━ Chapter Three

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III. 𝑶𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂 𝑾𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆, 𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒂 𝑾𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆
96ᴀᴄ
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 𝑶𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂 𝑾𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆, 𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒂 𝑾𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆96ᴀᴄ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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DEIRDRE WAS SURE HER HANDS WERE TREMBLING. The numbness that had spread throughout her entire body made it unclear, but she felt certain that her fingers were twitching erratically against the skirts of her dress as she walked behind the woman of gold.

The halls of Dragonstone felt so long compared to the Red Keep, or perhaps her nerves were making her think that. It felt as though it had been hours since leaving Lady Aemma's chambers and following after the woman towards Prince Daemon's, but realistically she knew it could be no more than five or ten minutes.

The doors along the corridor were tall, looming over her, looking at her with judgemental eyes. They were fancy doors, carved with dips and curves and painted with dragons, some with just the heads, some with the dragons flying and she even saw one depicting Visenya and Rhaenys and their shared husband conquering Westeros. She thought it all looked so mystical and so foreign, nothing like the lewd dragons and bare women of the Red Keep tapestries or the artwork within the brothel of which she had worked and lived from infancy to maidenhood ( or, as maiden as a girl known to so many men could be ).

"We are here, Lady Deirdre," the woman spoke dryly, urging her to knock with her sage eyes. She was a beautiful woman, one perhaps more befitting of whatever the Prince wanted. Deirdre noticed the golden lion embroidered upon her otherwise plain dress. Another of Aemma's handmaidens, she recalled, the woman whom she shared a room with. It took a moment for her name to come to mind. Cera? Cerene? No, it was Cerelle. Deirdre nodded internally, pleased to have at least remembered that of the girl. Cerelle pinched her face inwards as she looked at the younger girl.

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