Aerion returned the hug happily, and gave Aeryn a once over. “Hail Cousin! Glad to see my absence hasn’t soured your mood.” He held his cloak aloft with an outstretched arm, showing the various crimson stripes that streaked through from the times he’d had to have holes stitched close, a testament to how long the young man had possessed it. “A man cannot simply waste his days away while wine and women flow freely outside his door. I suspect the women will rejoice once they see me, I suspect Jace has kept bored witless.”

“Regardless, I’m happy to see you too, friend. Pray tell, I’ve heard from the maids that Uncle impaled Ser Brune on the throne? Something about a madman pulling a fork and trying to attack him?”

“I understand I’ve been absent but gods above I never thought I’d miss so much.” True enough Daemon had been more than slightly off since the end of the war, having taken the loss of his family hard, as any man would. Aerion has always loved the man, but he’d since been distant, forcing his kin to seek solace away from their patriarch. “That aside how’ve you been, days turn to weeks turn to months it seems.”