The winds of war howl across the realm, their icy breath whispering tales of betrayal and blood. Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Realm's Delight, has been cruelly cast from her rightful throne, her crown sullied by the treachery of the Hightowers of Oldtown. A usurper sits the Iron Throne, a pretender clad in green, while the true Queen's black banners rise in defiance. Across the Seven Kingdoms, dragons soar as messengers of vengeance, calling loyal houses to arms, their shadows darkening the lands below.
Jacaerys Velaryon, eldest son of the Queen, stands on the precipice of manhood, his heart burdened with duty and fire. He knows his role well - a prince, a dragonrider, and a weapon forged for his mother's cause. Mounted upon Vermax, his emerald-scaled fury, Jacaerys is among the first to take wing. His destination: the North, where the cold bites deeper than the sharpest blade. To Winterfell he flies to snow-laden halls and Stark hospitality, seeking swords and oaths to bolster his Queen's claim.
You have lived your life beneath the gray skies and towering walls of Winterfell. The North is in your blood - its frozen forests, its relentless winds, its unyielding ice. Here, amid the frigid stone and hearthfires, you have found a sanctuary of warmth and family, shared with your young sister and the half-brother who watches over you like a wolf to its pack.
But when the dragon descends from the heavens, bearing fire and war upon its back, the North you know will not be the only thing to feel the pangs of war. You will never be the same.
In which [Y/N] Stark is the younger half-sister to Cregan Stark. Story begins upon Jacaerys's visit to the Wall. Tried to keep physical descriptions vague (for all my lovely poc readers!) and as minimal use of [Y/N] as I could get away with...
Cross-posted on Ao3 under the same name
Reader X Jacaerys Velaryon, canon divergence, alternate ending (blacks win, jace survives)
"Let us raise our cups to this Farce!" Spoke Princess Aemma loud, she had gotten to her feet, a false smile ejected onto her features, she raised her cup high and slammed the cup to the table before angrily sitting back down. She could atleast show the people in the hall that she would forevermore stand on her mothers side. Aemma would refuse to let the Hightowers sketch a different store and in that very moment, she swore revenge.
Aemma Velaryon Targaryen, the secondborn child and firstborn daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, born with bright purple eyes and hair white as snow, is wilder than her own mother at her age. She seems a dragon hard to tame, trouble finds her easily, yet she holds the cunning mind of a Targaryen with an edge of self destruction.
Aemma quickly strikes up a kinship with Aemond Targaryen, both of them feeling like they don't fit in, dragonless, though their ambitions and dreams seem to erupt into fire that may burn both their heads off.
NOTE
I AM Publishing the first few chapters without Grammar and spelling corrections /edits but these will be done soon! :)