The Great Hall of the Red Keep was resplendent that evening, every corner bathed in the glow of hundreds of candles and the gleam of polished silver. The banners of House Targaryen—black dragons on crimson fields—draped the walls, their imposing presence reminding all who entered of the dynasty's power. The high table at the far end of the hall was elevated, its centerpiece the thrones of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne.
Hadrian Peverell entered alongside King Jaehaerys, the two flanked by an array of courtiers and guards. Behind them, Kreacher followed at a respectful distance, his appearance cloaked in the persona of Regulus Black, a minor noble of Skagos. Though diminutive in stature compared to the towering figures around him, his sharp eyes missed nothing.
Hadrian's attire, the fine wool and fur of Skagos accented by his house's sigil embroidered in red and gold, drew many curious looks. Whispers passed through the gathered lords and ladies as they took in the tall, enigmatic figure from the distant, wild isle.
The King gestured for Hadrian and "Regulus" to sit at a table near the high dais, an honored position reserved for those of note. As they settled into their seats, the royal herald announced the start of the feast. Servants moved deftly, bringing out platters of roasted meats, bowls of steaming vegetables, and flagons of wine. The hall filled with the hum of conversation and the clinking of goblets.
As the evening progressed, Hadrian found himself seated beside Lord Lyman Beesbury, the astute master of coin. The man's brown hair was beginning to grey and his frame gean to thin out but his mind was still as sharp as ever as was evident in his piercing gaze.
"Lord Peverell," Beesbury began, his voice steady, "Skagos has long been a name spoken in whispers rather than in council chambers. Tell me, how fares your isle after its long separation from the rest of Westeros?"
Hadrian smiled politely, sipping from his goblet before replying. "Skagos is a land of resilience, my lord. Though isolated, its people are hardy and its resources abundant. We are only beginning to scratch the surface of what can be achieved now that we are rejoining the realm."
Beesbury nodded thoughtfully, stroking his chin. "A land of resilience, indeed. But with resilience comes the challenge of integration. Have you given thought to the matter of taxation? It is no small task to ensure fairness while rebuilding your economy."
"Of course," Hadrian replied smoothly. "Skagos has approximately 250,000 men, women, and children. Our current economy is modest, but there is immense potential. As trade routes open and our resources begin to flow southward, we will undoubtedly grow. However, I would suggest an initial leniency in taxation to allow for reinvestment in our infrastructure. Once we are on stable footing, I foresee no difficulty in contributing our fair share to the Crown."
Beesbury's lips curled into a small smile. "A pragmatic approach. It seems Skagos is in capable hands."
"I am fortunate to have loyal advisors," Hadrian said, glancing toward Kreacher, who nodded discreetly. "I hope to engage in further negotiations as our economic strength becomes clearer. Skagos has much to offer, and I am eager to ensure that both my people and the realm prosper."
As their conversation continued, Hadrian's sharp ears caught snippets of another exchange from a nearby table. A Crownlander noble, dressed in overly ornate silks, leaned close to his companion and sneered, his voice deliberately loud enough to carry.
"Skagos," the man said, swirling his wine lazily, "a land of wildlings and stone axes, no doubt. Uncivilized, untouched by the progress of centuries. I wonder if they've even discovered proper bathing yet."
Hadrian's jaw tightened, but he kept his expression neutral, turning back to Lord Beesbury with a calm demeanor. Kreacher, however, bristled, his hands clenched into fists beneath the table.
"Regulus," Hadrian said softly, placing a steadying hand on his companion's arm, "ignore them. Their words are born of ignorance, and they will see soon enough the strength of Skagos."
Kreacher inclined his head reluctantly. "As you say, my lord."
As the evening wore on, the feast grew livelier. Minstrels performed songs of old Valyria and the conquests of Aegon the Conqueror, their melodies weaving through the air. Servants brought forth ever more elaborate dishes—succulent roasted swans, fish stuffed with herbs, and golden pastries that melted on the tongue.
Hadrian engaged in conversations with several lords and ladies, subtly weaving the narrative of Skagos's transformation. He spoke of its abundant resources and its burgeoning trade network, painting a picture of a land poised for greatness. While some remained skeptical, others, like Lord Beesbury, seemed genuinely intrigued.
The old queen Alysanne herself descended from the high table at one point, her presence commanding respect even in an age where most were already dead as her thin frame moved gracefully through the hall. She paused briefly at Hadrian's table, her smile putting him at ease.
"Lord Peverell," she said, her voice warm, "I must say, your arrival has caused quite a stir. It is not every day that we welcome an isle as storied as Skagos back into the realm."
Hadrian rose from his seat and bowed deeply. "Your Grace, the honor is mine. Skagos is proud to stand under the banner of the Crown."
"I hope you find this court to your liking," she continued, her tone conversational but probing. "It is a far cry from the rugged beauty of your homeland, I imagine."
"Indeed, Your Grace," Hadrian replied. "King's Landing is a marvel of human ingenuity, a testament to what unity can achieve. While it is different from Skagos, it inspires me to dream of what my own land might become."
The Queen's smile widened. "A noble sentiment, if it were true. The stench of the city is so strong sometimes, I don't know how I was able to live this long in this city, but I appreciate the sentiment. I look forward to seeing what you accomplish."
As the feast stretched late into the evening, the hall grew rowdier. Lords toasted one another with increasingly slurred voices, and the clatter of cups and platters filled the air. Despite the revelry, Hadrian remained composed, observing the court with quiet interest.
At one point, Kreacher leaned in and whispered, "Their decadence is almost laughable, my lord. How do they rule when they are so... distracted?"
Hadrian smirked faintly. "Do not mistake their indulgence for incompetence, Regulus. Many of these lords wield power in ways that are not immediately apparent. The game they play is subtle but dangerous."
Kreacher nodded, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the room.
When the feast finally began to wind down, the King himself stood, raising his goblet for a final toast. The hall quieted instantly, all eyes turning toward the Targaryen ruler.
"To new beginnings," Jaehaerys declared, his raspy voice carrying through the chamber. "To the unity of Westeros and the strength that lies in its diversity. And to Skagos, which returns to the fold, bringing with it the promise of prosperity and friendship."
The lords and ladies raised their goblets in response, echoing the King's words. Hadrian joined them, his expression resolute.