After supper with the Targaryens, I made my way toward the fairgrounds.
The night air was cool, carrying the smells of roasted meat and spilled ale.
I had sold the shield Ser Arlan left behind, but I'd bought a new one from the system shop. Now, I wanted to see a certain Dornish puppet girl — Tanselle.
"Ser Duncan!"
I turned. Egg was jogging toward me, his fine doublet fluttering as he ran.
"Where are you going with that old shield?" he asked.
"You shouldn't wander alone," I said quietly.
He followed me anyway. Stubborn boy.
We crossed the outer yard and reached the fairgrounds. Merchants were closing their tents, calling out the last of their wares. Lanterns swung in the breeze, casting long shadows.
I finally found her!
A tall Dornish woman stood by a small wooden stage, arranging painted puppets under the light of a hanging lantern. She hummed softly as she worked, brushing sawdust from her skirt.
Her skin was the color of warm sand, her dark hair gleamed in the moonlight, and her eyes were bright with focus. Despite her patched dress, she moved with quiet grace.
And there — sitting on the table — was exactly what I'd come for: a dragon puppet.
My stomach tightened.
I knew this moment. In the story, Prince Aerion would watch her show tomorrow, see the dragon slain, and take it as an insult to House Targaryen. Then he'd break her fingers.
Not this time.
I stepped forward. "Good evening."
She looked up, startled, then noticed Egg beside me — and the guards not far behind.
"My lords," she said quickly, bowing her head. Her voice carried a soft Dornish lilt.
"No need for that," I said. "We were just passing and saw your puppets. Fine work."
"Thank you, ser," she said cautiously. "We perform stories for the smallfolk. I'm just repairing a few pieces before tomorrow's show — the tale of Florian and Jonquil."
Egg's eyes widened. "I love that story!"
Tanselle smiled, pleased by his enthusiasm. "Would you like a preview, m'lord?"
Egg looked at me. I shrugged. "Why not?"
She lit a small oil lamp behind her paper screen. The thin parchment glowed warm and golden. From behind it, she raised her figures on thin sticks.
The shapes danced across the screen — Florian, the brave fool; Jonquil, the fair maiden; a monster in the form of a dragon. Her voice changed with each part, playful and full of life.
Egg leaned forward, watching with wide eyes as Florian drew his sword.
But when the paper dragon appeared, its shape caught the light — wings spread, head curling like the Targaryen sigil.
My chest tightened.
Florian struck the dragon down. The shadow fell, and the maiden cheered.
I had to act before this story reached Aerion.
When the show ended, Egg clapped. "That was wonderful!"
Tanselle smiled and bowed slightly. "Thank you, m'lord. It's an old tale, but people love a hero and a monster."
I stepped closer to the screen, keeping my tone calm but firm. "You need to change that dragon."
She blinked. "Change it? Why?"
"That shape—three heads, the wings—it looks too much like a Targaryen dragon. If a prince sees it slain, he might think you meant it as mockery."
Her eyes went wide. "Seven hells. I never thought— It's just puppets, ser!"
"I know. But not everyone will see it that way."
Egg nodded. "He's right. My brother Aerion... He is not good person."
She paled. "I meant no offense. What should I do?"
Egg crossed his arms, thinking. "Make it a wyvern instead. different colour and shap of head, no one will stop you for killing wywrns."
Tanselle's eyes brightened. "A wyvern! Yes, I can cut the extra head and shorten the wings. It'll just be a monster then, not a dragon."
"Do it before morning," I said softly. "Make sure it looks different enough."
She nodded quickly. "I will, ser. Thank you for the warning. Most knights wouldn't bother to tell me."
"I don't want to see anyone punished for a harmless story."
She hesitated, then asked, "You're kind, ser. May I know your name?"
"Duncan," I said. "Ser Duncan the Tall."
Her smile returned, warm and gentle. "Tanselle. They used to call me Tanselle Too-Tall."
"You're not too tall," I said without thinking. "You're just tall enough for..."
She laughed — a soft, musical sound that made Egg grin.
"Maybe I can do something for you, ser," she said. "A thank-you for saving me from trouble."
Egg nudged my arm. "Your shield! it needed repainting."
I looked at Tanselle. "Could you paint a sigil?"
"I paint all my puppets," she said with pride. "I can paint a shield just as well. What do you want on it?"
I thought for a moment. "An elm tree, with a sunset behind it, and a shooting star above!"
Tanselle nodded, imagining it already. "It will be beautiful. I'll have it ready by morning."
I unbuckled the shield and handed it to her. "I'll pay you fairly."
"No need," she said softly. "You've already paid me — with kindness."
I smiled. "Then we're even."
As Egg and I turned to leave, she called after me, "Good night, Ser Duncan. And thank you."
Egg glanced up at me with a knowing grin. "You like her."
"I just met her."
"You still like her," he said, smirking.
I didn't answer.
What could I say? I'd read this story before. I knew how it was supposed to end — her fingers broken, her dreams crushed.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I'd changed something. Maybe that was enough to change everything.
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