[ It's just as well that Tim halts her fussing with a gentle word and reorients their conversation to its melancholy beginnings. I just wanted to see you makes the ache inside her yawn wider, a chasm of unanswered feeling. She has had neither friend nor confidant since Larys guided their companionable dinners into unholy transactions. What could a man want from her, if not her body? What could a woman, if not her secrets and station?

Tim would never do such a thing. The thought frightens as much as it comforts, when trust is a risk she should not take in times of war. It isn't like that here. He isn't. She means it when she praises his kindness, a virtue most lacking in the Red Keep. ]

I suppose I am as well as I can be, under the circumstances. [ she drags her vanity's stool before him, wanting for closeness. ] Better, for having company, though I do not know what to say.

[ Her hands twist in her lap, nails digging into her palms. ]

[ quieter, ] Her name is Rhaenyra.

[ That truth is owed, when she knows the pain in his heart by name. ]