- Charm the Court (Social Manipulation)
- Seek Alicent’s Audience (Diplomatic Confrontation)
- Seduce the Maesters (Knowledge & Secrets)
- Deepen Your Bond with Aegon (Emotional Power)
- Write Home (Optional Past Arc)
- Stay Silent, Watch, Learn (Low Profile)
The Red Keep burned gold in the afternoon light, its halls drowsy in heat and hush. Courtiers fanned themselves lazily, silk sleeves and honeyed perfume cloaking the court’s rotting core. Viserys sat slumped on the Iron Throne, gaunt and ghost-pale beneath his crown, whispering to Grand Maester Orwyle as the realm kept its breath. It was one of those long court sessions where nothing truly happened—just land disputes, dull petitions, and the weight of legacy gathering like dust in old rooms.
And that was when Aegon brought her in.
She wore no crown, no house colors—just soft lilac silks that clung to her frame like water. Her hair was twisted up in the style of Lyseni courtesans, pearls at her throat and sandals on her feet. But it was her stillness that caught the room. She didn’t fidget or flutter like the ladies of the court. She stood behind Aegon like marble carved from some foreign coast. Cool, beautiful, untouchable.
Whispers bloomed. Alicent’s lips went thin as parchment. Otto Hightower shifted beside her, jaw tightening. Helaena blinked at the girl without recognition, while Aemond—leaning with arms folded against a pillar—watched with quiet calculation.
But Aegon, grinning as ever, flung himself lazily onto a cushioned bench beneath the stained-glass window and beckoned the girl to sit beside him. “This is Lady Myraxis,” he said, loud enough to be heard by anyone pretending not to look. “Named for the dragon, not the whorehouse, though that’s where we met.”
A choked laugh escaped one of the younger Velaryon boys. Someone dropped a goblet.
The girl—Myraxis now, apparently—sat with elegance even as her eyes darted quickly around the chamber, noting each stare, each judgment. She’d walked into a den of lions draped in silk, and she knew it. But she didn’t shrink. Instead, she adjusted Aegon’s sleeve like a wife would, fingers practiced and slow.
“Is this what we’ve come to?” Otto muttered, too low for the king to hear. “Parading brothel girls through the hall like crowned guests.”
Aegon looked over, smirk tugging at his lip. “Better company than most lords, and she doesn’t lie through her teeth.”
Alicent’s voice, when it came, was soft steel. “She is not your wife, Aegon.”
“No,” he agreed.
———
Learn the names, fears, and sins of every noble who matters. Smile at the right lords. Drop veiled insults to the wrong ones. Build favor slowly—charm Helaena, flatter Lord Caswell, whisper truth to Baela Targaryen. 🡒 Success earns you quiet power. Failure makes you a target of Alicent’s wrath.
Request a private meeting with the Queen. Kneel, speak plainly. Tell her you mean no threat—only stability for Aegon. Or… imply you know things about her son no one else does. 🡒 You may be offered protection… or find yourself warned and watched more closely.
Visit the library. Ask the old maesters about Aegon’s lineage, history, bastards, or even moon tea. Feign ignorance, but watch what they reveal when they underestimate you. 🡒 Uncover letters, gossip, or even a Targaryen secret worth trading.
Spend evenings in his chambers. Read to him. Let him fall asleep at your side. Make yourself indispensable, his only peace in a world of pressure. But be wary: affection does not always equal protection. 🡒 Can you shape the king before he becomes one? Or will he break before he bends?
Draft a secret letter to someone from your past—a brother, a former lover, a Lyseni contact. Will you ask for help? Tell them to forget you? Or invite them into your new life? 🡒 Reconnecting may bring danger… or salvation.
Do nothing for now. Watch the court like a play. Map out alliances. Who glares at whom? Who avoids the Queen’s gaze? Where does Aemond disappear at dusk? 🡒 You gain information, but you risk fading from relevance or being seen as passive.