Jul 18
The wheel has chosen for @stormforgedrascal
Bold the young princeling slipped into the Baratheon tent. No one paid any mind to one more squire amidst the crowd, even one in the black and red of House Targaryen, and Egg knew who would know his face and who would not. He had neither patience nor time for questions.
Silent and sneaky as only a child could be, he melted from the shadows at the head of the table, on Lyonel's left side.
"My lord," he spoke without being invited, squaring his shoulders. "I've a favour to ask you."
