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After the deaths of her betrothed and her husband, Daenys Targaryen returns to Summerhall as little more than a burden her father cannot rid himself of. No man will have her now. Not with the whispers that follow her, not with the pattern no one dares to name.
They call her cursed. A witch. A woman no man survives for long.
Daenys has learned to endure it, to wear grief like silk, to play the quiet, obedient widow no one questions. It is easier that way. Easier than admitting the truth.
The dreams never stopped.
And lately they have begun to change.
Because now, she sees him.
Baelor.
The one man she has never been able to want any less, no matter how wrong it is. In the waking world, he is distant but not in her dreams.
Daenys knows that it isn't misfortune that follows her. She is the misfortune. And if Baelor has found his way into her visions then he may already be beyond saving.