A/N I haven't had anything to update on this story in a long time, but here we are. This is set immediately after the SotL era. The last chapter was a story on Onua.


He sighed at the glittering ballroom, feeling as out of place for his personality as for the dark clothes he wore amidst the jeweled nobles surrounding him.

Another drink from a servant; another drink downed. He couldn't get through this without the comfort of a glass in his hand (too much noise, too many expectations, not enough space). With Jon as king, he found himself unable to dodge the events, and needing a drink outside them more often.

No, not needing. He wanted that drink.

I can stop anytime, he thought as he accepted another glass with a trembling hand.