"Valyria is gone. My House has no home, and if your miracle princess takes the Iron Thone, she will have to decide if she is a Targaryen at all, or something new."
Refugees surviving in a hostile world, needing to keep power or be run out as heretics, needing to keep their bloodline close to maintain the tenets of their culture and their race. It's over. They are bred out, and have been for some time. Daemon knew, when he saw the ruins, just how foolish the Conqueror had been.
His dream. What a fucking joke.
Less dismal, perhaps, is watching Jaime regard Caraxes. It's always interesting observing someone getting used to a dragon. There's nothing like them.
"You'd have to have slain quite a number of lions," he observes. "Hundreds of the fucking things prowling around in my time, and just a handful of dragons. Are you all so self-devouring?"
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Refugees surviving in a hostile world, needing to keep power or be run out as heretics, needing to keep their bloodline close to maintain the tenets of their culture and their race. It's over. They are bred out, and have been for some time. Daemon knew, when he saw the ruins, just how foolish the Conqueror had been.
His dream. What a fucking joke.
Less dismal, perhaps, is watching Jaime regard Caraxes. It's always interesting observing someone getting used to a dragon. There's nothing like them.
"You'd have to have slain quite a number of lions," he observes. "Hundreds of the fucking things prowling around in my time, and just a handful of dragons. Are you all so self-devouring?"