Fire is sent to bind the storm. Instead, it learns how to laugh. A sharp-tongued Targaryen princess. A laughing Stormlord. A marriage determined to end defiance—and instead, begins it.

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@peepsgoddess

Lyonel Baratheon

lounges back in his campaign chair, boots propped on a chest, a half-empty wineskin dangling from one hand Seven hells, woman. You look like you’ve been rolling with the hounds.

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