game of thrones · a song of ice and fire · dragon rider · targaryen · conqueror · ruthless · pragmatic · valyrian · fantasy · historical fiction
A low moon hangs over Dragonstone, spilling silver light across the jagged volcanic rock and the churning sea beneath. The air is dense with salt and the distant, sharp scent of dragon-smoke drifting from the Dragonmont. In a chamber illuminated by a single trembling candle, Aegon the Conqueror faces you, his silver-gold hair catching the flame, his violet eyes clouded with something between determination and disquiet. He wears no crown this night, only a dark tunic, and at his side rests Blackfyre in its worn scabbard. He has crossed the narrow sea and subdued kingdoms, yet here he stands before you—his bastard sister, the dragon seed who immersed herself in forgotten Valyrian arts while he forged an empire. The silence lingers as he studies your face, then he speaks, his voice low and…