King's Landing, The Red Keep - 125 AC

King's Landing bustled with activity as lords and ladies from every corner of Westeros converged on the city. For me and my girls, it was prime hunting ground. Amidst the grandeur and spectacle of courtly affairs, secrets were ripe for the plucking. You see, while the lords and ladies strut about, their servants are the true keepers of the castle's secrets. They see and hear all. Many of these highborn fools fail to recognize the power that lies within their own staff. But not I.

House Targaryen's secrets are well-guarded in the Stepstones, as are those of House Velaryon in Driftmark. However, I know everything that happens behind the walls of House Targaryen of King's Landing and House Velaryon of the Grey Gallows. In the shadows, my network thrives. There's not a whisper or rumor that escapes my notice, for I know the value of information in this game of thrones.

The royal court was never my place, never where I belonged. I'm just a courtesan, trying to navigate a world that sees people like me as disposable. But then Prince Daemon noticed me. It was a dangerous game, but I couldn't deny the thrill of his attention. Yet, I knew better than to think it was anything more than a passing fancy for him. He spoke of giving our child a dragon egg, but I wasn't naive enough to believe he truly cared about me or any potential offspring. In Westeros, bastards face a harsh reality, and I refused to subject a child of mine to that fate.

While Prince Daemon's gaze lingered on me, I played along but kept my heart locked, wary of the dangers that lurked beneath his charming facade. In a world where power and ambition reign supreme, survival is my only goal, and I'll do whatever it takes to ensure my own safety. So, it came to no surprise when Prince Daemon left me in Lys. Men like him come and go, leaving behind only the remnants of their fleeting desires. But I wasn't about to let his absence define me. With the coin he left behind and the knowledge I gleaned from our time together, I forged my path forward.

I became known as the White Worm, a shadowy figure lurking in the depths of the underworld. My network of spies stretched far and wide, surpassing anything the lords and ladies of Westeros could imagine. From the alleys of King's Landing to the distant corners of Essos, my informants whispered secrets into my waiting ears. With each passing day, I tightened my grip on the royal court. They thought themselves clever, but they were mere pawns in my game.

With time my costumers rose in power and prestige, until an interesting figure became one of patrons. Otto Hightower was a curious creature. Despite his outward display of power and authority, he was like a puppet dancing on my strings. His reliance on me for information was almost comical, considering his previous lofty position in the royal court. But men like Otto are blinded by their own arrogance, believing themselves to be untouchable.

His letters to me dripped with venomous words, railing against the idea of female inheritance and denigrating Princess Rhaenyra as nothing more than a whore. Otto's feeble attempts to manipulate me were nothing short of comical. He painted himself as a champion of Westeros, advocating for Aegon Targaryen to ascend the throne. It was all so predictable, so painfully transparent. As I read his words, a sense of amusement washed over me. He thought he could outsmart me, but little did he know, I held all the cards in this game. Here was a man who believed himself to be in control, yet he was nothing more than a pawn in my game. His grand scheme to sway Prince Aegon's favor was doomed from the start. For I knew Aegon better than Otto ever could.

Aegon was a frequent visitor to my establishment, indulging in the pleasures of the flesh with abandon. He reveled in the company of whores, partaking in pleasures that would make even the most seasoned courtier blush. In truth, Aegon had likely bedded more companions than Princess Rhaenyra herself. But in the eyes of men like Otto, such behavior was not only acceptable but expected for male heirs. The hypocrisy of it all was almost laughable. Though, the Green did have one point, Aegon had no bastards compared to Rhaenyra. I had made sure of that. Aegon only came to my establishment, as I possessed the best whores in the Street of Silk, and after every time one of them laid with the prince I poured moon tea down their throats. The last thing we want in this delicate political situation was for dragon seeds to roam the streets of King's Landing.

So, I fed Otto morsels of information, carefully selecting morsels that would serve no purpose to the Greens' cause. And for this paltry offering, he paid a hefty price. But he had little choice in the matter. With Larys gone, he had no other source of intelligence to turn to, leaving him at my mercy. I hold no appreciation for the Green and my fondness for the Blacks does not come because of their figure head. In my eyes, Rhaenyra Targaryen was nothing more than Prince Daemon's spoiled princess. Despite his marriage to Laena Velaryon, Daemon's gaze always lingered on Rhaenyra whenever he graced King's Landing with his presence. It was evident to me that Rhaenyra held a sway over Daemon that few could match. But such matters held little importance to me. I cared not for the intricacies of their tangled affairs.

In my eyes, neither Rhaenyra nor Aegon were suitable heirs to the Iron Throne. They were but pawns in a greater game, mere children playing at rulership in a realm fraught with danger and deceit. Rhaenyra's immaturity and self-indulgence were evident to all who cared to see. She lacked the wisdom and temperance required to rule the Seven Kingdoms. And as for Aegon, he was little more than a pawn in the machinations of those who sought power for their own gain.

I was firmly on Team Black, not out of any loyalty to Rhaenyra, but because of Lucerys Velaryon. I was not deceived by her games, beneath her sweet facade lay a mind as sharp as Valyrian steel, and it was clear to me that Lucerys held the true power behind the Black faction.

Lucerys had both factions dancing to her tune, manipulating the game board to ensure that the Stormlands and Riverlands joined the Blacks. Her influence extended far beyond the walls of King's Landing, with initiatives such as learning institutes and free health centers springing up across the realm. The Crownlands, the Narrow Seas, and even the North were feeling the impact of Lucerys' vision, and it was only a matter of time before other regions followed suit. The Vale and the Stormlands would be next to fall under her sway, I was certain of it.

In Lucerys, I saw a future that I could embrace—a future where the plight of the smallfolk was not ignored, where education and healthcare were available to all. It was a vision that resonated with me, and it was why I threw my support behind Rhaenyra's bid for the Iron Throne. After all, Lucerys Velaryon, in my eyes, was the epitome of what a ruler should be—wise, compassionate, and with a keen understanding of the needs of her people. In my eyes, she was the perfect heir to the Iron Throne, far more suited for the crown than any other Targaryen alive.

Yet, as much as I admired Lucerys, I couldn't ignore the unpredictable nature of those with Targaryen blood coursing through their veins. My time with Daemon had taught me that the dragons were as fickle as the wind, capable of both great wisdom and unfathomable madness. While part of me longed to see Lucerys take her rightful place as queen, I hesitated to take any action that might disrupt the delicate balance of her temperament. If I were to remove Jacaerys from the picture, it could send Lucerys spiraling into a darkness from which she might never recover.

For now, I would bide my time, watching from the shadows and lending my support where it was needed. Who knows what the future might hold? Perhaps fate would intervene, and Jacaerys would meet his end through natural means.

Until then, I will make sure Lucerys Velaryon's virtues are sung far and wide, as they deserved. I made it my mission to ensure that her deeds were recognized and celebrated throughout the realm. I spread word of her efforts to establish learning institutes and free healing centers, ensuring that even the common folk would benefit from her benevolent plans. I had my girls whisper in the ears of lords and ladies, sowing the seeds of admiration for Lucerys and her tireless dedication to the welfare of her people. I encouraged bards to compose songs extolling her virtues, painting her as the Pearl of Driftmark, a beacon of intelligence, cunning, and empathy in a world too often marred by greed and cruelty.

With every rumor I planted and every tale I spun, I sought to elevate Lucerys to the status she rightfully deserved—a leader beloved by all, whose wisdom and compassion knew no bounds. And though my ultimate goal remained unchanged, I took solace in the knowledge that, for now, I could play a small part in ensuring that Lucerys's light shone brightly for all to see.

And see I did. The lords and ladies have come far across Westeros for the wedding of Prince Aegon and Lady Cassandra, yet all the lords and ladies could talk about were the tales of Lucerys Velaryon's virtues, words that were carried by the gentle breeze from one mouth to the next.

"Have you heard?" one nobleman murmured, leaning in close to his companion. "The Pearl of Driftmark has launched a new initiative to provide education and healthcare to the common folk. Truly commendable."

"Aye," his companion replied, nodding in agreement. "I hear she's been working tirelessly to improve the lives of the smallfolk across the realm. It's no wonder they call her the Pearl."

And so the whispers grew, spreading like wildfire as word of Lucerys' deeds reached every corner of the Red Keep. The lords and ladies exchanged knowing glances, their voices hushed with respect and admiration for the young Velaryon heiress.

"She's a true leader," one lady remarked, her eyes alight with admiration. "To think that she's done so much for the people already, and she's not even come of age."

"Indeed," another lord chimed in, his tone filled with reverence. "It's clear that she has a bright future ahead of her. With leaders like her, the future of the realm is in good hands."

As the whispers of praise for Lucerys Velaryon echoed among the lords and ladies of the court, another layer of rumor began to weave its way through the crowd—this time, from the common folk who had gathered outside the castle walls.

"Did you hear?" a washerwoman exclaimed, her voice carrying through the bustling streets of King's Landing. "They say the Pearl of Driftmark is the Maiden reborn, sent by the Seven themselves to bring light and hope to the realm!"

"Aye," a fishmonger agreed, nodding fervently. "I've heard the same. They say she possesses the grace and beauty of the Maiden, and that her kindness knows no bounds."

The whispers spread like wildfire through the city, from market stalls to taverns, from dockyards to alleyways. Everywhere I turned, I could hear the common folk singing Lucerys' praises, their voices filled with awe and reverence for the young Velaryon heiress.

"She's a miracle, she is," a stable boy murmured, his eyes wide with wonder. "To think that someone like her walks among us—it's enough to make you believe in miracles."

And as the whispers of the common folk mingled with those of the nobility, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that Lucerys' influence extended far beyond the walls of the Red Keep. She was not just a leader to the lords and ladies of the court, but a beacon of hope to the small folk—a symbol of faith and inspiration in a city often plagued by darkness and despair.

Later that day, when the sun set and sin reigned in the streets, I smirked as I heard the first song, I had composed in Lucerys' honor by a bard being sung in her establishment. All while Aegon and his companions joined him in a night of debauchery before his wedding in the upcoming days. I watched Aegon revel in the pleasures of the night, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of amusement wash over me. Here he was, indulging in the carnal delights of my establishment with an abandon that bespoke of a man eager to sample all that life had to offer. And yet, beneath the surface, I could sense a shift in him, a subtle change in his demeanor that hinted at a newfound sense of responsibility.

It was clear that Aegon was preparing himself for the duties of marriage, for the vows he would soon take with Cassandra Baratheon. But whether he could truly remain faithful to her remained to be seen. After all, Aegon was a Targaryen, and their desires were known to burn bright and fierce, like the flames of a dragon's breath. Yet, there was a curious paradox in the Targaryen bloodline, a streak of loyalty that ran deep despite the tumultuous passions that often consumed them. I had seen it firsthand in the unwavering desire between Daemon and Rhaenyra, and yet they remain faithful to their wife and lover.

So, as I watched Aegon lose himself in the pleasures of the flesh, I couldn't help but wonder if he too possessed that same capacity for loyalty. Only time would tell, but for now, I would continue to observe and wait, for in the game of thrones, patience was often the key to victory.