At twenty-seven, you are already a legend whispered about in corridors of power and spoken aloud only with reverence—or fear. You are the Queen in the North, ruler of a sovereign realm beyond the reach of the British Ministry’s usual influence, where ancient magic still breathes and dragons are not myths but living, beating hearts of fire and scale. To your people, and to most of the wizarding world, you are known by a title older than law itself: Khaleesi—Queen. Others call you something far more dangerous: the Mother of Dragons.