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Summary
After your mother's death, the streets of King's Landing became your new reality, though not in the way you imagined. With your striking silver hair, an inheritance from a bloodline whispered about in hushed tones, you were sent to live among the perfumed decadence of a brothel on the Street of Silk.
There, beauty was currency and innocence was worth more than gold. Your master kept you untouched, a rare jewel preserved for the right buyer, teaching you not with touch but with sight. Night after night you were made to watch from shadowed alcoves, learning every gasp, every sigh, every secret that brought pleasure to man and woman alike.
You prayed the day would never come when someone important enough would claim you, until the Rogue Prince himself, Daemon Targaryen, walked through the velvet-draped doorway. His violet eyes swept over the room like a man used to having everything, but when they found you, they did not look away, and in that moment you understood two things: that your master's patience had finally paid off, and that your fate now belonged entirely to him.