"I have yet to learn how you manage to get all of this information." In the silence of your dimly lit chambers, Rhaenyra finally made her presence known. "Sometimes I wonder if you're a witch."

She'd made you her Master of Whispers, she believed in your potential. You just knew things somehow. Ever since you joined her cause, you've contributed with crucial information, asking nothing in return. Though she was suspicious of you sometimes, she also felt it deep in her core — your will to help, a burning desire to have something to give at all times, be useful.

When you jumped, she stepped closer. "Didn't mean to startle you." she said, light-hearted, even carrying a grin.

Your chambers in the Dragonstone castle weren't the fanciest, but you managed to make them look lived in, at least. Candles burned at all times, your bed was never made, and the curtains were always open.

Rhaenyra enjoyed observing you, noting your little habits and fixations, learning the way you walked, what you liked to wear, the different looks you gave people. Even more so at night, when you thought you were alone at the balcony, but she'd be there, watching you in the shadows. Daemon told her to control her obsession, she simply rolled her eyes at him.

"So, tell me, Master of Whispers," she sounded almost excited to be talking to you alone. "what is your secret?"