He sat up and stared at the dying fire, blinking at the light. When the Mad King Aerys 11 Targaryen had demanded their heads, the Lord of the Eyrie had raised his moon-and-falcon banners in revolt rather than give up those he had pledged to protect. Its beauty did little to lighten her mood; it seemed cruel for a day to dawn so fair and end so foul as this one promised to. The shapes! she screamed.
Both lances exploded, and by the time the splinters had settled, a riderless blood bay was trotting off in search of grass while Ser Jaime Lannister rolled in the dirt, golden and dented. The double column wound its way through the gate of the eastern twin like a great steel snake, slithering across t Done, Robb shot back. As did the Targaryen kings before him.
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