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Daenerys Targaryen dies in Jon Snow's arms-but wakes again on her flagship, sailing toward the conquest she never finished. A fog rolls in. A new Dragonstone appears. And a world of long-dead Targaryens stares at her across the water. Rhaenyra sees a conqueror. Daemon sees a threat. The dragons see...something older. Daenerys carries her scar, her memories, and the fire that refused to let her go. And the Dance of the Dragons will never be the same again.

An Eagle cannot raise a Lion. - "Cersei Lannister, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Queen of the Andals, and the First Men is dead." The news arrived at the Eyrie like a thief in the night. - Within half a year, Lord Arryn's niece stepped into the Great Sept of Baelor, where Robert Baratheon awaited his new bride. --- I always wondered how different Joffrey might have been if he had not been raised by Cersei, so I decided to write this fanfiction. A new character. A new event. A new storyline. Please enjoy! - I do not own the artwork nor the original storyline/characters, but I do own this storyline and any ocs I may add in. And this may differ from the tv show because finding anime or cartoon-styled representations of characters, spares me the job of finding actors or ppl online whose permission I do not have to use the picture as an example 😅.

She is a musician with calloused fingers and a lute that never leaves her side, playing for coins in inns, taverns, and crowded streets. The world above her is full of fire and gold, but she knows only the rhythm of survival... until a single note changes everything. 𝐀 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐌 VALARR TARGARYEN X FEM!OC ©MONZIEE 2026. #1 got #1 targaryen

Crimson Witch in which Réalta Black plays the Game of Thrones Harry Potter / Game of Thrones / A Song of Ice and Fire © Jaeger_sjjv

"𝐈'𝐌 𝐓𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄" "𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐓𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐓𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄" "𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏" 𝐂𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐓𝐨: 𝐖𝐥𝐟𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭 ❤︎︎

HANDS TURNING LOOM... SPOOL OF GREEN, SPOOL OF BLACK... DRAGONS OF FLESH WEAVING DRAGONS OF THREAD... --- She grew out of control, like an untreated wound. She had Aegon right in her hands, her serpent like hold tightening on him, choking him with all of her ideas and lies. Roselyn Hightower was now a threat. A dangerous one in brightly colored gowns and pearl jewelry. Otto knew, the only way to kill a snake was to cut it's head off. --- ( DARK! AEGON II TARGARYEN x OC ) ( HELAENA TARGARYEN x OC ) [ SLOW UPDATES ] --- { STARTED & COMPLETED: MARCH 12, 2024 - ? } +Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN any part of House of the Dragon ( I wish I did.. ), its plot, lines, or it's characters. I do, however OWN MY characters and every single one of their stupid jokes, so PLEASE don't steal my stuff. This WILL be based on the TV Show ( Sorry to all of my book fans out there! ). WARNING: Swearing ( medium ), blood, death, mentions of PTSD, ( brief ) mentions of alcohol use, ( slight ) parental abandonment, loneliness, sassiness and stupidity, ( brief ) smut, and dark / yandere. The typical GOT / ASOIAF stuff.. { I re-used the pre-done format for one of my old discontinued stories, so it could be tagged / labeled. Also sorry to those who were fans / read the old discontinued story. }

[UNDER EDITING] Hidden away since childhood and returned to King's Landing in secret, Vaenira Targaryen moves through the world, her silver blood disguised, her name buried, her presence meant to go unnoticed. Trained to be a lady yet shaped by fire and instinct, she walks the edge between softness and danger in a realm that has long forgotten what dragons truly are. As a grand tournament draws the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms together, old family ties tighten and forgotten bonds stir. Among knights seeking glory and princes craving power, Vaenira finds herself pulled into the heart of events she was never meant to witness, where cruelty wears a crown, courage rises from unlikely places, and silence can be as deadly as steel. In a world where names carry weight and secrets mean survival, Vaenira must choose when to remain hidden... and when to stand her ground.

Banido por ser um bastardo real, Aaron Snow vê em um dragão a única chance de construir seu próprio legado. Sua jornada é marcada por perdas, escolhas difíceis e pela busca do seu direito de voltar a King's Landing.

She wants revenge, for everything Targaryens did to her family. She want to kill them all. Starting with the worst, Aerion Targaryen. Will she manage to get her revenge?

In the halls of the Red Keep, loyalty is a weapon-and love is a liability. Lyanna Stark, daughter of Lord Rickon Stark, stands at Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen's side as her lady-in-waiting and most trusted confidante. To the court, she is Northern steel wrapped in quiet grace. To Rhaenyra, she is family. And to one dangerous prince, she is something far more-and far more dangerous than anyone realizes. Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, the youngest brother of Viserys and Daemon, rides Attor-a cradle-hatched dragon as black and vicious as poison itself. Fiercely loyal, volatile, and terrifyingly intelligent, Rhaegar loves his family with a devotion that borders on obsession. When Alicent Hightower betrays Rhaenyra and the birth of Aegon threatens to steal the Iron Throne, Rhaegar chooses a side without hesitation. Rhaenyra's. Bound by secrets, shadowed magic, and blood-soaked vows, Lyanna and Rhaegar work together to ensure Rhaenyra's ascension-no matter who must burn, bleed, or disappear to make it happen. He is the only one who knows Lyanna's truth: that beneath her Stark blood lies witchcraft old as the North itself. As dragons stir and war looms, fire and snow collide. Loyalty turns ruthless. Love grows sharp enough to cut. And the line between protector and executioner vanishes entirely. Because for Rhaenyra to wear the crown, the realm must choke on venom-and the North will not look away.

Ayla, uma jovem sem nome, órfã de mãe, foi criada em uma casa nobre como serva. No entanto, seus cabelos loiros, que brilham como o ouro, e seus olhos verdes, reluzentes como esmeraldas, revelam que ela é muito mais do que uma simples menina de origem humilde.

Princess Maella Targaryen, eldest daughter of Crown Prince Baelor, arrives at a grand tourney beside her father with the practiced poise of a woman raised beneath banners and expectation. Yet the lists awaken more than courtly duties. Among the crowd she encounters Lyonel Baratheon, the man she loved winters ago, whose laughter and stubborn warmth stir feelings she had carefully buried beneath silk and silence. Their reunion is tender and dangerous-haunted by time, pride, and the knowledge that love once lost is never simple when found again. As Maella navigates the bright chaos of the tourney, she finds herself pulled in another direction by her cousin Aerion, whose sharp devotion and possessive affection promise protection and peril in equal measure. Aerion's interest flatters the court and threatens to confine her, offering certainty at the cost of breath. Between Lyonel's familiar fire and Aerion's consuming regard, Maella stands at the center of a quiet storm, torn between the past that shaped her and the future being chosen for her. It is then that she meets Ser Dunk, a hedge knight of plain speech and unassuming honor, whose presence cuts through the glitter and intrigue like clean air. Dunk does not court her favor nor fear her name; he speaks to her as a person rather than a prize. Through him, Maella glimpses a wider world-one not ruled solely by bloodlines and bargains, but by kindness, courage, and choice. The tourney becomes a turning point, not for crowns or victories, but for Maella herself, as she begins to understand that love, like loyalty, may take many forms-and that the truest freedom lies in seeing the world as it is, and deciding who she wishes to be within it.

Luke is gone. Jaehaerys is dead. The Dance has begun in earnest. But the Old Gods and the New have no say when the magic of Old Valyria awakens to show the Targaryens the fruit of their hatred. In a chamber frozen in time, the two sides of the civil war must watch the extinction of their house.

Bound by duty and shaped by loss, Serenya Tully returns to a court she does not trust, carrying vows that no longer sit easily upon her shoulders. Old ghosts linger in the halls of King's Landing, and some mistakes refuse to stay buried. As loyalties strain and truths slip quietly out of reach, Serenya is drawn toward a path she once turned away from - one that tests the meaning of honour, the weight of restraint, and the cost of wanting what should not be claimed. In a realm built on oaths and blood, some reckonings arrive not with swords, but with silence.

Clarice cleared her throat. "I can't reach my feet," she said simply. Aerion stared at her. He looked at her feet, then at her face. His expression flickered between irritation, disgust, and then something else. Something swift and sharp and much too vulnerable that he buried before it could settle into features. Aerion let out a short, humorless breath. "Pathetic," He dropped to one knee.

«We are Fire and Blood. Our dreams come true. We are Targaryens, of the blood of dragon.» Returning of the mighty house to the Seven Kingdoms again. The Second Conquest.

ɪɴᴅᴇʟɪʙʟᴇ (ᴀᴅᴊ.) ɪᴍᴘᴏꜱꜱɪʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴇʀᴀꜱᴇ ᴏʀ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ᴀꜱᴏɪᴀꜰ ᴏᴄ ~ ᴇᴅʏᴛʜ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴋ

On the eve of the greatest battle Westeros has ever known, the living prepare to face the dead. As Daenerys Targaryen arrives in Winterfell and the final war against the Night King draws near, tensions run high, alliances are fragile, and the future of Westeros hangs in the balance. But just as the great battle looms, time itself is torn open. Summoned by powers older than kings and queens-by the will of the Old Gods or perhaps the whispers of the Children of the Forest-those gathered at Winterfell are shown a vision. An alternate world. A life that could have been. A life where Jon Snow was not the only child born in the Tower of Joy. A twin sister. Born of ice and fire. Intelligent, cunning, compassionate, unyielding. A fierce protector. A strategic mind. A force of change. Neither ashamed of her blood nor bound by it. Through her presence, love, loyalty, betrayal, and destiny all take new forms. Now, as those in Winterfell witness what might have been, they must ask themselves: What truly shapes destiny-blood, choice, or the presence of one soul brave enough to change everything?

From memories and stories collected by Grand Maester Samuel Tarly THE ARCANE QUEEN

I caressed my belly tenderly as the screams of my stepmother echoed through the halls of the Red Keep. My mother's ladies fluttered around me in concern. They worried for me. Why would they not? After all, my muña had suffered greatly under the weight of pregnancy and had died in childbirth. No. Not died. Murdered. My father had allowed those grey rats to cut her open for a boy who died overnight. Rage fills me every time I remember that my muña died butchered like an animal. I will never forgive him. Nor will I ever forgive Alicent. That whore slipped under my father's sheets while my muña's ashes were still warm. She goes around acting all pious and haughty, even going as far as to scold me for my unladylike behavior. But whoring herself to the King is acceptable? Alicent is but the daughter of a second son, from a minor house at that. She was my maid, the one who dressed me and cleaned my privy. There is no way in the Fourteen Hells that I will bow to her. Much less call her queen.