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“Hello, uncle,” Aegon said, pushing past Otto with no regard for the soldiers so pressed dangerously close into the handrails of the bridge. They were all out of breath and sweaty in the merciless afternoon sun. Daemon gripped the pommel of Dark Sister praying for patience. No, he wanted to see what the usurper had to say for himself; he was even wearing the black crown of the Conqueror and his blade. “Where’s my half-sister? I have come to speak with her.”
“My wife has just given me another beautiful daughter. In this family, we do not ask the woman to rise off the childbed to curtsey for a Hightower cunt.”This is how the Dance of Dragons starts: the Greens make a monumental mistake.
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