[RP/D] Hidden Dragon

"Will you stay a while? The children are abed, but I'm sure Ben would love to see you."

"I would love to see Ben." He smiled. He remember when he and Ben had first met on the road six years ago. Met even before Ben had met Corrine. I was so young. He was hardly old now, just turned twenty, but he felt much older.

"Then it would be lovely if you would both come and have a drink with us. I have a bottle of Stormlands red that will warm us up nicely."

She took them up to her solar, and sent a servant to find Ben. In the meantime, she invited the pair to sit, then carefully laid Deception on the table, and poured cups of full-bodied red wine from the Stormlands side of the Marches.

"Are either of you hungry?"

"I am absolutely ravenous." grinned Nathan. "So is he," indicating Daeron, "although I doubt you would ever hear him admit it. Something about privation building character. The only character I have ever seen built with starvation is bitterness and anguish."

Daeron looks at Nathan for some moment, then picks up the proffered glass of wine. "Something to eat would be lovely. Thank you."

Corrine gave them her characteristic warm smile and nodded. She sent Bren, her handmaid, to fetch some food for the guests.

"I'm afraid it probably won't be as fine as you are used to," she said to Daeron, apologetically. "This is a particularly harsh winter, so we have had to be more frugal. But our kitchen staff are talented & resourceful. If they can make food my two-year-old will eat without a fuss, then they can satisfy anyone," she chuckled softly.

The large oak door swings open with a groan, as Lord Marsten briskly enters. The large shadow cat cloak snaps through the air as he removes it and shakes the snow from it. By instinct a hand runs through his hair to remove any snow and dampness. Tossing his cloak to a nearby chair he finally observes the room.

Saucer like eyes quickly observe the abnormal sight before him. A well trained right hand crosses his body to the hilt of his sword. His newly developed diplomatic mind overrides muscle memory. A crooked smile replaces the look of shock. Instead of the hilt the hand finds the buckle of his sword belt and works to undo it.

What in the Gods name he is doing here and with a dead Prince at that? It was good to see anew old familiar face.

He gives a small bow to the grown whore. His smile making his pleasure to see him obvious. He keeps his courtly shields up until comfortable with the situation. "Master Nathan."

Turning to the young Prince, Ben gives even less of a bow, more a nod. "I am unsure of what to call the ghost of former prince." His words are playful, but distant and cautious.

Switching his undone sword and belt to his left hand he extends his right to the pair, in turn.

Nathan rises and, always one to dispense with ceremony when he chose, gives the Knight a warm hug. "Ben, more scars? I agree scars give character, but one should never take anything to excess... with the possible exception of sex." He turns to Prince Daeron. "Allow me to introduce squire Jon Daleford. Prince Daeron is quite dead, at least until some poor fool decides to pretend to be him."

Jon rises and gives Lord Marsten a respectful bow.

Corrine smiled to see Ben and Nathan embrace, with no small measure of relief.

"Nathan has asked me to see that Jon is looked after, and I agreed. I had thought to have Ser Garlan take him on as his squire."

Ben returns the embrace enthusiastically. He momentarily reddens at the mention of sex. Then cast a saddened look towards his wife. They were no longer the couple of their youth, that Nathan had poked fun at. Age and duty had slowed them. The loss of a child had nearly halted them.

He bows politely to Prince. "Ser Jon. I take no hard feelings are harbored against us. We have enough of that in abundance among our own."

Moving to the table he kisses his Corrine affectionately, placing his hands upon her shoulders and he kneads the tension that often resided there. He gestures for their gueats to return to their seats.

"Well our debt to you was large. A princely sum I wager. With the old man out of commission the next best thing would be his boy, I guess. Garlan is every bit his father."

"I would not have agreed to harbour him if I thought there would be resentment, my dear," Corrine reassured him, squeezing one of his hands as he grasped her shoulders. "Jon has sworn himself into my service, and I'm sure he'll be happy here, far from the vipers' nest of the Capital."

She gave Daeron a sympathetic smile.

"Ser Garlan is as honourable and brave a man as his father. He'll keep you right."

"Aye. Nathan would lay no enemy inside our gates. And I feel your matching with Garlan will be a boon to them both."

His hands continue to knead gently at his wife's shoulders. He looks to Daeron with an envious look, that slips easily into an ever present lopsided grin.

"It will be a much simpler life, not easy, but simple."

"Shall we drink to our simple, difficult lives then?" Corrine asked, with a wry smile at her husband.

[Looking to wrap up as it's quite far behind now.]

Nathan raised his glass to Lord and Lady Marsten. "I want you both to know that, while I know thousands of people, I have very few freinds. Less now. Three of those friends sit in this room. A rare occurrence to be sure. We may not have been on the same side, but I do not think our goals were very far apart.

If you need my help, lay my sword in the arms of the Stranger. I will hear and I will come, or if I cannot come, I will send you what aid I can. We have lived through dark times, and perhaps there are darker still to come, but I think, when this winter ends, there will be lighter times ahead. There are many good people no longer with us, but there are many terrible people who are no longer with us either. So long as the terrible people outnumber the good people, I will be content."

Corrine raised her own cup to that.

"I agree. We will prevail. Thank you, Nathan."

Ben scoops up an used cup. "To simple lives, difficult times, and friends."