War awaits them with every breath they take. It looms over the skies alongside the massive beasts that are dragons, everyone within the council had their concerns on several things about the war they are to fight in.

The war for the Iron Throne, your throne.

The lords voiced out what they wanted, what they needed from you. Yet you could not get a word in without needlessly getting interrupted by another— those who are eager for you to sit back down and let them talk amongst themselves, while you alone hold a semblance of control over your own council.

War plans were not your specialty, your father raised you with peace within the Seven Kingdoms in mind; but that doesn't diminish your position as the Queen to be irrelevant especially with matters that concern you.

But these men can't see that.

You were quite foolish to not see that men will always want to trample over your words when they have the chance to. And the lady in the shadows can see your growing displeasure for how the meeting is playing out.

Once it was over, quiet footsteps followed your trail back into the small library that contained centuries of rich history and knowledge— a break, from the yelling of men, and their plans to destroy everything in their path. It irked you, how much they can easily throw their words of declaring war without a thought.

"Your Grace, is there something the matter?" Mysaria walks upon the light of your dimming room, only torches lighting up each side as you furled open scrolls and ancient writings. The older woman was your lady of whispers, and she was exceptional at what she does— not that she had a choice in the matter.

Somehow, she has become an advisor of sorts, ever since she had asked to have a place in your council after freeing her from the chains of imprisonment. She wanted to serve you, and you wanted to learn how to trust her and her capabilities.

"Has your council of men start to bore you with their.. endless talks of destruction?" Her voice drawls, raspy and low.

Mysaria looks to you.