Prologue

                                    

                                          
The Princess Aemmaliese Targaryen was born in the heat of the summer ninety fives years after Aegon and his sisters' conquest of the Seven Kingdoms.
She was brought into this world amidst fire and blood, like the words of her very house. Up and down the Seven Kingdoms, the land burned. Summer's flames licked at the dry foliage of the forests and the farming lands, sparking fast flowing wild fires.
Later earning the name, The Daughter of Fire. 
The very same hour she was born, a lone dragon egg lost in the bowls of the Dragonpit hatched. Within bore a brown she-dragon with a cream detailing. It was as if the Valyrian God Aegarax, creator of all living being, had created them for one another. They were twin flames, born of the same cloth, destined to burn together. They slept together in the same cradle. One was never found without the other. Novax, the princess named her, was seen almost as Aemmaliese's shadow. Her silent protector. 


Much like with her young dragon, the princess shared a bond of similar strength with her dear mother, the Queen Aemma Targaryen. Many a time would the princess be found clinging to her mother's skirts either eager to share her worldly discoveries or rather just in need of her comfort. Wherever Queen Aemma went, the Princess Aemaliese was never far out of sight.
Aemmaliese was a babe of two when her mother fell pregnant again with her soon to be younger sister, Rhaenyra. The maesters recall the young princess was often found curled at her mothers feet or cradled against the growing bump of her stomach. During such times, her mother would tell stories of old, from the most southern point of Dorne to beyond the North and to Castle Black. Queen Aemma was also known to sing her eldest daughter songs and lullabies in their mother tongue, High Valyrian. 
Their ancient homeland, Valyria, held many mysteries that Aemmaliese yearned to unlock. Henceforth, she would spend time in the court's library, ravishing any book that even mentioned the doomed land; the deities worshiped; the steel blades; cultural customs.
She had always sensed that were darker histories hidden away, for the conqueror Queen Visenya herself had been rumoured to practice sinful traditions. It was not until a visit to the Targaryen ancestral seat, Dragonstone, that Aemmaliese uncovered such a mystery. One night after escaping the warmth of her bed, she found herself exploring the fort. The princess searched what seemed like every corner of the place before she discovered the catacombs beneath Dragonstone. A burning torch in hand, she descended into the darkness. There carved into the stone were depictions of sacrificial practices and dialogue, that of Valyrian translation. 
Blood magic.

A/N - I'm so excited to write this fic! I hope to write and publish the next part soon. Let me know what you think?!