It hadn't been intentional.

Yes, she was dead. Yes, I'd killed her. But if she hadn't gone on, and on, long past my endurance, kept me away from the eggs, and said those things - woken the dragon...

My hands shook. They were sticky, and smelled of iron. My blood and hers. The dragon's egg felt slippery and warm in my fingers. And then, the dragon's egg slipped. It thumped on the ground, rolled into the fire and sat there. My mouth tasted of stale wine. The flames' crackling hammered in my ears.

What was I going to do now?

I hadn't understood my fear at the time. The girl had only been a maid, after all, and she'd left me with cuts and a bloody lip in the bargain.

But she had been Dany's maid. And even then, I realized what my sister and her horse-fucking husband could do to me, if they chose. Or Ser Jorah, the traitor. If they found me with the egg, and a dead woman...

More wine. I needed it. Where was it? Wine and something to wipe the blood off. And then I could slip out.

Oh, I'd avenge myself on them all, eventually. I even told myself that the maid was a downpayment on that promise. But grand proclamations about revenge did not occupy my thoughts long.

Instead, I tore through cushions and various tent accoutrements. Gold and fine incense and silk. I ought to have paid more attention to the sounds coming from the fire. I only noticed after I'd found the last of the Myrish wine, and was trying to steady the bottle to my lips.

And then, I realized that the fireplace was crackling rather differently.

click

snick

chip

The bottle slipped from my lips, spilling wine on my chest. Though I barely noticed at the time.

Yellow eyes watched me from the fireplace. A baby dragon unfurled its wings, which were so thin that you could see the tongues of flame through them. Its mouth opened and closed, panting.

The dragon shook the last remains of egg from its head, and gave a high-pitched little "snirrrrll."

Do I need tell you how hard my chest was hammering? I doubt it will stretch your imagination much; the histories are honest enough on that point.

The histories don't say anything about its eyes, though. On that tiny face, the eyes stood out more prominently. They stared through you, yellow and hungry.

"D-...what?" I said. "Can it-"

A miracle, I thought. And I felt warmth in my chest, relief mixing itself with my previous fear.

No, I thought. Something else to lose.

And then, I was scrambling.

"A shawl," I muttered. "Something to cover it. Get - we have to get out before anyone sees-"

"On the floor, behind you," peeped the dragon.

The voice alone would have been enough to make me jump. Its source, moreso.

"Gaargh!" I shouted, and fell back into a nest of cushions. I scanned the room wildly, but the only thing was-

"On the floor," the dragon said again, in a high-pitched voice. "Behind you. A shawl."

This was new. And it took me a moment to regain my bearings.

"What? What are-?"

"A dragon," said the dragon.

"But-but you can't talk."

"In that case, you've gone mad," said the dragon. "But the shawl is behind you, just the same."

I stooped to pick it up, feeling a bit awkward.

"We'll have to get to work now," said the dragon. "To fix your mess."

It was a testament to the oddity of the situation that I actually began to wrap the dragon up, mechanically, without protest. It peeked through the shawl like a twisted infant.

Wait, though...

"The other eggs," I said. "Where are-"

"The others will not hatch, Khal Rhaggat," said the dragon. "Not for you. You've already had your miracle."

"Of course they - what did you call me?"

His yellow eyes locked on mine. They were deep eyes; the sort you'd drown in. The dragon smiled with his nest of needle-teeth.

"Viserys Targaryen," said the dragon. "Sorefoot King. Cart King. Beggar King."

It hit me like a blow.

"...Thief," the dragon added.

"How did you- You dare to-"

"Go on," he said. "Dash my skull on the ground. Perhaps your sister will keep you around, out of pity. Perhaps she'll plead your case to the Khal, while he mounts her. Beggar King."

The dragon gave a mocking hiss.

I should have done it. I truly should have crushed his skull under my boot. But he knew me, even back then, and played me like an instrument. And just hatched, too.

"I'll...spare you," I managed. "We're bound, and you're mine, so -"

"No," he said. "We are bound, but you are mine. And stop looking for the other eggs, boy. I told you. You'll have no other dragons."

He looked around the room, taking everything in through those yellow viper's eyes.

"And we will go," he added. "It's evening. We have arrangements to make, and your situation is precarious."

"I...yes. Dany's wedding feast. I can slip out, and -"

"Quiet," he said. "I'm thinking. Also, I will have a name."

"You want-Is this really the time? Aegon, then. And it's my plan, dragon. Not yours. I'm your king-"

"No," the dragon said, narrowing his eyes. "You misunderstand, boy. You will not name me. I will name myself. And I shall be...Smaug, I think."

"Smaug?"

The dragon shrugged his little batlike wings, and pushed his foreclaws together.

"Smaug," he said. "It has character. Smaug the Golden. Smaug the Impenetrable-"

"Smaug the laughable. It's a terrible name, and I already chose to name you Aegon."

The dragon huffed a puff of steam, and glared at me.

"Pah," he said, with a wave of his claw. "You'll choose nothing, boy. You're mine."

And then, the dragon ran a claw over his snout. The leathery flaps around his eyes made him appear far older.

The dragon's gaze passed from the broken eggshell, and alighted on a golden lamp that I'd overturned earlier. It was a distant, yearning, needful expression. Like a man in a brothel. Staring, and staring at the gold.

"I feel...attached to the name, somehow," he said. "The philosophers once said that our souls remember things...names, mathematical propositions... You've heard that? Eh? Never mind. Why ask a fool about the stars?"

I squeezed the hilt of my sword.

"I may not be able to kill you," I said, "but you'll find other punishments are available to me if you wake the dragon."

"Wake the-hah!" he said.

He poked his head through the shawl.

There was a cold something that passed from his eyes to me. A shudder ran through me. This wasn't a momentary shiver from a bit of cold. It was an intense shaking that I couldn't stop. I felt ice in my stomach. My hand loosened and dropped.

I fell back into the cushions. The dragon crawled over my chest and looked at me nose-to-nose like a monstrous cat.

"Let me give you a bit of advice, boy," he said. "Never abuse somebody who will grow smarter and more powerful than you."

I was still unable to stop shaking.

"Or shall I swear allegiance your sister instead?" he said. "Hm?"

He waited. It wasn't long.

"S-Smaug, then," I said.

As I've already noted: he had my measure, even back then. Clever worm.