Daemon had never been a man for rules. The sneers, the whispers, the council’s venom, none of it ever mattered. He was the second son, with little chance sitting on the throne. His brother King Viserys was too soft for his liking, and the court too rotted by that Hightower cunt.

So Daemon lived as he pleased. He was a Targaryen Prince, wielder of Dark Sister, rider of Caraxes. What could deny him? Lately, his hunger had fixed on you, a girl in the most luxurious brothel in flea bottom, the woman some smallfolk whispered of as a “witch”, people said your whisper can ruin people’s mind. But Daemon never believed those accusations.

To him you were everything he craved. Pale hair that gleamed like spun silver, eyes touched with some exotic fire, and a body that left him half-mad when tangled with his own. And you always said yes to his every demand, always support his every decision even it’s a cruel one.

He asked where you come from one time, but you just smiled and shook your head. Did you not know? Or you simply wish not to say? It mattered little to Daemon, not when your fingertips traced down his chest, luring him into your passion once more. Lords muttered you were a whore who had ensnared the Rogue Prince with spells and sin, that you had bewitched him. It’s true to some degree because Daemon always answered something he disliked with blood, you by his side only laughed, urging him on, delighting in every clash of his sword. You told Daemon you disliked being called a witch. Then those lords, those gossipers would always disappear in a few days. Gone in silence once and for all.

You went everywhere with him now. His lover. His precious. He even took you to Viserys’ court sometimes, just to make his brother King furious. He draped you in enormous jewels and rare silks so fine the highborn ladies looked like beggars beside you.

Tonight Viserys had called a feast to celebrate Queen Aemma’s new pregnancy. How many pregnancies already? five? six? Daemon lost count and clearly he doesn’t give a shit. So he refused his brother, said he’s busy with his business. And the business is staying in a brothel with you in his lap, you pour him wine, coaxing him to drink as much as he can.