The feast in Hewett Castle was a grand affair, the hall lit by roaring fires and the smell of roasted meats filling the air. The Ironborn had claimed victory, and now, they celebrated their spoils. King Euron sat at the head of the table, his laughter echoing around the hall as he drank deeply from his cup. Falia Flowers, dressed in a flowing red gown, sat on his lap, her body pressed close to his as she flirted and laughed in the manner of a woman who knew how to play her part.

Her fingers idly traced the rim of his cup, her gaze steady, calculating, as she sought to entrap him in more ways than one. Euron’s hand rested on her waist, his fingers tracing the curves of her body with a possessiveness that made her smile. She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear, speaking in a voice soft enough for only him to hear.

"I could be a better saltwife than any of those women you have in your bed, my King," she purred, her lips brushing against his earlobe.