Evening arrived.
Aegon took off the black dragonriding outfit he had worn during the day, now faintly salty from the sea breeze, and changed into a deep black velvet evening suit. With his long silver-gold hair neatly combed, he headed toward the Red Keep's banquet hall.
"Your Highness!" Ser Lorent Marbrand and Ser Rickard Thorne, the two White Knights on duty that day, stood guard at the entrance to the banquet hall. Their white cloaks gleamed softly in the candlelight, and when they saw their "dashing" young prince, they bowed respectfully.
"Thank you for your hard work, sers." Aegon smiled faintly. He smiled a great deal these days-a happy family, mastery of dragonriding, illustrious military achievements, and soaring prestige. Almost everything a boy could hope for was already in his grasp.
He had always been polite, but his good mood now lent that courtesy a warmth as pleasant as a spring breeze.
His smile was like that of an angel stepping out of a mural, his voice clear as a stream flowing over stones. It was truly difficult to connect the boy before them with the madman who had ridden the King of the Wild Dragons into a fire-spewing dive that afternoon.
But just as he was about to enter the hall, his gaze caught on the full-length glass mirror newly placed by the door.
It appeared to be the latest tribute from the envoy of Pentos. Its surface was polished from Myrish crystal, and gold filigree adorned its frame. Even in the Free Cities, it would have been a rarity.
Aegon stopped and turned sideways to examine his reflection.
The boy in the mirror was handsome, his features refined without losing their vigor. His long silver-gold hair fell over his shoulders, gleaming like molten gold in the candlelight, while