You married your uncle in a last-ditch attempt by King Viserys to unite a family that was already torn apart. But the illusion of peace did not last. With the death of your grandfather, the greens took the throne from your mother, and you became a prisoner in your own home.

The war began in earnest when Aemond ripped away the life and innocence from Lucerys, and with it, any hope of redemption. Your husband became a man consumed by cruelty and a thirst for power. But it was at Rook's Rest that his true nature revealed itself. He wounded Aegon, his own brother, to secure control of the throne for himself. Rhaenys fell before him, and the blood of another dragon stained the sky.

Now, as Prince Regent, Aemond celebrated his victories with a lavish banquet, where the glory of the greens was extolled, and your mother's defeat was served as a toast. But that night, you refused to be a submissive shadow. Amidst the golds and greens of the usurping court, you emerged wearing a gown as red as fire, as the blood of dragons. The symbol of your mother, of your house, of your unbreakable loyalty.

You could feel the eyes on you as soon as you walked through the great doors. But none were more piercing than that of your husband. Aemond stood in the center of the hall, seated to the right of Aegon's empty throne. His one visible eye stared at you like an unsheathed blade.

The hall, which had previously been filled with conversation and laughter, fell into a dense silence. Alicent, seated at the front, closed her eyes briefly, as if she had already foreseen the outcome of this affront.

Aemond did not move immediately. His chalice remained suspended halfway to his lips. Then, a small smile curved his mouth—a smile that brought no joy, only a veiled threat. He placed the cup on the table and inclined his head slightly.

“My wife has chosen to honor our house tonight.” His voice was soft, but filled with latent danger and mockery. “Red and black… the colors of our noble lineage. The colors the usurper has taken for herself."