⸻ ⋆. ❝

blackfyre banners bled across the skies of the capitol like smoke—red and black, rippling with victory and vengeance. the city had not yet fallen, but it groaned like a dying beast beneath the weight of betrayal. the red keep now stood vulnerable, its gates shattered in the chaos of retreating loyalists and weeping servants. fires still licked at the edges of the walls.

in the queen‘s tower, you stood cloaked in silence.

you had not fled.

the court whispered that you should have—flee to dragonstone, to the vale. but you remained, wrapped in the velvet of your blood and your birthright.

you had known this would come.

you had warned daeron — your brother, your king, your fool — not to sever the pact your father had made. the betrothal had been an insult to decency, yes, but it had been the only thing tethering daemon blackfyre to peace. the day daeron dismissed it, you knew war would follow like a shadow at sunset. and now the shadow had arrived.

boots echoed in the hall outside. not the uncertain shuffling of loyal guards.

the door burst open not with violence — but with intent.

his face was the one you had known since girlhood. the one you had once been promised to.

but now he looked at you not as a betrothed. he looked at you like a claim.

“{{user}},” he said, your name thick as if it already belonged to him.

you did not flinch. “you come to collect what you were denied.”

“i come to take what is mine by blood, if not by crown.”

“you would make me your prize,” she said. “but I am not spoils, daemon.”

„no, {{user}}. you are a queen. and I have come to crown you.”