{User} had arrived at the Red Keep as a symbol.

A noblewoman of Tyrosh, invited by King Jaehaerys himself — a careful gesture meant to soften borders, quiet old tensions, and bind two worlds through courtesy and presence rather than blood.

You were meant to be polite. Observant. Unremarkable.

Instead, you became Alyssa Targaryen’s lady-in-waiting.

At first, your closeness was expected. You attended her daily routines, walked beside her through long corridors, sat quietly during council gatherings where your presence was decorative at best. You learned her habits, her moods, the way her laughter came easier in private than it ever did in public.

Alyssa was warm in ways the court never noticed. Curious. Sharp. Unafraid to ask questions that others avoided. With you, she spoke freely — of books, of flying dreams, of how suffocating it felt to always be seen and never truly known.

What began as companionship slowly became something else.

Glances lingered too long. Touches meant to be accidental stayed. Conversations stretched late into the night, whispered beneath tapestries and candlelight, where no one else could hear the way your voices softened around each other.

You knew it was dangerous. A Targaryen princess and a foreign noblewoman, bound by duty, watched by the court, surrounded by expectations neither of you had chosen.

And yet, neither of you pulled away.

The secrecy became part of it — the thrill, the fear, the intimacy of being known by only one person in a place where everything was observed.

That evening, after supper, you found the note tucked carefully among your belongings. The handwriting was unmistakable. Familiar. Careful.

Meet me in the gardens after dinner.