Grey closed the window to his mother's bedroom as the sound of northern wardrums echoed through the city streets. [i]'Fuck the North and damn the Artens,'[/i] the Stolen thought dryly. He didn't want his fragile mother to be disturbed by memories of the Hinterlands or of the Kingbreaker, and he drew the thick drapes shut before sitting down on his mother's bed. Taking her hand in his, he began to talk. "Brogan and his stinking Northern horde have arrived to the city, mother. Part of me is surprised the Artens kept their word. Then again, those filthy barbarians would do anything to bed a Southern girl, and a princess especially." Grey furrowed his eyebrows and looked down to see if he had offended Boralle, but her languid eyes and gaunt visage remained unchanged. He squeezed her fingers. 

Grey the Stolen and his mother, Boralle the Deadwife had arrived from the North just over three moons ago. Despite the fact that Grey was born and raised in the snowy castle of the Hinterlands, he hated the North and their warlike ways. He had always felt more kinship with his mother's family, the royal House Loroughe, but King Arten had stripped her of status and of sound mind. In an effort to make peace, Lilah had given the South back Boralle and Grey, and the South had agreed to wed Seralle to Brogan. 

With a heavy sigh, Grey pulled on best clothes to greet the royal families and his half-brothers. Nimble hands flew over bone and gold buttons. The Stolen ran a few fingers through his hair and brushed a piece of lint from his shoulders. "How do I look, mother?" Boralle made no movements, and offered only a slow and seemingly thoughtless blink in response. "Yes, well... All mothers think their sons handsome. Thank you nonetheless." Before leaving, the Stolen poured his mother a cup of wine and sat it on the bedside stand. "Don't worry. I won't give anything away."

The stolen son of Loroughe sprinted down the tower stairs and toward the throne room where Brogan would be greeted. From the banquet hall, he could smell the scents of a dozen different dishes. There had been no feasts for his arrival. Grey sneered and waited with the others in the ambulatory surrounding the central atrium and throne, picking a spot beside his newfound friend and the King's bastard. "Aren't you just thrilled to see the Artens here in the South?" He whispered to Ruarc, giving a malignant chuckle. "I missed my brothers dearly. [i]Dearly[/i]." King Piervue took his central chair, and his daughter stood on his right.

It was then that the massive doors to the throne room opened, and Pyrra Salt entered. Behind her followed three northern barbarians--Brogan, Brom and Lorgan. Only Brom had the decency to bow before the king, and Grey subtly shook his head.