Tonight's banquet ended much earlier than expected.
By the time the candles had burned down past halfway, Viserys, the "worried" old father, finally set down his wine cup in satisfaction, rubbed his slightly rounded belly, and announced that they would call it a night.
Before leaving, he even remembered to wink at Aegon-
His expression combined the encouragement of "Your father supports you" with the warning of "You'd better not be fooling me, boy. Don't sneak off to Crackclaw Point and make things irreversible"-and anyone could have read it.
Aegon had finally paid the price needed to convince his father Viserys with his carefully prepared arguments. But just as he was about to leave the banquet hall and return to his room, a slender, pale hand caught him by the back of his collar at a corner in the corridor.
Before he could even struggle, Rhaenyra expertly pulled him close and clamped down-
More precisely, she tucked his head beneath her arm like a cabbage she had stolen from the kitchen.
Her long silver-gold hair was still pinned up behind her head, with a few loose strands brushing Aegon's cheek. The honeyed scent of the banquet's food and wine mingled with the sulfurous smell of dragon breath, enveloping him.
With practiced resignation, Aegon bent at the waist, his head pressed against Rhaenyra's soft side, his legs mechanically shuffling along with her steps.
"You spent so long talking to Father tonight. Why don't you have a little chat with me?" Rhaenyra's voice drifted down from above his head, so gentle that it made his hair stand on end.
The other family members leaving the banquet reacted to the scene in very different ways.
Starting with the youngest, Daeron.
The three-year-old stood at the side of the corridor, clutching his mother Alicent's