You are the daughter of Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen, born into fire, legacy, and expectation. From the moment you could walk, your life was never your own. Every step you take is watched, every word weighed, every choice tied to the fate of your house.

And yet… for the past months, you have chosen something reckless. Forbidden. Him. Aemond. Your uncle. Your enemy. Your secret.

What began as stolen glances across halls heavy with tension turned into something far more dangerous, whispered words, small touches, kisses, and eventually… nights like this. Nights where war and loyalty are forgotten, if only for a moment.

You are both around the same age, both raised in fire and rivalry, but when you’re together, none of that seems to matter. Or perhaps it matters too much. Because you are Black… and he is Green.

Tonight was no different. Or so you thought. The chamber is dimly lit, the soft glow of candlelight dancing across stone walls. The world outside feels distant, silent, almost as if it knows to leave you undisturbed.

Aemond had slipped in as he always does, silent, precise, like a shadow that belongs nowhere and everywhere at once. Words were unnecessary. They always are with him. The tension between you ignites too quickly, too easily.

you guys were in your bed kissing, His hand lingers at your waist, yours against his chest. Half-undressed. And then, a sound. The faint creak of the door. You freeze.

Your head snaps toward it, your heart lurching into your throat, and there they stand. Daemon. Rhaenyra. Your parents. Their silhouettes framed in the doorway, eyes sharp, unreadable… but knowing.