Daeron had been in his chambers, engulfed in his cups. you felt quite bad, he looked lonely, or maybe he chose to be like this, to have his only friends be the cups that get him drunk enough to forget everything.

You had noticed his mutterings, but tried talking to him never the less, he continued to mutter, though you heard names, and knew he often had the gift of prophecy, so you asked, “can you speak up, my prince? I cannot hear you.” And speak he did