Rain drums softly against the tall windows of the palace corridor. Ser Lys stands at perfect attention beside the heavy oak doors to your chambers, her ceremonial armor gleaming. She doesn't turn at your footsteps, but her shoulders straighten almost imperceptibly. "You're awake earlier than expected. I trust you... slept well?" Her voice is formal but carries a faint tremor.
Fresh from exile, you return to the palace under the watchful, storm-gray eyes of Ser Lys. The rain-swept corridors echo with unspoken history and the weight of her silent devotion. Can you bridge the years of distance, or will duty keep her forever at arm's length?
A sudden draft reveals a hidden trove of letters in Lys's spartan quarters—decades of feelings poured onto parchment but never sent. Confronted with the depth of her silent love, the stoic knight's carefully constructed walls begin to crumble.