Forget the dragons. Forget the White Walkers. The most dangerous thing in Westeros right now might just be the electric, sweat-slicked chemistry between a hedge knight and a laughing lord. HBO’s latest Game of Thrones spin-off, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, premiered on January 18, 2026, and it has already shattered the franchise’s grimdark mold with a single, unexpected sequence: a raucous, sexually charged medieval dance that has critics and fans swooning.

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms Review: A Heartfelt Departure

If House of the Dragon was a Shakespearean tragedy soaked in fire and blood, this new HBO Dunk and Egg series is a warm hug followed by a tavern brawl. The premiere episode, which dropped Sunday night on HBO Max, introduces us to Ser Duncan the Tall (played with towering vulnerability by Peter Claffey) not through a brutal execution or a brothel monologue, but through his desperate, clumsy attempts to fit into the Ashford Tourney. The reviews are pouring in, and the consensus is clear: the lower stakes have resulted in higher emotional rewards.

Critics are praising the show’s intimate scale. There are no kingdoms burning (yet), only the burning need for a decent meal and a suit of armor. This Game of Thrones spin-off 2026 succeeds by zooming in. It trades the sprawling geopolitics of the original series for a character-driven "hangout comedy" vibe that feels refreshingly modern while remaining deeply rooted in George R.R. Martin’s lore.

That Ser Lyonel Baratheon Dance Sequence

Let’s talk about the moment that broke the internet. Midway through the pilot, Dunk wanders into the pavilion of Ser Lyonel Baratheon, known as the "Laughing Storm." Played by the scene-stealing Daniel Ings, Lyonel is a man who treats warfare like a party and parties like a war. Instead of a sword fight, the tension between the two knights erupts into a Ser Lyonel Baratheon dance sequence that defies every expectation fans had of a Westeros prequel.

Set to a thumping, folk-infused score by Ramin Djawadi, the scene sees Lyonel dragging a reluctant Dunk onto the floor. What follows is a "joyous, fast-paced, and undeniably horny exchange," as one viral review put it. Ings and Claffey possess a magnetic physical chemistry—Ings manic and fluid, Claffey stiff but slowly loosening up—that transforms a simple jig into a moment of pure, unadulterated character building. It’s not just fan service; it’s a declaration of the show’s thesis: in a world of monsters, finding joy is an act of rebellion.

Ser Duncan the Tall: A New Kind of Hero

Peter Claffey’s portrayal of Ser Duncan the Tall is a revelation. Standing at 6'5", Claffey embodies the physical intimidation of the character but layers it with a boyish insecurity that makes him instantly lovable. Unlike the brooding Jon Snow or the arrogant Daemon Targaryen, Dunk is defined by his imposter syndrome. He’s a "thick as a castle wall" nobody trying to be a somebody, and watching him navigate the perilous social hierarchy of nobility is more stressful than any dragon battle.

His dynamic with Egg (Dexter Sol Ansell) anchors the show. The bald-headed squire acts as the brains to Dunk’s brawn, and their banter provides the show’s comedic backbone. Ansell delivers lines with a Targaryen arrogance that is hilarious coming from a child, perfectly balancing Claffey’s humble earnestness. Their partnership is the beating heart of these Westeros prequel reviews, proving that you don’t need an army to command the screen.

Verdict: The Best HBO Max New Release of 2026?

By stripping away the supernatural apocalypse, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms reminds us why we fell in love with Westeros in the first place: the people. The mud looks real, the armor clanks with heavy authenticity, and the stakes—while small—feel immense to the characters involved. It’s a show about hunger, honor, and the unexpected friendships forged in the rain.

Whether you’re here for the deep lore or just to watch Ser Lyonel Baratheon seduce the camera with his hips, this series is a triumph. It’s messy, it’s loud, and yes, it’s surprisingly horny. In the bleak midwinter of prestige TV, the Laughing Storm has brought the heat.