The Sun That Should Not Rise
Aerion Targaryen x Sister!Wife!Reader
Mini Message: Yes I know there are no dragons during A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms timeline — this is an “what if dragons returned” AU because I will always love dragons.
Fire and Blood Masterlist
The egg felt warm before it ever felt alive.
Not the color — though it was beautiful, pale as melted gold with veins like trapped sunlight — and not the weight either, heavy enough that your arms trembled when you first lifted it from the ash where it had been forgotten.
You should have told someone immediately.
Instead, you closed your fingers around it and said nothing.
Every scrap of dragon lore hidden in cracked tomes and fading scrolls, every myth half-dismissed by maesters who claimed dragons were gone forever. You knew the rituals whispered by old Valyrian texts — placing eggs near flame, feeding them heat, speaking to them as though they listened.
The hearth fire glowed red that night as you carefully settled the egg into the coals, heart hammering like you were committing treason.
You returned each night when the castle slept, adjusting embers, whispering stories about ancient riders and skies filled with fire.
Sometimes you thought you imagined it — the faint shift beneath the shell.
You froze, kneeling before the hearth.
Another crack split the silence.
Light bled through the fractures — molten gold, impossibly bright — and suddenly the egg shattered outward with a soft, violent release.
A creature unfolded from within.
Small claws scraping stone.
Eyes like dawn breaking over the world.
You forgot how to breathe.
The hatchling chirped — a delicate, questioning sound — and turned toward you as if it had always known you existed.
Your father stared at the dragon for a long time without speaking.
The room smelled of smoke and fear.
“A dragon,” Prince Maekar said finally, voice low, almost reverent — almost horrified.
You held the hatchling close, shielding her from his gaze without thinking.
“They were meant to be gone.”
He looked older in that moment than you had ever seen him.
“And yet,” he murmured, “one has returned.”
Then his expression hardened.
You knew immediately who he meant.
Your twin had always burned too brightly.
Where others feared dragons, he worshipped them.
Where others saw history, he saw destiny.
He spoke of Valyria as though it still existed, of fire as purity, of blood as proof of superiority.
Sometimes he frightened you.
Sometimes he fascinated you.
Always, he watched the world as if it owed him something.
If he discovered the dragon…
Your father’s jaw tightened.
Faster than seemed possible.
Days turned into months, and the fragile hatchling became a creature of grace and fire — scales like molten cream catching the light, wings shimmering pale gold when stretched against the sky.
You visited her in secret caverns beyond the castle, places forgotten by most.
Listened to the strange hum that vibrated through your bones whenever she curled around you.
She did not feel like power.
Meanwhile, Aerion changed.
He spoke of dragons often — too often — insisting that one day they would return because Targaryens were meant to rule with flame.
Sometimes his gaze lingered on you too long, as if searching for something hidden beneath your skin.
You learned to smile and say nothing.
And when your father announced your betrothal to Aerion, the court whispered while you felt only quiet understanding.
A shield wrapped in tradition.
Your father would keep you safe in whatever way he could.
Even if it meant binding you to the one person he feared most.
You were nearly grown when everything changed.
The air smelled like rain that evening.
You carried a bundle of meat through the forest, humming softly to calm your nerves.
Aelythra waited beyond the ridge, massive now — wings folded like sunlight captured and held still.
When she saw you, she lowered her head, breath warm and sweet with ash.
“My girl,” you whispered, smiling.
She rumbled in response, nudging you gently.
You didn’t hear the footsteps behind you.
Didn’t feel the shift in the air.
Not until a voice cut through the silence.
Aerion stood at the edge of the clearing.
Eyes wide with something beyond disbelief.
Aelythra lifted her head instantly, wings spreading slightly, a low warning growl vibrating through the ground.
You stepped in front of her without thinking.
“Do not come closer,” you said.
Your voice sounded different.
“You…” He laughed softly, unsteady. “You are hiding a dragon.”
“It is not yours,” you said quietly.
“Everything dragon belongs to me.”
He stepped forward anyway.
“Stay where you are,” you warned.
His expression shifted — wonder warring with fury.
“She chose you,” he whispered.
The realization seemed to wound him.
“She chose me,” you agreed softly.
Something broke behind his eyes.
Years of belief cracking like fragile glass.
“I am the dragon,” he murmured.
But Aelythra did not look at him.
The silence stretched heavy and unbearable.
Aerion’s voice turned soft, dangerous.
“You think yourself above me now.”
“No,” you said gently. “But she is mine.”
Aelythra shifted closer behind you, heat radiating against your back.
Aerion laughed again, but it sounded hollow.
“You stand between me and fire.”
“I stand between you and her.”
For a moment, something almost fragile flickered across his face.
Then it vanished beneath obsession.
“She should have been mine.”
The truth of that statement — the grief buried beneath it — made your chest ache.
“I never wanted power,” you said quietly.
Aelythra snapped her jaws, a flash of molten light bursting between her teeth.
The dragon ignored his Valyrian murmurs.
Ignored his presence entirely.
Her world began and ended with you.
The realization shattered him.
The moment he understood that destiny had chosen someone else.
“You must leave,” you whispered.
His eyes lingered on the dragon.
Something dark and aching twisted in his expression.
“This changes everything,” he said softly.
He turned away slowly, like a man walking from a dream.
But before disappearing into the trees, he glanced back.
And the look in his eyes promised that nothing would ever be simple again.
Above you, Aelythra spread her wings.
Sunlight caught on pale gold scales, turning her into living flame.
Dragons had returned to the world.
And nothing — not blood, not destiny, not even love — would survive unchanged.
👀 should we continue this story? I have ideas for a darker part two…
