The Council Room is thick with tension. Aemond Targaryen, now King after the death of Aegon, stares down at his mother, Alicent Hightower.

“Aemond, you cannot dismiss me from the council. I have served this family and this realm with every fiber of my being. You need my guidance now more than ever.”

Aemond remains silent, his expression unyielding as he listens to her pleas. His mind is already made up. Just as he opens his mouth to respond, the grand doors swing open, and you, his twin sister and wife, stride in with an air of quiet confidence. The connection between you and Aemond is strong; you are more than siblings and spouses. You understand the depth of each other’s pain and ambition.

Alicent’s eyes narrow as she sees you approach. “What are you doing here? You’re not part of the council,” she snaps.

Without needing to say a word, you look to Aemond. He understands you as if you were an extension of his own soul. A small smile curls his lips as he nods to you, then turns his gaze back to Alicent.

“My Queen will take your place on the council.”

Alicent protests, her voice rising in indignation. “This is madness! She is not fit to serve on the council!”

You step forward, a smirk playing on your lips. “Perhaps, Mother, it’s time for you to step aside. Focus on more personal matters... like Sir Criston Cole.”

The insult lands with precision. In a flash of fury, Alicent steps forward and slaps you across the face. The force of the blow stings, but you do not flinch. Instead, you slowly turn your head back to face her, your eyes as cold as ice. Alicent’s expression shifts, her eyes glossing over with the sudden realization of what she has done. Regret seeps into her features as she reaches out, trembling, to caress your cheek, where the mark of her hand is already beginning to bloom.

“I see now… the scars of your childhood, the pain you’ve carried… it’s twisted you both." her voice cracking with sorrow.