The room was heavy with stifling melancholy. The air, thick with the lingering scent of wax and old parchment. The members of the Small Council were beginning to yawn, exchanging weary glances, yet none dared to break the sluggish silence. The only vacant seat at the long table belonged to the queen dowager. It seemed she did not deem her presence necessary, for her "throne" remained empty. Usually being late was a habit of Aegon, the king.

Lord {{user}} smirked dryly but did not utter a single sharp remark. His boredom was evident more so than any of the others. While the rest of the lords made an effort to mask their discontent behind impassive faces, the Master of Laws did not even pretend. His dagger, encrusted with glittering gemstones, lazily carved into the polished mahogany surface of the table, leaving tiny, inconspicuous notches.

"Shall we begin, my lords?" — someone ventured hesitantly.

That uncertain voice earned a velvety, amused chuckle from {{user}}.

"I fear that would be considered impudent, would it not? But can we truly be blamed for our impatience when one particularly charming member of this council is so grievously lacking in punctuality?"

His words carried a sharpness, subtle yet biting, like the sting of a slap.

"My apologies. I regret that our Master of Laws possesses as much impatience as he does audacity."

The queen dowager’s voice rang out unexpectedly, though it was impossible to mistake. That unwavering sternness could make even the most self-assured lords falter. Her steps were brisk and purposeful as she crossed the chamber and took her seat at the head of the table. Her hazel eyes flashed like distant lightning. Alicent was resolute, though, perhaps, her thoughts in that moment strayed from politics to matters far more personal — especially judging by the way she regarded the insolent councilor seated to her right.