It was an unseasonably calm evening on Dragonstone, the sea mist curling low against the windows of the Stone Drum as the household took supper in relative quiet. Years had passed since the betrothal became marriage, and the court had grown accustomed to seeing the Princess of Dragonstone dine beside her younger brother-husband as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Rhaenyra reclined with practiced ease, wine untouched, watching Aegon more than her plate.

"Could you not have waited to have gotten drunk until after dinner?"