Aemond Aegon Mga Nobela at Kwento

I handed him a glass, and took my seat across from him, helping myself to some wine. “So? How is my nephew?” I asked, dropping the glass on the table. “Well,” Galen dropped his glass on the table as well, “Prince Aegon's symptoms are becoming more and more severe. I've given him some herbs to control the symptoms, and make the pain subside but…” he trailed off, “There's only so much pain it can ease. You know that well.” I nodded, “I know, and that's precisely why he needs this marriage alliance.”

The figure chuckled, his hand snaking up to pull the hood , the guards staggering back as they beheld his face. “Aemon,” he said, his lips widening into a mischievous grin, “Aemon Snow.”

“Against my wish.” “You see what I'm saying, don't you?” Her hands touched my shoulders. “Aegon did all he did because he doesn't want you next to Kairel, or you to him. He's my brother and I know what he's capable of doing. I don't expect you to believe me but this is the truth.” “I believe you, Lady Wendeline.” How could I not believe it?

"Say that again," Demi said. "From the beginning." "I already said it twice." "You said it at your speed, which is faster than most people's thinking speed." Demi sat cross-legged on her bed, both hands wrapped around a mug gone cold, eyes fixed on Nora with the focused stillness of someone managing something large. "The crown prince of the Vael bloodline asked you to be his fake fiancée." "Anchor. The legal term is anchor." "I understand the legal term. I'm using the human one because I need to process this in a language my brain actually speaks." She set the mug down carefully. "And you signed it."