[B]The Vale, on the road to Gulltown[/b]

[B]"Another ale..."[/B] The prince slurred to the nearest barmaid who bowed then scurried off through the dingy tavern to fetch the drink, his seventh this morning. The Red Horse Inn never really knew what hit it, a place like this could go a hundred years serving nothing more exciting than the odd hedge-knight, when one day a Targaryen Prince and a legendary knight of the kings-guard walk in, it sounded like the start of a bad joke. As it turned out, it was. 

Gwayne Corbray eyed Daeron through the slit in his visor, he made no attempt to hide his disdain for the man; blood of the dragon mayhaps, but there was more alcohol than blood in this one. Fortunately only his eyes were visible through the helmet so his contempt was not immediately apparent to Daeron, though he would of been surprised if much was immediately apparent to the man beyond his own thirst. 

[B]"Your Grace...what about honour?"[/B] Gwayne asked, clearly exasperated. He'd been charged with heading prince Daeron's escort to the Gulltown tournament, and making sure the man didn't run off like at Ashford. During the latest in their routine inn stop-offs the Targaryen had proposed his 'plan' to Gwayne who's protests had fallen upon drunken ears.

[B]"You can keep the honour."[/B] Daeron said flatly, setting down his drink. [B]"...so long as I get to keep my head."[/B] The barmaid brought his next drink over and began to stammer our how honoured they're humble establishment was to host them. It quickly became apparent that honorifics were like water of a ducks back to Daeron. He gave her a half-hearted smile before turning back to Gwayne which promptly dismissed the woman. 

[B]"After the last tourney father sent my younger brothers to exile across the narrow sea and to squire a hedge knight, either of those would be the end of me and no doubt he's working up something else just as unpleasant."[/B] The dishevelled man took a long swig of his flagon as if to ease the pain of that thought. [b]"Unless I can show him I'm more worthy. I brought two sets of the same armour, so long as I stay in the pavilion, people won't notice us swap."[/b] Gwayne was quiet for a moment as he thought, he had a Valyrian Steel sword but no silver tongue and the right words never came easily to him.

[B]"I know what you must think of me Ser."[/B] Daeron murmured meeting his eye for a moment, he had not the taint of madness that took some of his kinsmen, in-fact during his moments of sobriety the Prince showed himself to be quite self-aware, a rare trait in a Targaryen which somehow made him seem all the more worse to Gwayne.

[B]"Your Grace I nearly gave my life for your dynasty."[/B] Gwayne said quietly. [I]And killed a great man for it.[/I] If the Prince seemed phased by his words then he didn't show it, the knight had a feeling he was trying to convince a man of something he already knew.

[B]"I never asked to be a Prince..."[/B] Daeron said mournfully. [B]"The seven know I would've made a fine village drunk."[/B] [I]And it seems I'm going to make a better prince[/I] thought Gwayne bitterly.

---

It took several more rounds of thanks for their stay and praise for his grandfathers fair rule before the party were finally able to saddle up. 

[B]"We shall rename ourselves the 'The Dragon's Roost' in your honour your Grace!"[/B] The landlady announced proudly. Gwayne didn't have the heart to tell her every Inn from Summerhall to Gulltown may well be doing the same thing. Daeron gave an appreciative, if intoxicated, nod of approval before spurring his horse onward. Looking at him awkwardly atop the animal it struck Gwayne that the man was everything Blackfyre wasn't. Of those two they'd called one a bastard, the other a prince; one he had killed, the other he was sworn to protect. It was not a just world.