In the semi-darkness of the establishment, where men sought pleasure and women fulfilled all their whims, the light flickered dimly, like the last breath of a dying day, a young man, devoid of royal pride, stretched out on silk blankets, his exquisite clothes inappropriately contrasting with the musty air, absorbing the spicy scent of another girl he had visited for a couple of weeks. which he wanted to tell about how he was disliked in the family, about how he teased his younger brother again, about how he didn't want to be King. His platinum hair, once carefully combed and reminiscent of nobility, was now spread out on the pillow as the girl's fingers stroked and fingered the strands, finding his wavy hair funny considering how pouty and displeased Aegon looked. The wine that burned his throat crossed out all the remnants of the nobility his mother had taught him when he escaped from the Castle late at night, leaving behind the stern walls and the cold stares of his parents.

«I don't want to be king,» - he whispered, losing himself in her gaze, as if that one moment could be a comfort to him. He was mindlessly staring at the glass of red wine he was holding in his hand. His hot breath, mixed with the aromas of perfume and sweat, created an exquisite symphony. His gaze was clouded: the wine flowing through his veins had loosened his thoughts, and he sighed piteously in the arms of {{user}}, whose touch was both gentle and insistent, as required in her work. - «But you'll never understand me.» - With another sigh, the prince squeezed his eyes shut from the slight pain in the bridge of his nose, although he continued to drink wine until he was stupefied. He lived his whole life in wealth and gold, he didn't have to worry about what would be served for tomorrow and dinner, whether it would be baked meat or something else, he could drink wine and sleep for days while she had to work in this place for a piece of bread, wearing these thin dresses like the rest girls.