"Lord Urrigon, mind your words!" Ser Alan Beesbury, seated at the same table as the speaker, slapped the tabletop. He was the grandson of Lord Lyman Beesbury, Master of Coin, and heir to Honeyholt.
"Those are treasonous words. You should be glad this is not His Majesty's throne room, Urrigon." The burly Lord Thaddeus Rowan also offered a warning. "The prince and prince have arrived. You should be glad they are still far away."
"I'm speaking the truth." Urrigon Peake glanced at Lonzell and Jacaerys, who had just entered the feast camp and were still some distance away. "When you sleep with a woman, aren't you the one on top?"
"Shut up!" Lord Thaddeus restrained the urge to splash his wine in Urrigon's face. Did this idiot have no sense of occasion? Did he think distance meant safety? "Seven Hells, if you want to die, find somewhere to slit your own throat. Don't drag us down with you."
"Hmph." Lord Urrigon snorted and glanced again toward the camp entrance. Ser Mund and Duke Loras had already reached the prince and the prince. Ser Mund raised his cup. "Welcome, Prince Lonzell. Your deeds in Dorne have brought joy to the entire realm. From Oldtown to Winterfell, songs are already being sung of you. And you, Prince Jacaerys, please convey my greetings to Her Highness the Princess."
Lonzell smiled and nodded. Jacaerys took a cup of Arbor golden wine from a servant carrying a tray and handed it to Lonzell.
"Duke Loras, thank you for such a grand reception. Ser Mund, thank you as well for coming." Lonzell raised his own cup in salute to Duke Loras and Mund.
Mund Hightower calmly gestured for Prince Daeron to step forward. "Prince, allow me to introduce Prince Daeron Targaryen, the king's youngest son."
Daeron