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H A R R E N H A L


A𝖊𝖒𝖒𝖆 𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 d𝖊𝖋𝖊𝖓d 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋 𝖆𝖌𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖙 𝕯𝖆𝖊𝖗𝖔𝖓, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖎𝖑𝖞 𝖔𝖚𝖙𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖕𝖊d 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖓 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖌𝖙𝖍

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A𝖊𝖒𝖒𝖆 𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 d𝖊𝖋𝖊𝖓d 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋 𝖆𝖌𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖙 𝕯𝖆𝖊𝖗𝖔𝖓, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖎𝖑𝖞 𝖔𝖚𝖙𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖕𝖊d 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖓 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖌𝖙𝖍.

He pulled her effortlessly into the hallway where her and Aemond's chambers were and when she lashed out at him, he grabbed her upper arm and pushed her roughly against the wall. His grip was hard and merciless and she stared at him in shock, unsure who this man in front of her was.

"Why do you have to make it so hard?" he hissed, his blue eyes glaring at her. "Do you think this is easy for me?"

"I can't let you fly out to kill my brother, Daeron! Why-"

"Do you need help, my prince?"

They both looked to the side and saw Ser Arryk standing not far away from them. He had one hand around the hilt of his sword as he looked at them both. Aemma immediately recognized him as Ser Erryk's brother, who had brought King Viserys' crown to her mother. How strange that two brothers who looked so similar were so different.

"Do I look like I can't handle a woman?" Daeron hissed angrily, a hint of indignation in his voice.

"No, my prince."

"Then go and make sure the men are ready. Dragonstone is under attack and there is no time to waste."

Ser Arryk stood for a moment, as if debating whether to obey the order, before bowing and disappearing.

She and Daeron were left alone and Aemma tried again.

"Daeron, please listen to me."

"Stop it."

"You are not a killer."

"How do you know that? You don't know me."

"I don't know you? I know you better than anyone else."

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗖𝗥𝗢𝗪𝗡 I AEMOND TARGARYENOnde as histórias ganham vida. Descobre agora