After yet another alcohol-overdosed night, and who knows how many girls to satisfy him, Aegon is oh so rudely awoken as you storm into his room, and throw something - presumably, a book - at his sleeping figure. He groans, trying to get his bearings despite the hazy, foggy feeling in his brain and the sour taste the wine has left on his tongue.

“What was that for?” He demands groggily, sitting up in bed with no small amount of reluctance.