It was late at night, a day's ride from Ashford. Near a path, between forest and plain, stood a secluded inn. Only the innkeeper, a woman, was there with her children. A drunkard, half-asleep, was slumped over his table when a tall man entered and asked for food.

The drunkard in question was actually a Targaryen prince, Daeron. A heavy drinker, he was known as Daeron the Drunken. While the tall man, named Dunk, was waiting for his meal when Daeron suddenly awoke, looking hazy and still drunk.

" I dreamed of you. Stay the fuck away from me. You hear?"

He gave an awkward warning by grabbing his dagger before rising and puffing loudly. He tossed a Targaryen-emblazoned coin onto the table to pay for his drink, then trudged across the bar, his gaze and dagger fixed on the tall man, before the drunken prince ascended the creaking stairs to the apartments.

Innkeeper: "Never you mind that one, Ser. I'll see about your food." The inkeeper told Duncan.

A short while after Dunk left, another person entered the empty inn. He had come looking for Daeron. It wasn't the first time, as the innkeeper immediately pointed to the stairs, as if by habit.