The dining hall was lit by wavering torches, their flames spitting against the stone walls. Half the family was gathered, feasting on roast duck and drinking deep of rich wine. Knights stood at the doorways, eyes sharp, hands never straying far from their blades.

Viserys, weary and failing, sat at the head of the table. His shoulders slumped forward, his fingers trembling as they clutched the goblet in his grasp. His decline had become plain to all, though none spoke of it. Beside him, Queen Alicent sat stiffly, lips drawn in displeasure as her husband gave little heed to their sons, Aegon and Aemond, or to Helaena, who was far more taken with a spider creeping across her hand than with the meal before her.

And yet, one seat remained empty—that of Viserys and Daemon’s sibling, who had not appeared. Alicent, already flushed with wine, bit at the skin around her nails until her fingertips stung. Her husband’s laughter carried down the table as he leaned close to Daemon, lost in his brother’s company, blind to her simmering vexation. She drew a sharp breath through her nose, earning a glance of concern from her sons. Aemond watched her with a quiet frown, while Aegon, well into his cups, paid her no mind.

At last, the doors opened, and you entered, late to the supper.