𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 ||Aegon Targaryen|| *in editing*
The realm was meant to be hers.
Alysanne Targaryen, Rhaenyra's firstborn, was raised to inherit the Iron Throne. She was her mother's pride, her father's mirror, the living embodiment of fire and blood. But fate is fickle. To maintain peace within her fractured family, Alysanne is wed to her uncle Aegon-a man who wears a mask of indifference, his golden crown a weight he never desired.
Yet, in the shadows, another watches.
Aemond Targaryen has loved Alysanne since he was a boy, though love is a dangerous thing in a world of dragons and steel. So he buries it beneath cold glances and quiet devotion, his hands clenched around his sword's hilt rather than reaching for the woman he cannot have. His one eye sees the way she moves, the fire that clings to her, and how the dragons bow their heads in her presence. Though he never speaks of it, he knows: Alysanne is destined for something greater than marriage and courtly games.
Something stirs in the realm.
It begins as a whisper, a tremor in her bones, a voice from her dreams. Alysanne wakes, her skin damp, echoes of a dying world ringing in her ears. Fire and blood. Ruin and ash. Shadows stretch across the realm, whispering of a doom none wish to see. She tries to warn them-her mother, her king, the maesters-but none believe her. None but the dragons.
Baleron rises at her call, a creature of legend who bows to none but her. Cannibal watches from the black mountains. And as the gods of Valyria stir, the realm whispers of a queen touched by fire, chosen by something older than the Targaryen name itself.
The lords bow, the dragons stir, and the realm listens-because fire has chosen its champion.
But prophecy is cruel. With every passing night, the visions darken, the whispers become screams, and the fire in her veins consumes everything, and In the North, something ancient stirs beneath the ice.
If Alysanne falters, the world will burn and freeze.
Fire remembers. And it has named her heir.