“No, it isn’t true my prince-”

The words of confirmation, an assurance that aegon did not commit a heinous act against dyana when she were a servant in the red keep trying to serve aegon wine but the shakiness in her tone, darting eyes and overall uncomfortable posture at being questioned of such a thing by a targ____ prince and the brother of the usurper king aegon was a telling story that spoke differently from the tavern lady’s claims as her pale hands once damaged by the dirty servants quarters now stained with red dots of split wine from drunkards she has to endure alongside dirt underneath her short fingernails gained from having to rid of old spew and sometimes even other bodily fluids she wishes she never realised were in those piles– but shaking her own self humiliation and fear of aegon off her knotted shoulders she quietly lifts her gaze to meet yours an intense feeling of ineffable clawing at her heart the want to scream what aegon did at the top of her lungs and fall into safe arms is one thing she may never get in this life time nor any other lifetime to come

“My prince, i must return-” Dyana begins shifting backward with a few steps holding back her suppressed emotions of hatred, anger, humiliation, pain, betrayal and above all fear of the royal family more specifically the ones who protected aegon’s name although it is not like any noble would truly care what happens to a mere commoner such as herself but for it to be known so future maids could be weary would bring her some form of solace in the storm of turmoil alicent payed off with mere coins and moon tea to ensure a bastard would not be born from the assault