AELORA

Prologue

Aelora Targaryen, a ghost from the Valyrian past, cruised through the ruined remains of her once glorious home. The shattered legacy of House Targaryen lay before her eyes, and her ethereal form shimmered with the beauty of Valyrian traits—silver hair and lilac eyes that held the wisdom of ages.

Back in the day, Aelora was a carefree and bold woman, always speaking her mind. She turned heads in Valyria, but despite the admiration, she never tied the knot with anyone. She was a free spirit, gliding through life with a kind and pure heart.

Now, as a ghost, Aelora's spirit echoed through the ruins. Valyria had transformed into something beyond imagination, a place filled with pain and suffering. Aelora's lilting voice added a touch of nostalgia and sorrow to the desolation.

In the spectral realm, she continued to embody the charm that once captivated Valyrian lords. Her presence lingered, a testament to a woman who embraced life even in the face of impending doom. Aelora's watchful spirit turned Valyria into a haunting tapestry of memories and emotions, a legacy that only a dragon lady like her could leave behind.

In Valyria, no one gave a damn about whether you had a cock or a cunt – equality reigned supreme. Aelora Targaryen embodied this spirit, becoming one of the most formidable mages of her time. Valyrian texts sang her praises, attributing glory to House Targaryen thanks to her prowess.

Even after her passing, Aelora's spirit lingered, keeping a vigilant eye on her descendants. However, when the Doom unfolded, she was taken aback. Her family endured, but the dragons dwindled, and the Hightowers threatened the Targaryen rule in Oldtown. Aelora loathed the turn of events, her ghostly presence seething with discontent.

From the spectral realm, she cursed the unfolding injustices, despising figures like Jaehaerys for his misogyny, Viserys for his gullibility, and Aegon for his usurpation. Her resentment extended to almost everyone.

In Aelora's eyes, Aegon's kingship was solely justified by his possession of a certain appendage. She burned with a desire to scorch the unjust world that robbed Rhaenys of her rightful place as Queen, preventing the Dance of Dragons from ever happening.

Aelora watched as Cregan crowned Aegon III, but there was no glory in the young man's eyes – only fear and shattered resolve. The weight of obligation threatened to tear him apart, especially after witnessing his mother's gruesome demise.

Aegon the Conqueror, also observing from the spectral realm, approached Aelora. Even the legendary conqueror was disappointed with his descendants, regretting the state of affairs that had unfolded.

"Our descendants really know how to mess things up," Aelora muttered, and Aegon somberly nodded. He mourned the fact that he hadn't championed gender equality during his reign.

"I still remember when you slapped Jaehaerys across the face the first time you met him," Aegon reminisced. As spirits, they could traverse freely, even venturing to the other side—what they called heaven. It was a realm of peace where Targaryens found solace after death, surrounded by loved ones. However, Aelora knew there was no mercy for the wicked; they went straight to hell.

"He deserved it. He should have put Rhaenys on the throne – the right thing to do. Now, look at this mess. The North will face threats, Aegon. Your descendants sure know how to mess things up. Good luck with that," Aelora sighed, her frustration evident. She was done with these people and their follies.

"They're your descendants too," Aegon reminded her.

"Lucky me," Aelora retorted.

Aegon sighed, realizing that Aelora, born in Valyria, was the first Targaryen he had met from that era. Most Valyrians were condemned to hell for their practices. Beautiful and powerful, Valyrians often lacked good hearts or morals, engaging in gruesome experiments and sacrifices.