Presumed dead. Enslaved for years. Returned to a realm that had already moved on.
Elaena Targaryen was meant to be the heir to the Iron Throne until fate stole her crown, her childhood, and her place in history. Now returned from the shadows, she walks a fragile line between duty and desire, power and pain, past and present.
At her side, unwilling yet unyielding, stands Daemon Targaryen. A warrior, prince, and the man who plays the game of thrones for her.
But the realm is splintering. The Dance of the Dragons looms. And between court whispers and wildfire hearts, Elaena must decide what kind of woman she will be and who, if anyone, she can truly trust.
A story of grief, resilience, forbidden love, and the war that would tear House Targaryen apart.
Disclaimer:
I do not own Game of Thrones, A Song of Ice and Fire or House of the Dragon; all credit goes to George R.R Martin. I only own Elaena Targaryen and my other Original Characters.
Warning:
It's a House of the Dragon fanfiction which means that there will be adult language and content.
In that moment, he was willing, more than willing, to submit to her in every possible way. He was her humbled devotee willing to do anything to please her, to satisfy her.
He would crawl to her, kneel before her, follow her word as if they were gospel. He would not just worship, he would serve at her every beck and call, devoted to her as the Septons to the Seven.