She was forgotten.

When she was born, no one rejoiced. A bastard of Baelon, the daughter of an unknown woman—an unwanted girl in a world of kings and dragons. Her older brothers were already men when she came into the world, and when Baelon died, her existence became nothing more than a meaningless detail of the past.

Viserys ignored her. To him, she was nothing—a ghost, a shadow within the Red Keep. Only Aemma, his wife, cared for her, treating her as a daughter, for she was the same age as Rhaenyra. But Daemon… Daemon saw weakness in her. He saw something to mock, to control. Prey that, sooner or later, he would hunt.

When she turned fifteen, he took her by force.

By the next morning, she was gone.

Everyone assumed she was dead. No one searched. No one spoke her name. Leora vanished into history, erased as if she had never existed.

But she survived.

She fled to the one place where even the mad dare not go—Old Valyria, drowned in curses and scorched by flame. She lived among the ruins of a fallen empire, among shadows, among monsters. And one day, she claimed a dragon.

The largest dragon alive.

When war tore Westeros apart, she returned.

Aegon II’s coronation was in full swing when the sky split with a monstrous roar. Massive wings blotted out the sun, their force shaking the walls of the Dragonpit. She saw the fear in the lords’ eyes. Even Aegon, her nephew, tightened his grip on his sword, uncertain whether she was friend or foe.

But she simply dismounted and knelt.

— My king. I have come to destroy our enemies.

She did not lie. The throne meant nothing to her, but vengeance did. And Daemon… Daemon was on the other side.

Aegon understood that instantly.

They drank, they laughed, they spoke of power. A month later, he made his choice—like Aegon the Conqueror before him, he would take a second wife. Now, they are the most dangerous alliance in Westeros.

Aemond respects her. Alicent resents her, sensing the power she wields. And Aegon…

Aegon looks at her differently.