Meanwhile, at the other end of the long table, our Lord Corlys Velaryon, the "Sea Snake," had already recovered from the "disappointment" of his wife Rhaenys leaving her seat.
With "ulterior motives" in mind, he rose with a cup of sweet wine from the Arbor, rounded the long table, and approached Viserys, who had been sitting diagonally across from him.
His steps were unhurried. The hem of his sea-blue robe drifted gently behind him, and his silver seahorse brooch glittered in the candlelight.
"Your Grace." He slowly came to a halt before Viserys and bowed slightly, his voluntary gesture of deference executed with impeccable form.
Viserys had still been holding his wine cup, enjoying the warm rapport between his children and Laena. He paused at the words "Your Grace," then slowly turned.
As he looked at Corlys bowing before him, the smile had yet to leave the corners of his eyes, but his brows had already lifted slightly.
"Lord Corlys." Viserys's voice carried just the right touch of surprise-not genuine surprise, but the studied obliviousness of a man who knew perfectly well what the other intended to say, yet insisted on pretending he had only just noticed his presence. "I thought you were far too busy to spare a moment."
He assumed, however, that Corlys had only chosen to "bow his head" because of the strength his eldest son Aegon had displayed that afternoon. Inwardly, he was already delighted by the sight. Even as he spoke those disingenuous words, he naturally folded his arms across his chest, his fingertips tapping lightly against his elbow.
This was Viserys's favorite traditional Targaryen pose-seemingly casual and relaxed, but in truth looking down from above. Now the tables had turned, and he no longer had to swallow any indignities.
Corlys did not straighten. He