83 A.C Alyssa Targaryen gives birth to her third child, Aegon Targaryen, a sick and weak child who would stay in his bed for years.
98 A.C Prince Baelon Targaryen sends his son Aegon, to the free city of Caelian under the protection of the Caeruleus family.
The House of Caeryleus was a Caelian banking family, that originated in the Valyrian Freehold and prospered gradually until it was able to fund the Caeryleus bank. This bank was one of the largest in the known world and facilitated the Caeryleus rise to political power in Caelian, although they officially remained citizens rather than monarchs until 90 A.C.
The Caeryleus' wealth and influence were initially derived from the textile trade guided by the wool guild of Caelian. Like other families ruling in Caelia, the Caeryleus dominated their city's government, were able to bring Caelia under their family's power, and created an environment in which art and humanism flourished.
99 A.C Aegon Targaryen and the heir of house Caeryleus, Aurelia, grew close thanks to their common interests and fantasies about traveling the known and unknown world
100 A.C Aegon Targaryen heals from his sickness and returns to his family in King's landing after promising Aurelia of house Caeryleus to marry her.
101 A.C Prince Baelon Targaryen dies of a burst belly.
102 A.C Prince Aegon Targaryen claims the Cannibal and flies back to Caelia to propose to Aurelia Caeryleus.
103 A.C Aegon Targaryen and Aurelia Caeryleus get married in Caelia and leave the city together to travel the mysteries of the world.
109 A.C Aurelia Caeryleus gives birth to Aelora Targaryen.
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"NOOO!" Aelora's high-pitched cry erupted from the depths of her throat, echoing through the corridor as her uncle's hands closed around her in playful capture. "N-No, please, ahaha, I w-won't p-paint hahaha on your cl-clothes ever ag-again, haha, p-please," she pleaded, her voice a delicate melody of laughter and genuine distress. Her entire body convulsed with giggles, betraying her futile attempt to maintain composure under her uncle's relentless tickling.
Her uncle, Aurelio, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, regarded her with a playful smile as he released his grip, well aware of her vulnerability to tickling. "Heh, gotcha, didn't I?" he chuckled, the warmth of familial affection evident in his tone.
Quick as a sprite, Aelora darted away, her small legs carrying her as fast as they could manage. Her heart pounded within her chest like the rhythmic beat of a drum, the lingering effects of their tickling interplay. Seeking refuge, she halted behind one of the many pillars that adorned the corridor, her petite frame partially concealed as she peeked back at her uncle.
Amusement danced in Aurelio's eyes as he shook his head, the echoes of his laughter still lingering on the long walls. Meanwhile, Aelora, a portrait of innocent mischief, maintained her hiding stance, the pillar casting a gentle shadow upon her contemplative expression.
A stern voice cut through the mirth, breaking the spell. "How many times have I told you not to color on my robes?" Aurelio chided, his tone a blend of mock severity and genuine exasperation. He loved his niece as if she were his own daughter, yet every day he was reminded of how much of a little rascal she was—reminiscent of himself and his sister during their childhood mischief around the palace.
Caught in her little styling escapade, Aelora stared at the stone pavement beneath her. The intricate patterns etched into the cold surface became the canvas for her introspection. The gravity of her actions settled in, mingling with the dust particles dancing in the air. "I just wanted to add a bit of flair to your wardrobe, Uncle," she mumbled, her voice a soft admission as she cautiously peeked out from behind the pillar, her eyes reflecting a mixture of innocence and defiance.
Aurelio raised an eyebrow in mock incredulity. "Flair? Pink is not exactly my idea of flair."
"But it brings out the azure in your eyes, I swear!" Aelora protested, her eyes widening with sincerity as she pleaded her case, the innocence of childhood radiating from her.
Aurelio sighed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "We'll discuss your artistic endeavors later. Now, come out from there. You're not getting away with this by just apologizing." His tone shifted from mock sternness to a more practical directive.
Aelora grinned mischievously and, with a skip in her step, emerged from her hiding spot. Despite the scolding, her impish act had brought a touch of color to her uncle's otherwise routine day. Just as she was about to formulate a response, the door swung open, announcing the arrival of the maid in a flurry of flustered haste.
"Master Aurelio, I'm sorry to interrupt, but the Lord urgently needs to speak with you," the maid announced, her gaze casting a disapproving glance at the pink-stained robes that bore witness to Aelora's artistic flair.
Aurelio acknowledged the interruption with a nod. "Very well, I'll be there shortly. Aelora, we'll continue this later. And no more painting my clothes, understood?" he said, heading toward his father's quarters. Before leaving, he turned to Aelora, his expression softening. "Go to your lessons, and be a good girl. Don't cause trouble for your teacher," he advised with a gentle smile, his words carrying both warmth and a subtle reminder of her responsibilities.
Aelora watched her uncle hurry off, her curiosity piqued but knowing better than to follow. She lingered momentarily, contemplating the mess she had made, before dutifully setting off to find the cleaning supplies, wondering what unexpected matter had summoned Aurelio so urgently.
As soon as Aurelio entered his father's room, he hurried to his side. The dimly lit space was shrouded in an air of palpable sadness. Flickering candlelight played on the walls, casting dancing shadows that mirrored the tumultuous emotions swirling within the room. In his father's trembling hands, a letter crinkled with every fold, and the lines etched on his face revealed the weight of the devastating message he held.
"Father," Aurelio approached, his voice laced with concern. "What has happened? You seem troubled."
The creaking of the wooden floor beneath Aurelio's footsteps seemed to echo the heaviness in his heart. The room, once filled with warmth, now felt cold and somber. His father's tear-filled eyes met his, conveying a pain too profound for words.
With a heavy heart, Aurelio's father spoke softly, his voice a fragile whisper in the solemn air. "Aurelio, it's your sister... she and her husband... they were lost in a boating accident during a storm."
The words hung in the air like a heavy fog, settling over the room and leaving an indelible mark on their beings. Time seemed to freeze, the room becoming a vacuum of sound as if the world outside had ceased to exist. Aurelio's breath caught in his chest, his gaze fixed on his father as the reality of the tragedy unfolded. The silence that followed was pregnant with grief, the profound loss etched across Aurelio's face.
Memories of shared laughter and family gatherings felt distant, replaced by a void that seemed insurmountable. The flickering candlelight, once a source of comfort, now cast long shadows that mirrored their depths of sorrow. Aurelio grappled with the news, the weight of emptiness settling around him, leaving him momentarily speechless, lost in the sea of emotions that threatened to engulf him.
His father reached out, placing a hand on Aurelio's shoulder in a feeble attempt to offer solace. The shared pain between father and son bridged the gap of generational sorrow. Aurelio's eyes welled with unshed tears, reflecting the depth of his heartache.
In that silent exchange, Aurelio grappled with the profound truth that his sister, once a vibrant presence in his life, and her husband, whom he considered a brother, were now forever lost to the relentless currents of the sea. The room, illuminated by the flickering light of candles, bore witness to the shadows of grief that enveloped them both. As the weight of the tragedy pressed on, Aurelio sought comfort in the shared grief, knowing that the love and support they offered each other would be crucial in guiding Aelora through the storm of emotions that awaited her.
The night draped the estate in a velvet cloak as Aurelio stood outside Aelora's bedroom, his heart heavy with the weight of the news he was about to share. He knocked softly on the door, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. Aelora opened the door, her eyes still holding the remnants of a day filled with innocent laughter and play.
"Uncle?" Aelora's voice held a mixture of curiosity and warmth.
Aurelio crouched down to her eye level, a somber expression etched on his face. "Aelora, there's something important we need to talk about." He gestured for her to sit on the edge of her bed, and with a gentle hand on her shoulder, he joined her.
"Sweetheart, your parents..." Aurelio's voice faltered momentarily as he searched for the right words. "Your parents were involved in a boating accident, and I'm so sorry to tell you this, but they didn't make it. They're not with us anymore."
Aelora's eyes widened, disbelief casting a shadow over her features. "N-no, that can't be true," she stammered, her voice barely audible.
Aurelio nodded solemnly. "I wish it weren't true, Aelora, but we have to face it together. Your parents loved you very much, and they will always be a part of you in your heart."
Tears welled up in Aelora's eyes, and Aurelio enveloped her in a comforting embrace. The room seemed to close in on them, the walls bearing witness to the profound weight of the news. Aurelio whispered soothing words, the air thick with shared grief and the beginning of a new reality for the young girl.
"You're not alone in this, Aelora. Your grandfather and I are here for you. We'll take care of you, just like your parents would have wanted."
Aelora clung to Aurelio, the reality of the loss sinking in. The night stretched on, a canvas of hushed sobs and comforting whispers. Aurelio, in that quiet moment, made a silent vow to be a steadfast pillar of strength for Aelora as she navigated the difficult journey ahead. The room, illuminated by a softly flickering lamp, bore witness to the intimate scene of shared sorrow and newfound responsibilities. In the stillness of the night, as the echoes of Aelora's sobs mingled with Aurelio's consoling words, a bond of love and support was forged in the crucible of grief.
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The sky, a tapestry of somber grays, loomed over the castle grounds as the gathered mourners stood in silent tribute. The usually vibrant courtyard of the castle was now a place of heavy hearts and muted tones. A gentle breeze carried the scent of mournful flowers, mingling with the muted whispers of condolences. Aurelio, in his dark mourning attire, stood resolute at the front, his eyes reflecting the weight of the day's sorrow. Beside him, Vaeleryo, his father, looked weary, and Aelora, his tearful niece, clutched a wilted bouquet of white lilies.
The High Priest's solemn prayers filled the air, each word heavy with reverence. The crowd, dressed in muted hues, bowed their heads in a collective gesture of mourning. The castle, once a haven of joy and laughter, now seemed to resonate with the echoes of grief. The distant tolling of a bell marked the final farewell to Aelora's parents, each chime a reminder of their absence.
Aelora's gaze was fixed on the caskets before her, their ornate carvings now a stark contrast to the grief-stricken faces surrounding them. Her usually bright eyes were clouded with tears, and her grip on the bouquet was tight, as if holding onto the last remnants of a world that had irrevocably changed. The once-familiar stones of the courtyard felt alien beneath her feet, as though they might give way under the weight of her despair.
As the High Priest's words drifted through the air, Aelora's mind churned with a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. The enormity of her loss was a crushing wave—her parents, the architects of her happiness, now lay silent. The laughter that had once echoed through these halls was now replaced by an overwhelming void. The weight of the white lilies in her hand symbolized not only the fragility of life but also the immense burden of sorrow she now bore.
The sight of Rhaenyra Targaryen, approaching with a graceful but somber demeanor, offered a flicker of solace. Her eyes, reflecting a deep understanding, met Aelora's with a mixture of empathy and strength. "Aelora," she said softly, her voice carrying both authority and compassion, "I'm so sorry for your loss. I know how painful it is to lose a parent."
Aelora looked up, her eyes red and swollen, and nodded slowly. "Thank you, Lady Rhaenyra," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's all so overwhelming."
Rhaenyra placed a comforting hand on Aelora's shoulder, her touch gentle yet reassuring. "I lost my mother when I was young too. It's a pain that never truly fades. If you need someone to talk to, or even just to be there, I'm here for you."
Aelora felt a small measure of comfort from Rhaenyra's words. Despite the gravity of the situation, the sincerity of Rhaenyra's offer was a beacon in her darkness.
Nearby, King Viserys Targaryen, his face etched with the weight of leadership and personal grief, approached Aurelio and Vaeleryo. His voice was steady but filled with an undercurrent of sadness. "I've been reflecting on Aelora's future," he began. "Given the circumstances, I believe it would be best if she came to King's Landing. I want to ensure she is well cared for."
Vaeleryo, his face marked by the trials of time, nodded slowly. "Your Grace, we appreciate your concern. However, Aelora is our kin. In such times, we wish to keep her close."
Aurelio, his voice filled with a mix of sorrow and resolve, added, "Your Grace, we understand your intentions, but Aelora has already faced so much upheaval. We believe she would be better off staying here with us."
Viserys sighed, his eyes reflecting the burden of his decision. "I understand your feelings. Aelora will be well cared for in King's Landing, and when she comes of age, she will have the option to return to you if she chooses."
The courtyard seemed to hold its breath as the weight of the decision settled. Vaeleryo and Aurelio exchanged a glance, a silent conversation that spoke of the complex interplay between familial bonds and the demands of the crown.
As the conversation continued, Alicent Hightower, the Green Queen, approached with her usual poise. Her voice, though polite, carried an undercurrent of tension. "Princess Rhaenyra, Lady Aelora," she said, her eyes lingering on Rhaenyra with a hint of challenge. "I extend my deepest condolences for your loss. Such events remind us of the impermanence of life."
Rhaenyra met Alicent's gaze with a calm, composed expression. "Thank you, Queen Alicent. Indeed, loss teaches us much about life and its fragile nature."
Alicent's smile tightened, a subtle edge to her words. "It's unfortunate that some lessons are harder to learn than others. The stability of the realm relies on understanding and cooperation."
Rhaenyra, adept at navigating courtly intrigue, replied smoothly, "Indeed, a stable realm requires cooperation. I trust that these lessons will be heeded wisely."
Aelora, feeling the undercurrent of tension between the two women, glanced between them, her discomfort palpable. She sought solace in Rhaenyra's presence, finding comfort in the empathy she offered amidst the strained interactions.
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In the quiet aftermath of the funeral, Helaena Targaryen, draped in dark green, approached Aelora at her mother Queen Alicent's gentle command. Alicent had noticed that being openly antagonistic toward Aelora might hurt her own reputation. Thus, she saw it best for her daughter to forge a connection with the young lady who was of similar age.
"Lady Aelora," Helaena said softly, her voice a gentle murmur amidst the echoes of mourning. "I am deeply sorry for your loss. My mother and I share in your grief."
As Helaena offered her condolences, Queen Alicent, with a subtle yet firm presence, suggested, "Why don't you two young ladies take a stroll in the garden? It might offer some peace from the weight of today."
Aelora and Helaena exchanged a glance, and following the queen's suggestion, they made their way to the palace garden—a haven of lush blooms and winding paths.
The garden was a sanctuary of beauty, its air thick with the fragrance of blooming flowers and the soft rustle of leaves. The vibrant colors of the blossoms, the gentle dance of petals in the breeze, and the dappled sunlight filtering through the ancient trees created a serene escape from the day's sorrow.
Finding a secluded bench beneath a canopy of fragrant roses, Aelora and Helaena settled down. The garden's elegance seemed to echo the depth of their shared heritage, the blossoms a testament to enduring life amid loss.
In this tranquil setting, Helaena broke the silence with a gentle offer. "Lady Aelora, I know these are difficult times for you. If you ever need someone to talk to or just want a bit of company, I'm here."
Aelora, moved by Helaena's sincerity, managed a small but heartfelt smile. The formalities between them began to dissolve, revealing two young women bound by their Targaryen legacy and mutual grief.
"Thank you, Helaena," Aelora replied softly. "It's hard to believe how quickly everything has changed. The garden is lovely, though—it reminds me that even in sadness, there's still beauty."
Helaena nodded, her gaze drifting over the blooming landscape. "I find solace here, among the flowers," she admitted, her voice tinged with a mix of sadness and longing. "I've always loved gardens, especially the little creatures that live in them. Do you know, I find such joy in watching the bugs and insects? There's something so fascinating about how they go about their lives, so tiny and yet so important."
Aelora's curiosity was piqued. "Really? What do you find so special about them?"
Helaena's eyes brightened with enthusiasm. "Oh, there's so much! The way a butterfly flits from flower to flower, or how ants work together to build their colonies. Even the simple ladybug—I always feel a bit of wonder when I see one. It's like each little creature has its own story, and observing them brings me a sense of peace."
Aelora smiled, charmed by Helaena's passion. "I've never really paid much attention to insects before, but you make them sound quite enchanting."
Helaena laughed softly. "It's a bit of an odd fascination, I suppose. But in moments like these, when everything feels heavy, finding beauty in the small, often overlooked things helps me feel connected to the world in a different way."
As their conversation continued, the walls of formality fell away. They shared personal stories, memories, and dreams that went beyond the usual expectations of their roles. Aelora spoke of her parents' love for vibrant colors and their travels. Helaena, in turn, shared her own experiences growing up as a Targaryen and the complexities of bearing that name.
As the sun sank below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the garden, the budding friendship between Aelora and Helaena began to bloom, mirroring the flowers around them. In the stillness of the palace garden, where nature's beauty reflected the intricate dance of their lives, a new bond was forged.
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As night settled over the castle, its stone walls embraced the evening's quiet. Aelora, weighed down by grief and the day's events, prepared for bed. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, the ornate canopy of her bed looming like a silent guardian.
Just as she was about to find solace in sleep, a gentle knock echoed through the chamber. She turned to the door, which creaked open to reveal her uncle, Aurelio. His familiar presence carried a gravity that spoke of the solemnity of the hour.
"Uncle," Aelora greeted softly, her eyes reflecting the fatigue she felt.
Aurelio entered with a steady pace, his expression a mix of concern and familial warmth. "May I come in, Aelora?"
She nodded, and he closed the door behind him, creating a quiet intimacy in the room. The candlelight continued to dance, painting the walls with a mosaic of light and shadows that underscored the gravity of their conversation.
Aurelio took a seat beside her on the edge of the bed, his voice carrying both the weight of responsibility and the comfort of family. "I wanted to check on you. Today has been incredibly hard for all of us."
Aelora, sitting on the edge of her bed, met his gaze with a mixture of weariness and gratitude. "It has, Uncle. Losing Mother and Father... it feels like the world has changed so suddenly."
Aurelio placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It has changed, but in times of change, we find strength in each other. You're not alone in this."
An unspoken understanding hung between them, acknowledging the challenges ahead. Aelora's eyes, brimming with tears, conveyed her mix of vulnerability and thanks.
Aurelio reached into his attire and withdrew a small, ornate chest. "There's something your parents wanted you to have—a legacy from the old world."
He set the chest on her bedside table. With careful hands, he unclasped it, revealing a dragon egg adorned in resplendent golden hues, a relic that seemed to transcend time.
"This," Aurelio said, awe in his voice, "is a gift from your parents. They acquired it from Old Valyria, a treasure meant for you."
Aelora's eyes widened in wonder as she gazed upon the egg, its surface shimmering with intricate patterns that captured the essence of ancient Valyria.
"It's beautiful," Aelora whispered, her voice filled with reverence.
Aurelio nodded, his eyes reflecting deep emotion. "It's rare and special, Aelora, just like you."
He gently placed the egg in her hands. "This egg is meant for you to hatch—a symbol of hope, strength, and the enduring spirit of your parents."
Aelora cradled the egg, feeling a surge of responsibility and reverence. "I will cherish it, Uncle. I promise to do everything I can to bring forth what lies within."
Aurelio smiled with pride and unwavering faith. "I have no doubt you will. You carry the blood of old Valyria within you. Let this egg be a testament to the strength waiting for your touch."
As Aurelio prepared to leave, a somber expression crossed his features. "There's one more thing we need to discuss. The king, your uncle, has decided that you will need to go to Westeros. It's a decree we must follow."
Aelora's eyes widened in surprise and apprehension. The golden hues of the dragon egg seemed to fade in comparison to the unexpected news. "Go to Westeros? But I... I want to stay here with you, Uncle. This is my home."
Aurelio sighed, a heavy weight settling upon him. "I know, Aelora. We would all prefer if you could stay here. But the king's decision is final. We must respect it, even though it pains us to do so."
Tears welled in Aelora's eyes as the reality of the separation sank in. "But what about me? What about what I want?"
Aurelio's gaze softened, and he drew her into a comforting embrace. "We have no choice, Aelora. The future of our house, the legacy your parents entrusted to you, is intertwined with a larger destiny in Westeros. It's a responsibility that goes beyond personal desires."
The room felt constrictive as the weight of her uncle's words pressed upon her. The dragon egg, once a symbol of hope, now seemed to silently witness the impending separation. Her gaze lingered on the golden egg, searching for solace in its timeless beauty.
Aelora clung to the egg, feeling the weight of her departure. "I don't want to leave, Uncle. This is my home, and you're my family. Westeros is so far away, and... I don't know anyone there."
Aurelio held her close, his voice steady. "We understand, Aelora. This is not a decision made lightly. But your uncle, the king, believes it's essential for the future of House Targaryen. We must honor that decision, even if it means parting with someone we love dearly."
Aelora's mind raced with conflicting emotions. The familiar surroundings of her childhood home seemed to slip away, replaced by the unknown expanse of Westeros. "What if I don't want to go, Uncle? What if I want to stay here?"
Aurelio gently cupped her face, his eyes reflecting both compassion and the harsh reality of their situation. "Aelora, sometimes we must do things not because we want to, but because duty demands it. Westeros holds the next chapter of our house's legacy, and you, as the heir, play a vital role in that story."
"We'll support you, Aelora," Aurelio reassured her, his voice a steady anchor. "You may be physically distant, but the ties that bind us are unbreakable. House Targaryen endures, and you are its beacon."
As the night wore on, Aelora and her uncle remained locked in an embrace, finding solace in their shared understanding of duty and sacrifice. The dragon egg, nestled in Aelora's arms, seemed to absorb the essence of their familial bond.
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united chapters 2 3 4, content is still the same just reworked a little bit