Another day. My visits to Smaug, where I'd demand his obedience, had become a daily ritual. For all the good they did.

"More than miasma and less than a cloud

I rain on the Flowers' tree

I drank of princes whose only offense

Was the monarch whose blood they be."

I sighed.

"I don't know the answer," I said.

Smaug allowed the silence to stretch on, until I began to feel uncomfortable. Well - more uncomfortable. Smaug's eyes roved in the darkness, chains clunking as his body coiled and shifted. His scales rasped together. Smaug didn't have much space; the cavern was small, and he'd been crammed into it like a cobra in a wine goblet. It was a musty place, mildewed and wet.

The remains of a palace guard had stained a patch of gold at Smaug's feet. Even under the spell of the dragon-horn, Smaug would not suffer the removal of his treasure. Servants whispered that Doran held nightly conferences, scheming to take the dragon's remaining hoard. But Doran wouldn't dare open action anymore.

"Come now, boy," Smaug said. "You're not trying. That disreputable girl of yours was better at this. The one who cuckolded you."

Involuntarily, my jaw clenched. Smaug's voice made the cavern shudder. His boasts of old were ringing truer now. My teeth are knives; my scales are armor...

Guards watched us both closely, crossbows aimed. Aimed at both of us, I think. We were speaking an older form of Valyrian at Smaug's urging, but that wasn't a complete guarantee of privacy.

And, oh, yes...my beloved wife. Prince Doran was quite sympathetic, or so he said. A terrible thing. Smaug's fault, of course. And Doran was most distraught that the dear girl had fucked another man. But, well, that's what black magic does to nice, virtuous ladies. Poor thing. Oh, they'd executed her paramour, as a sop to me.

"You did that to her," I said.

"I, Viserys?" Smaug said, holding a claw to his chest in mock indignation. "I allowed the girl to become her truer self. Everyone does when they know me long enough. Even you," he added with a smile. "Though the Martell fools seem to think you immune."

It was too much. Once, I might have wondered, Why me? Or I might have raged at the worm, before I'd known him long enough to fear the consequences. But Smaug was chained...for now...and I couldn't bring myself to feel much of anything but exhaustion. And there was something dreamlike in the air that day, like I was floating.

"I'm tired, Smaug," I said. "Don't you ever get tired?"

He said nothing. The yellow, unblinking eyes watched my descent as I sank to the floor. Hard coins pressed into my knees. I felt a tightness in my chest.

"It goes on forever," I said. "Nothing works. On, and on, and on-"

"Kings don't live forever," Smaug said. "Nor do dragons."

The response forced a bitter laugh from me.

"Dany always wanted to go home," I said. "It's not even there anymore. There's just an iron chair."

Smaug shrugged his wings, and snorted.

"Nobody can go 'Home', boy," Smaug said. "There is no 'Home'. There are baubles - iron chairs, say - and places where you can sit on them. Free me."

"Stannis's curse," I said.

"Eh?"

"That's the answer to your riddle earlier. The Tyrells are dying like flies against Stannis. The family tree-"

"Yes, yes, yes," Smaug said, his tail twitching in frustration. "Although - speaking of Tyrells, we can head north after I burn Sunspear down. Change of scenery. The Tyrells' vassals are deserting them; with me at your back, that will change. For your throne, eh, boy? I hear there's a sweet Tyrell girl who might do nicely as a second-"

"It'll end the same way," I said.

"Ah," said Smaug. "You're learning."

"Besides, they keep me under guard now," I said. "I can't get to the Unsullied."

"I wouldn't need the Unsullied."

"Sometimes I wonder whether they arrange these visits to quiet you down - or because they hope you'll take a bite at me," I said. "Now that Arianne's safely pregnant, anyway."

Or so Smaug had warned me, in a previous meeting. Like so many other suspicions in my life, the thought hadn't originated with me. Smaug's dragon-smile returned. He puffed a miniature smoke-ring, small enough for his cramped new quarters.

"Bless me, but you're a fool, boy," Smaug said. "Didn't consider the consequences of enlisting Oberyn against me, did you? Still, he might have given you the horn - gods alone know where he found it - if you hadn't threatened his niece with a dragon."

"Dany's still alive, at least," I said. The ungrateful bitch, I added silently.

Smaug tilted his head, looking me up and down like a hawk waiting for meat from a falconer.

"For now," Smaug said, with some glee in his voice. "But a doom lies upon Sunspear. Even the stupider of the two princes senses it. Oberyn's taunting grows shrill."

Smaug's threat was solid enough. On that first night, a single blast from Oberyn's dragon-horn had been enough to bring Smaug to heel. The warlocks of Qarth had claimed that that would be the end of it. But the horn's pull had weakened over time. Oberyn's warlocks wove spells; Oberyn's dragon-horn wove spells; Smaug unwove them both.

The dragon-horn blasted daily by now. Every day, Oberyn's guards marched a new condemned man to it. The first night's blast had wrenched Smaug around like a puppet. Now, Smaug swayed and hissed when the horn blew, but he kept his gaze always on Oberyn Martell.

"All I want is a pile of gold," Smaug said. "Is that really so much?"

A strange mood indeed must have come over me that day, since I replied as follows. I don't remember the exact words, but the sense of it was:

"Desired by kings

Men hoard them with care;

Vouchsafed with rings,

But worth less than the air."

"Ha! Ha!" Smaug said. "I'd worried my efforts were wasted on you; I'm pleasantly surprised, despite the poor poetry. Promises, obviously, is the answer. And I take your meaning."

"And?" I said.

"Have I ever broken a promise, Viserys? I'm chained in a cave at your bidding, remember."

It was a fair point. Strictly speaking.

"Swear to keep my sister alive and happy," I said. "With an additional oath of good faith, sworn on all the gods and whatever else will bind you. And Arianne-"

"Doran's family dies," Smaug said. "You can't save Arianne from me, and even the bargain I'm offering you is a gift. Oberyn's magic tricks are fading. That the Martells would allow you near me at all is proof that they're desperate."

That was also true enough. Why send an unreliable, wastrel king to renew his commands to a dragon, if you thought the horn worked?

"Is Arianne's child mine?" I said. "I'm asking on the same oath."

Smaug the Golden scowled.

"Yes," he said.

"Dany and Arianne both," I said. "And the child. That's my price. And may you burn in the Seven Hells if you cheat me."

Smaug raised what would have been an eyebrow, had he not been a dragon.

"You're selfless, as sneaks and liars go," he said. "No protection for yourself?"

I'd like to say that I replied without hesitation, but I didn't. It's not easy letting go of your oldest illusion. Especially when it's pulled you out alive through dust and blood; death and filth. And I was afraid to die.

"I've always known how my story ends," I said. "Valar Morghulis."

Light flared in Smaug's throat.

"The blood," he said, "must be given willingly and quickly, before our wardens notice. There are deeper magics than Oberyn suspects. Come closer. Stretch out your arm."