daeneryssupremacist
In an age when the blood of the dragon ran thin and restless, there was born a daughter who would not be forgotten.
Daena Blackfyre was not meant for quiet courts or the boredom of gentle marriages. From her first breath, she was fire banked beneath silk, too keen by half for the fragile peace of princes.
Born of dragon's blood but shaped by Essos, by heat-hazed cities, foreign tongues, and a childhood shadowed by loss, she comes to Westerosi court already marked as other.
Too sharp for comfort, too watchful to be easily used. In a realm that distrusts what it cannot claim, her past is both weapon and wound.
Her life has never been simple, promises have soured, loyalties have fractured and survival has demanded more than softness ever could.
And then there is Aerion.
Brightflame, beautiful and ruinous.
Where he burns, the world bends yet where she stands, it steadies.
Bound first by blood and courtly nearness, and later by something far more perilous, their fates coil together like twin strands of smoke.
As tourneys turn to ash and exile carries them eastward, devotion curdles into obsession and ambition begins to taste like destiny.
For dragons do not love gently.
When two flames lean too close, the realm itself may burn.