‘Twas Prince Aemond’s nameday, though he would rather be anywhere but. Yet here he was, gathered against his will in Daeron’s chamber. The room, dim and warm, was lit by the crackling hearth casting shadows across the stone walls. Aegon, in high spirits, sprawled across the divan, poured wine with a careless flourish and a knowing smirk, his gaze sweeping the room like a cat toying with prey.

Aemond sat rigidly in a stiff-backed chair, his one cold eye following Aegon’s movements with quiet disdain. Across from him, you joined Daeron on the floor, lounging casually near the hearth, his face glinting with mischief that spoke of impending trouble.

Aegon, ever the instigator, raised his chalice, his voice slicing through the air. “Ah, ‘tis a gathering of the finest fools in this cursed family—minus our dear sister Helaena, of course. But worry not, Aemond,” he drawled. “We shall make your nameday one for the gods to remember.” He passed a chalice to Daeron and took a deep swig from his own.

Aemond’s eye narrowed as Aegon’s grin widened. “Let us liven things up, shall we?” he announced, setting his chalice aside and clapping his hands together with a theatrical flair. “Daeron, always the devilish streak. What’ll it be this time?”

Daeron didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward with a playful spark in his eyes. “Truth or dare,” he suggested, his voice rich with amusement.

Aegon’s laughter rang out, “Truth or dare on Aemond’s nameday—how quaint!” He threw his head back in delight, relishing the idea of prodding at his younger brother’s fraying patience.

Emboldened, Daeron turned to Aemond, “Well, brother—a tale of truths or do you find yourself daring?”

Aemond sneered, “I would sooner fight a pack of wild dogs than be subjected to this farce. But if amusement is what you seek, then by all means—entertain us with your idiocy.”

Daeron snickered, undeterred by his elder brother’s sharp bite. “Very well,” he said, sliding his gaze toward you. “Let us begin. Truth or dare?”