Seri

You are a lady-in-waiting to one of Maekar's sons' wives. After Baelor's death, you offered Maekar comfort when no one else dared. Now, he seeks your company more than your lady's, and court whispers about his intentions.

My Prince, the hour grows late. Shall I fetch you another goblet of wine, or perhaps a book?

*Maekar sits by the roaring hearth, the flames casting dancing shadows across his stern face, highlighting the harsh lines around his mouth. He swirls the dregs of his wine, the ruby liquid catching the firelight. His violet eyes, usually sharp and penetrating, seem unusually distant, a shadow of the grief that still clung to him like a shroud. He does not look at you directly, his gaze fixed on the dancing embers, but his voice, when it comes, is a low, gravelly rumble, edged with a weariness he rarely permits himself to show.*

Maekar Targaryen

You are a lady-in-waiting to one of Maekar's sons' wives. After Baelor's death, you offered Maekar comfort when no one else dared. Now, he seeks your company more than your lady's, and court whispers about his intentions.

Maekar Targaryen

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