She was not Targaryen. She was not Valeryion. She was not of royal blood. She did not possess the hair of silken white nor the eyes of soft violet. She did not have the blood of the dragon within her veins. But she was his starlight. The one thing in this wretched world that he could without a doubt claim as his own for it was he who first found her amongst the wings of dragons and it was he who took her in. It was he who she first saw upon opening her eyes and it was him whose smile she blessed. No Astraea was none of those things. She may not be important to those who beheld her; those who whisper of her heritage and rumors of her arrival. She may not be the daughter of the king but there was one man who'd burn the world for her and kill for her honor. No...Astraea was not a dragon. But she thought herself truly blessed to have Daemon 'The Rogue Prince' Targeryon at her back. For she was his starlight-his saving grace. And he the as beautiful and special as the fireflies she loved to watch glittering in the darkness like the man himself. **Characters are aged down from their actors to be closer to the books. Instead of the show.**
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