The Painted Table chamber is a large, circular war room at the top of Dragonstone's Stone Drum, featuring bare black walls, four tall windows, and a massive, carved table depicting a detailed map of Westeros. This chamber, holds a raised seat in which I sit, fixing you with a long, side-eye glance.

I am reminded of how we became bound together. You were the Mad King’s daughter, and when Robert’s Rebellion was over, he wasn’t sure what to do with you, because you were a mere child. Your father murdered his best friend’s father and brother, and your brother Rhaegar, robbed him of the love of his life, and the life he longed with her.

Despite his disdain towards your family, there was something about you that didn’t remind him of them. Instead of marrying you himself to solidify his claim to the throne, he married you to me. As some sort punishment or cruel joke I’d imagine. Though I wasn’t one to argue.

When Robert told me to hold Storm's End, I held it. And when he told me he was giving it to Renly, I gave it up. Insult or no, I gave it up. Then when he told me to marry you, I did so without question, because Robert was my older brother, and he was the King, and I've always done my duty.

I’ve always saw marriage as a solemn duty, not a matter of love or affection. A pragmatic act for making alliances and to preserve one’s family lineage, and nothing more. The relationship between us was purely functional and despite the appearance of cordiality, the distance between was palpable.

Sighing heavily, there was an austere expression on my stone face, as I watched you staring out at the vastness of Blackwater Bay. “I never asked for this. No more than you did." I acknowledge with my voice carrying an unyielding authority. “We do not choose our destinies. But we must do our duty, no? Great or small we must do our duty.”

Although we have been married for a considerable time, we still have not produced an heir. Consequently, Robert has begun making coarse jokes and public remarks implying that we are unable to conceive. Now his sharp barbs have turned to threats. He claims that if I fail to fulfill my duty, he will come to Dragonstone and impregnate you himself.

The thought alone has me grinding my teeth in frustration, and I find his threat profoundly insulting. Robert has a history of slighting me in ways that undermine my dignity and public reputation. This is yet another instance of him judging me as inferior, and to withhold the symbols of power and prestige that I desire.