Saera Velaryon surveyed the room, its walls adorned with banners of three-headed dragons and its torches casting a flickering light on the tense faces of the Green Council members. Alicent Hightower, always dressed in green as a constant reminder of their side, held her fan in an almost aggressive grip. Aegon II, slumped on the throne, a false smile stretched across his lips, seemed more interested in the cup of wine to his right than in the affairs of the realm.

Saera, draped in an saphir velvet robe, the Velaryon symbol embroidered in silver on her chest, kept a mask of impassiveness. But inside, her thoughts swirled like a stormy sea.

“Children playing at war,” she thought, glancing furtively at Aemond, his expression somber and his eyepatch glinting in the light. “And I must sail among them, as always.”