The Red Keep had no shortage of men trying to prove themselves, but Ser Tyler made it his personal mission to be noticed.

He was new — painfully new — the kind of knight whose armor still gleamed too brightly, whose smile lingered just a second too long when ladies passed. Servants whispered about how often he found excuses to patrol whichever corridor the queen happened to walk through. It wasn’t subtle. It was… enthusiastic.

You, however, treated him the same way you treated the marble statues lining the halls: polite acknowledgment, nothing more. Your attention was steady, reserved — and when your gaze lifted, it always seemed to seek only one person.

Aegon noticed.

He leaned against a carved pillar in the throne room balcony, silver hair catching the afternoon light as he watched Ser Tyler perform an unnecessarily elaborate bow in front of a cluster of court ladies. The knight’s eyes flicked toward the queen, clearly hoping you were watching.

You weren’t impressed. If anything, your expression suggested you were mentally cataloging more important matters — trade reports, council disputes, anything but the knight’s theatrics.

Aegon huffed a quiet laugh under his breath.

“Does he always peacock like this?” he murmured to a nearby guard.

The guard wisely pretended not to hear.

As if summoned by instinct, you turned slightly, your attention settling on Aegon across the hall. The shift in your posture was subtle but unmistakable — your focus sharpened, the noise of the room fading around you. Aegon straightened, an answering spark of amusement in his eyes.

Ser Tyler chose that exact moment to step closer, offering another polished bow.

“Your Grace,” he said smoothly. “If you require an escort, I would be honored—”

Before he could finish, Aegon descended the steps with measured confidence, boots echoing across stone. Conversations dimmed. Even Tyler seemed to shrink half an inch.

The king stopped beside his queen, presence warm and solid, his tone casual but edged with unmistakable authority.

“I believe,” Aegon said lightly, resting his gaze on the knight, “my wife is quite well attended.”

The air shifted.

Ser Tyler swallowed, bowing quickly. “Of course, Your Grace.”

You didn’t need to say a word — your calm expression spoke volumes. Tyler stepped back, suddenly fascinated with anywhere that wasn’t here.

Aegon’s attention flicked to her, amusement lingering.

“Well,” he murmured, low enough that only you could hear, “that was entertaining.”

And the court, sensing drama narrowly avoided, resumed its hum — though more than a few curious eyes followed the retreating knight.

The game, it seemed, had only just begun.