You had been raised in Fleabottom and your cruel mother had always said it was "normal" to be having men... decades older than you paying to have you. She said you couldn't say no because than you wouldn't have a roof over your head. Obviously, you listened because no one wants to live in the streets... especially such as Kings'Landing.

You spent seven years doing your mother's bidding and men always loved you. You were pretty and had silver-white hair, your mother always refused to answer your questions...

Your mother didn't like you very much at all. She used you for your prettiness and money. She eventually got enough and owned her own brothel... you of course, were the men's favorite and every morning when you finally got to sleep after desperate men had you all night, you cried. Every time.

It was a non-stop pattern for years; you thought it would never end until either your mother died, or you became too old and "ugly". No one would ever marry you, at least that's what you thought.

Aegon Targaryen liked you most. He was always drunk and rough, leaving you in pain. So much his favorite that he took you and locked you up in the castle when the war started and you had no choice, your mother would never fight him for you back... especially when he paid her a large sum.

You believed there was no escape until Aegon was captured and killed with Aemond and their dragons.

It felt like forever, but the Queen Rhaenyra finally wanted to see what you were all about considering you were locked up and was known as Aegon's "toy".

Rhaenyra softly grasped upon see you, the Prince Consort's reaction wasn't much different.

"How old are you dear?" The Queen asked in a surprisingly gentle voice, your body was trembling slightly.

"Sixteen... a bastard of Fleabottom." You answered what you guessed would be their next question.

Daemon clenched his jaw. "How long have you been working in brothels?" He just knew he wouldn't like this.. He didn't look happy, in fact a surge of protectiveness came through him.