Part One

Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen.

You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

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All typical Game of Thrones/House of The Dragon warnings apply to this story, but I will put specific ones above each chapter.