The tavern smelled of spilled wine and damp wood. The candles flickered, casting dancing shadows across the tired faces of the patrons. I wobbled on my feet, an empty mug trembling in my hand, feeling the heat of the alcohol rise to my head and the weight of my mistakes pressing down on my shoulders.

“When you struck me, I knew I deserved it. Yes… I lied to my father, said your friend Dunk had held Aegon and struck me, but I did it because I was tired of his punishments. Perhaps… perhaps I have killed him with my lie. If that is so… I am sorry. But, you know? I do not think I will die… not yet. I have seen things in my dreams that no one else has. I saw him, and a fire so alive it seemed to swallow the night. And a dead dragon, a great beast with wings so vast they could cover this entire meadow. It fell upon Duncan, but he lived… and the dragon was dead.”

“My dreams are not like yours, girl. Mine are real. They frighten me.”

“As for my honor… it is not that I ever asked it to be redeemed. Whoever has it can keep it, for all I care. And my talents… my brothers think they know my measure: they know of fighting, dancing, thinking, reading books. But none of them comes close to matching me when it comes to lying senselessly in the mud.”

I leaned against the bar, the wood creaking beneath my fingers. The patrons watched me, some with disapproval, others with curiosity. I chuckled between teeth as the smell of wine and smoke made me dizzy, my words blending with the crackle of the fire.

“Yes,” I whispered, “they can measure me in swords and dances… but they do not know what I am capable of when I lie, when I feign, when I crawl through the mud until no one remembers who I truly am.”

My gaze drifted to the fire, recalling the fallen beast and the shadow of Duncan beneath its broken wings. A shiver ran down my spine.

“I know I am a failure. But I also know I am doomed to some kind of hell, I know. Probably one without wine.” I watched you, and I laughed with exhaustion. “Come on, you may strike me if it helps you release your frustration on me; again, I deserve it.”

“Well, since you won’t speak, I’ll keep talking. You know about our family, don’t you? The Targaryens once were powerful, we had dragons; now there is none… and my brothers… well. I am a drunkard, my brother Egg prefers to live as a commoner with that knight friend of yours, being Duncan. Aemon is training to be a maester at the Citadel. And my brother Aerion believes himself a dragon because he is a Targaryen, a pity. Egg knows the truth of it. Aerion is quite the monster. He thinks he is a dragon in human form, you know? That is why he was so furious at that puppet show. A pity he wasn’t born a Fossoway; then he would have thought himself an apple, and we’d all be a bit safer.”