Her son running around with the crown prince of Westeros who was disguised as a sellsword. She supposed stranger things had happened, although she racked her brain to think of any. "I suppose so long as that is the worst that befell him I should be grateful. But I don't expect that will save him from a tongue lashing the next time that I see him." She moved to sit, but first poured a glass of wine. "Wine, love?"