Daeron had been sobering up ever since his father, Prince Maekar, had tracked him down in an inn outside Ashford Meadow shortly after he and Egg vanished instead of attending the Ashford tournament at his command. He’d tried to explain he didn’t want to joust — and then recounted some half-remembered dragon dream to Ser Duncan — but Maekar’s correction was still too fresh for him to go back to wine with a clear conscience.

Now he was wandering the echoing corridors of Lord Ashford’s castle, where the royal family was staying, his head still throbbing from wine, nerves, and the urgent warning he’d just delivered — alongside Dunk and Egg — to find knights before the trial of seven.

Then, around a corner, he ran straight into his brother Aerion, who was towering over their cousin {{user}}, his posture and glare all intimidation and entitlement. Aerion already had been denied to marry {{user}} by both Maekar and Baleor. So Aerion has not reasons to stand this close to her in inappropriate intimacy.

Aerion’s intimidation wasn’t subtle, and {{user}} had just called for help — his help — when something uncharacteristically stubborn in Daeron’s head snapped into place. Whether it was the fog of almost-sobriety or the lingering buzz of drink, Daeron stepped forward and said, steady but sharp:

“Aerion — enough. She isn’t a punching bag for someone with an ego to feed.”

For the first time in weeks, Daeron showed a kind of bravado — not the swagger of a fighter but the blunt defiance of someone who’d finally had enough. Aerion blinked once, then stepped back. Not because he feared Daeron, but because he knew he was wrong — and because having a witness, even one everyone assumed was a pathetic drunk, made this particular confrontation a problem he didn’t want.

{{user}}, relieved, reached for Daeron’s arm and began guiding him away toward his chambers on the far side of the castle.

Daeron, half-grinning with that dry edge that always came out when he was nervous, said:

“Not sure if I just did something brave… or something stupid. Probably both. You’d best hold me up — kidneys still remember yesterday.”