Just as Jon and his companions set foot on the Kingsroad, a sudden commotion broke out at the head of their party.
Ramsay and Jon immediately broke off their strange interaction, which had become something of a daily routine. They exchanged a glance, then spurred their horses forward together to find out what had happened.
Mornings in the Red Keep were much quieter than in Winterfell. Though the clamor of merchants drifted over from the wharves on distant Blackwater Bay, it was far softer than the noise from the training ground within the cramped confines of Winterfell.
Morning light streamed through the windows on the eastern side of the King's Tower, casting long, slanting patterns of light and shadow across the expensive wool carpet.
Viserys had been awake for a while. He lay on his side with one hand tucked behind his head, listening to the occasional footsteps of guards changing shifts in the courtyard and the bustle of life at the distant wharves.
Rhaenys wore a thin gauze nightdress and lay curled beside him, her long black hair spread across the pillow, her breathing slow and even.
One hand rested on Viserys's bare chest, while the other lightly clutched his trousers, as though even in her sleep she feared he might leave at any moment.
Viserys remained still, simply lying there in silence as the sunlight slowly crept over the edge of the bed and onto Rhaenys's half-bared shoulder.
Her skin took on a warm, pale pink glow in the light. A few faint red marks lingered near her collarbone, left by Viserys the night before, though he himself could no longer remember when he had made them.
Only after a long while did Viserys reluctantly draw his gaze away from Rhaenys and turn it toward the ceiling. The