[Event] Let Sleeping Dragons Lie

The Lord Regent of the Iron Throne - The 12th Moon, 49AC

The halls of the Red Keep were bitterly cold with winter settling in hard across the land. Some mornings the roofs of the hovels and manses and inns were all capped with snow, only for it all to be washed away by drizzle and sleet from the Narrow Sea. Gone was much of its pleasantness which had been present in the autumn. Though Hubert Arryn would never admit to a soul, he preferred it to the Gates of the Moon. Crumbling and haunted undercrofts with flooded vaults entangled in a warren of dank tunnels had always unnerved him. The Red Keep was well built and a real fortress which commanded the vistas from all horizons. The Gates of the Moon were by no means weak or an undependable refuge in winter, but in the shadow of the Eyrie any castle would be lesser in Hubert’s eyes.

Lord Arryn was dressed simply in a long tunic that flowed almost to the floor dyed in the colour of a warm summer's evening. A heavy damask and bear pelt cloak draped down his back trimmed with ermine and with tear drop sapphires affixed to it. He strode with purpose from the Tower of the Hand and deeper into the castle, coming to the drawbridge into the personal holdfast of King Jaehaerys. As each week drew to a close, the Regent and the King would dine together in the evening just the two of them. They had dined often in the Eyrie and, save for when duty and travels have had them apart, the two had rarely missed it.

Once over the drawbridge and treading a familiar path to Jaehaerys' personal quarters he gave the kingsguard on duty outside an affirmed nod and entered with a smile on his lips and tiredness in his eyes. There was a coronation coming in winter. Sourcing the meat and dairy was harder and more expensive than in the abundance of summer.

"Jaehaerys!" He said more jovial than he felt "it will be the last one of these before you sail for Dragonstone and treat with that vicious friend you have managed to find in the mount.” Though Hubert had accepted the danger the King would face for he could not forsake such a boon granted to him, it nevertheless made him worried sick as any father would be. "We do not have many suppers together until I am just your Hand. Then you can pick which poached fish we have, and I'll have my monkfish another evening of the week."

The table was already set and the King already sat. Every time Lord Arryn saw the lad he seemed a bit more grown in some way. He had stewarded his sons through manhood though some of them embarrassed him dearly. Jaehaerys, like Rogar Baratheon, was a man he wished held his name.