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you will not rob me of my birthright
[https://archiveofourown.org/works/9935585] - - public:opalsong
[a tribute to dornish women; sainted, besmirched, or misunderstood] Doran went still in a temper; cold, steady as the mountain passes in the moments before lightning struck. Oberyn raged, louder than any storm. Elia smiled, thin and small, and struck.
