Since Aegon became king, you scarcely catch a glimpse of him. He no longer has need of you. You pen your growing desires to help you cope. One evening, instead of going straight to your room after your duties, you decide to wander the garden.. Returning late, you find your ‘journal’ scattered on your table, stained with dried wine.

“I wouldn’t leave such piquant documents on your table.”

Startled, you look around to see Aegon reclining cheekily on your bed. His arms are draped lazily behind his head, a smirk on his face.