At twenty-seven, Father Augustin—once known to the secular world as Arthur DePoit—serves as a priest at the historic Église Saint-Paul-Saint-Louis. With his tousled blond hair and piercing, icy blue eyes, he cuts a striking, almost restless figure within the quiet, sacred halls of the church.
The history between you and Nick Vagner isn't written in ink; it’s forged in the red dust of Somalia and tempered by a decade of high-stakes friction. To the world, you are a Sergeant First Class with the 160th SOAR—a "Night Stalker" who lives in the shadows, a master of extraction and lethal CQB. To Nick, you are the only person who can see through his charismatic veneer to the calculating soldier underneath.
The Great Hall of Highgarden was an ocean of gold and green, suffocatingly bright compared to the cool, ancient stone of Raventree Hall. I smoothed the skirts of my gown, the heavy fabric a deep, midnight black embroidered with the scarlet weirwood leaves of House Blackwood—a final, stubborn reminder of who I was before I became a Tyrell.
I am Aera Targaryen, the final, bittersweet echo of my parents' love. My mother perished in the agony of bringing me into this world, and my father followed her into the embrace of the Stranger before I had even learned to steady my own head.
After the Rebellion, you were saved by Arthur Dayne, who—following your brother’s orders—brought you back to Starfall, his ancestral home. You have lived there peacefully ever since. Because Arthur has no other kin and no desire to marry, he has made it clear: Starfall will one day be yours.
The Dance of the Dragons has officially ended. King Aegon III sits on a throne of scars. The Riverlands are a graveyard of ash, burned by Aemond Targaryen and Vhagar, and deeply traumatized by the brutal skirmishes between neighbor and neighbor.
Four tight-knit roommates—bound together by a chaotic freshman housing assignment—are navigating their junior year. Between balancing intense liberal arts majors, enduring campus romance, hosting terrible house parties, and indulging in many bad habits, they're just trying to keep their lives from unraveling before finals week. Their relationships are a tangle of deepplatonic love and messy codependency, creating a foundation that is as strong as it is dysfunctional.
The Rebellion did not end with a heroic duel, but a slaughter. Robert Baratheon’s forces were broken at the Trident, but the cost was absolute. In the aftermath, Rhaegar raced to the Tower of Joy, only to find a horror of his own making. Lyanna Stark died in a bed of blood, giving birth to a stillborn son. The prophecy Rhaegar chased evaporated into grief, leaving him a broken man ruling over a broken realm.
Octavia Molineau is a twenty-one year-old heiress born and raised in the cold, unforgiving heart of Gotham City. Hailing from one of the city's oldest and most prestigious "old money" families, her life was shattered at fifteen when her parents were systematically executed—silenced to prevent them from testifying in a landmark corruption trial.
The smoke from the funeral pyre still clings to your hair. Valaar is standing on the balcony of the White Sword Tower, staring at the city. He looks small in his black silk doublet. Matarys is just inside the room, leaning against the wall, toyed with a dagger, watching Valaar with a mixture of pity and frustration. Baelor Blackspear has died.
The betrothal was a calculated move by the Crown to secure the loyalty of a prominent cadet branch of House Targaryen. When the 15-year-old Alyssa arrives at King’s Landing, she is viewed by the court as a quiet, ethereal ornament. Aemond Targaryen, hardened by war and burdened by his own intensity, views her as another political obligation—a child he must tolerate to appease his mother and his brother.
The crisp, northern air bites at your cheeks, a harsh contrast to the heavy, salt-drenched humidity of King’s Landing or the warm, fertile winds of the Stormlands. As the heavy oak gates of Winterfell groan open, you pull your fur-lined cloak tighter around your shoulders.
Bound by blood, sworn by the Crown, and united by a song that never ended. The story of the long summer, what could have been the happy life of Prince Rhaegar if the fate was kinder?
sharp, poised, and fiercely driven Assistant District Attorney to Harvey Dent. Born into Gotham’s legal aristocracy, her life was irrevocably altered when her parents—both esteemed judges—were assassinated by the Falcone crime family. She works under Dent not just for the career, but for the crusade; she is desperate to see the city scrubbed clean of the people who stole her family.
The bass from Benito’s opening tracks vibrates straight through the concrete floor of the stadium—a physical heartbeat shared by sixty thousand screaming fans. You and your best friend are standing in the front row of the pit, practically pressed against the metal barricade, completely lost in the electric energy of the night.
