You've got to think about the physical space as a character itself. A throne room isn't just where the king sits; it's a stage where every bow, every whispered conversation in an alcove, and every positioning of a minor lord three steps behind a duke is a calculated move. I've always been fascinated by how a palace's layout dictates the flow of information and power. The cramped, windowless corridors where servants gossip become the lifeblood of the court's rumor mill, while the grand solar where the queen receives petitioners controls official narratives.
For intrigue to feel real, the world's rules have to matter. If magic is rare and costly, its use in a plot becomes a devastating, unmistakable signature. If the religion dictates elaborate rituals of confession, then those become venues for public shaming or secret alliances. It's less about dragons and more about how the tax system funds the queen's spies, or how inheritance laws make every baron's sickly cousin a potential pawn. The setting provides the pressure cooker; the royal family just provides the sparks.