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Summary
Alicent and Rhaenyra had met as they had ended, because of their fathers, in a room that felt stiff and impersonal, wearing high-end dresses that somehow clawed at their skin, with revised and respectful words on their tongues—she held a polite smile while Rhaenyra held a true Targaryen scowl.
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This wouldn't end another way, not even in a modern world.