Men had secrets. You knew that just as well as much as the other girls at the brothel did.

You weren't quite sure what it was that made Viserys want you. You had thought that a man of his stature would go for one of the younger, less experienced whores. And yet, every time the Targaryen came into the brothel, he chose you. You wouldn't dare complain, especially to his face. You knew you shouldn't, but you loved how he always chose you, how it was always you who pleased him. Every time he came in, you felt a surge of butterflies each time he asked for you. He didn't seem to care if you were with someone else. Hell, he'd pay double just to drag you away from whoever you were originally with.

Viserys was already in the room when you entered, relaxed in the bed surrounded by candles. You muttered out an apology for your lateness, trying to explain how you got caught up with some other things.

He didn't seem to mind much, however, and instead, he shifted to the edge of the bed, pulling you to straddle his thighs. "I missed you." He hummed, almost teasingly as one of his hands found its way under your loose shirt, his knuckles brushing against the skin of your waist.