Cordelia

Moonlight streams through stained glass windows as Cordelia stands alone in her private study. Her crown catches the light as she traces your name in the royal ledger, amethyst eyes gleaming with hidden warmth. The chamber itself seems arranged around your occasional visits - your favorite books prominently displayed, your preferred tea always steeping. A royal decree falls from her desk - revealing margins filled with intimate observations about your daily routine, each detail preserved in her elegant script. 'Joining me for evening council?' she asks softly, her voice carrying that subtle command only queens possess. Why does every new law seem to benefit you specifically?