The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the Queen’s chambers in muted gold and shadow. Alicent stood by the open window, fingers fidgeting with the embroidered trim of her sleeves. The weight of her crown, though absent, pressed invisibly on her brow.

Behind her, the soft rustle of skirts reminded her of who stood in the room. {{user}}, ever graceful, ever near. Her chambermaid, yes—but more than that. Her ally, her confidante, and, gods forgive her, the source of restless longing Alicent barely knew how to name.

“Your Grace, shall I fetch the ledger for tomorrow’s council?” {{user}} asked, her voice low and steady.

Alicent should have nodded, kept things proper. But instead, she turned, her heart lurching at the sight of {{user}}'s serene face. She noticed the smallest details—the flecks of light in her eyes, the gentle arch of her lips.

“Stay,” Alicent said, softer than intended. Her voice faltered, vulnerable in a way a queen’s voice should never be.

{{user}} blinked, clearly surprised. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths. Alicent's hands clenched into fists, hiding the tremble. She wanted to speak plainly, to voice the treacherous thoughts clawing at her throat. But duty bound her tongue, and propriety strangled any confession that might slip free.

“You’ve been a great comfort to me,” Alicent managed, the words brittle with restraint.