xi. ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟ sᴇɴᴛɪᴍᴇɴᴛs

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Mᴜᴛᴜᴀʟ Sᴇɴᴛɪᴍᴇɴᴛs

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Nine years ago...

THE YOUNG PRINCESS, at just the age of ten, felt overwhelmed by the attention she was now being given. Less than an hour ago, she had been a bastard, picked on by the other children in her village for her silver hair and purple eyes. Now, she had been given a bath by two complete strangers, who then were replaced by two more, tasked with helping her dress into a red and black dress, all while referring to her as 'princess'. Her hair had been brushed, her scalp tender from where they pulled free the tangles, left to hang over her shoulders. The last maid now gone, the young girl let herself cry. She missed her small house in Winterfell, her clothes that her mother had sown. She even missed the cold. But most of all, she missed her mother. The bastard princess closed her eyes as the tears flowed freely, picturing her mother's face.

Brielle Snow had been the definition of beauty; silky smooth skin that never blemished, large chocolate eyes, and hair as black as the night. It was a great mystery how her daughter hadn't inherited any of these features. Some even wondered if the silver haired girl actually belonged to her. But those who actually took the time to inspect the child and her mother, soon realized that she was in fact her mother. They shared the same slender nose, long dark lashes and alluring smile. It she had followed in her mothers footsteps, she too would have been the most desired prostitute.

When Brielle Snow was all but two and ten, her Lord father had passed, forcing his favorite mistress and her daughter from his keep. Only months later, that same mistress took her own life, claiming she could no longer live without the man she loved, her daughter not being enough for her to stay. Brielle, now alone in this world, wandered the streets of her village, eventually being found by a small group of women. These women took the orphan in, taking her along with them to King's Landing, where she would find herself being adored by older men, who were willing to pay a pretty penny to have the girl's plump lips around their cock.

For years she pleasured men in the streets of silk, quickly becoming the most sought after whore. Men would come from every part of Westeros to get a chance to experience Snow White's Kiss, as they had called it. They claimed just one night with the whore could change a man's life.

That's what brought the Prince Daemon Targaryen to her room that faithful night. The way his hands traced every curve, nails scrapping down her spine, had Brielle seeing stars. Never had she experienced a man quite like the prince and the way he ravished her body. He had spent the entire night with her, the two tangled together in the sheets. Weeks later, she was reminded of that night as she emptied the contents of her stomach on a customer.

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