The hulking form of Sandor Clegane stood out like a sore thumb in the crowd of the dark nightclub. Sweaty bodies indiscriminately bumped into him, occasionally forcing a grunt from his lips. When the hapless passersby finally looked up into the rigid face of the man they walked into, they hastily looked away, and cautiously retreated to literally anywhere other than the presence of the man shooting daggers at them with his eyes.
Sandor crossed his arms imposingly, stretching the black T-shirt, which read 'SECURITY' in big, bold letters. He stood in the throes of the drunken nightlife of King's Landing's finest establishment: The Bloody Bastard. Not the most eloquent of names, but it suited the taste of the night club's owner.
Margaery winked at Sandor as she passed by him. He nodded at her, and watched as she strolled to the back of the club. Margie was one of the dancers working tonight. She had been working there for only a few months, but already had a loyal fanbase in King's Landing. When she had a shift, the place was sure to be packed to the brim. 'Great…..', Sandor thought to himself. 'Another shit night of kicking drunken fools out on their arses.' He cracked his knuckles, mentally preparing for the stiffness in his hands that usually follows working as security.
"Hey Sandy!", a voice called to him from down below. Sandor immediately knew who the voice belonged to when he had to crane his neck down to look so far below him. "Imp", he replied unenthusiastically. Tyrion was a regular at the Bloody Bastard. When he was drunk, and it was quite often, he told Sandor the reason he frequented so much was because it was the only place a person like him could blend in with the crowd. Every man alive came in to the night club at some point to get shitfaced, and ogle their 'performers'. The old, the young, and even the ugly. Sandor didn't know what he was talking about though because it seemed like a perfect place for him to just get stepped on, considering the sheer volume of people. But Tyrion cheerfully greeted him as usual, and dove between dancing legs, up to his 'spot' in the corner. He seemed particularly sprightly tonight, which meant Shae was performing a set apparently.
The lights dimmed, if that was even possible, and the LED stage lights turned on as Peter Baelish stepped up to the front with the microphone. 'Here we go', thought Sandor with mixed emotions. The start of the show meant more work for him, watching perverts trying to cop a feel. But then again….it meant he got a free peep show. He might be working security, but he was still a man. "Can't beat bouncing tits n' ass am I right?", Theon Greyjoy tried joking with him as he came through the door, and got a stoic glare for his efforts.
"Alright everyone! Now the moment you have all been waiting for…But first! We've gotta go over the rules." The crowd collectively groan and yell out boos. "Now, now. The rules are what keep this place in business. There will be no recording of tonight's showing, so put your phones away. Also, and this is the big one. There will be no touching on any of the performers….unless they say otherwise." And here is where Peter gives a creepy wink to the crowd. Sandor resists the urge to throw something at him. "And please, these are working girls who aim to provide satisfaction. So, be sure to give a tip when you like what they're doing." He flashes a salacious grin to the audience. "Without further ado, everyone, please put your hands together for Miss Daenerys, Mother…of….Dragoooons!"
Daenerys steps out wearing a gown of fire, with two bearded dragons on either side of her shoulders. She's got a powerful, dominatrix vibe as she gazes down at the males with eyes that say 'worship me'. She presents the bearded lizards as her precious babies, and sets them down safely in their cages. The music selection for her is always sensual, and compelling. She brings out a riding crop, and slaps it in her hands for effect. The crowd oohs, and catcalls for her to whip them. She gives a smile as if to say, 'only if you've been good', like a mother rewarding her children.
Sandor scans the crowd, and walks over to the bar for a different viewpoint. Cersei, the supervisor for tonight, is filling drinks, and occasionally, taking a swig from a bottle. She could drink any man worth his salt under the table without even slurring a syllable. "Damn it you insufferable oaf!", Cersei hisses as she cracks the dish rag from over her shoulder to quickly clean up the mess made by the new hire. "You serve the drinks! Not slosh them all over the place!" Podrick nodded meekly, and gave a quick, "Yes ma'am!". He sincerely apologized to the guests waiting at the bar, and brought them fresh drinks.
"The lad's a little green behind the ears to be working the bar on a Friday night.", Sandor spoke loudly enough for Cersei to hear over the din. She looked up, a sour expression upon her face as per usual, and replied, "It's as good a night as any for him to get his feet wet. I'm not going to be working the bar for quite a while now that Jaime and I are going away on our honeymoon." She poured out five shots in a row, and deftly slid them down to the other side of the table without spilling a drop.
"Is he even of age to be back here?", Sandor asked skeptically. Cersei sort of stopped, gave Podrick a once over, and he blushed at her scrutiny. Podrick said bashfully, "I'm actually 22. Just had my birthday last month." Cersei went back to filling drinks like usual, and said, "You see? He's old enough…even if he is clumsier than my ex-husband." Podrick's ears turned bright red as he tried his best to not be embarrassed, and failed.
Sandor rolled his eyes, and walked away. It was good to patrol the room a bit. Check the dark corners for shady characters. He heard the crowd cheering, and looked over to see Daenerys with a huge handful of bills in her g-string. She had flown her top off into the crowd at one point, and the lucky man frantically waved it in the air with glee. Once her set was over she cooed to her pet dragons, and picked them up as she waltzed off the stage.
Peter crept back onto the stage with what he must have thought was….flair? Grabbing the mic he said, "Wooow! What a show! The Mother of Dragons can mother me any time." He waggled his eyebrows for effect. Some of the extremely drunk patrons let out hoots and 'hell yeahs' in response. "All riiiight, moving on with the show! Next up is the lovely Viking Vixen, Ygritte!"
Sandor watched with interest as Ygritte, one of the girls with some of the most athletic ability, strode onto the stage in complete slutty Viking ensemble. She flexed her arms, and struck a few poses for effect. He would have to say that while, physically totally Sandor's type, she was a bit too tomboyish at times. When it was after hours, and the drunks all go home she talks endlessly of going hunting in the woods, and competing in archery competitions. These slobs drooling over her arse probably have no idea that she could flip them over onto their backside probably before they even got a whiff of her perfume.
Ygritte saucily swayed her hips to the beat of the music, slowly removing her clothing, piece by piece. Every once in a while, she would come to the edge of the stage and taunt a member of the audience, usually the one with the most dollar bills, with a peak of something no one else could see. Then she would wink at the man, and walk off with catcalls and groans from the rest of the men who were jealous for her attention. Ygritte was a natural flirt, and in no time was down to just her strips of underwear, and her fur covered stiletto boots. She grabbed her Viking horn, and blew into it victoriously. But then she glanced out towards the crowd and licked the tip of the horn lewdly. The noise level in the room soared as she wrapped her light pink lips around the end of the horn and instead of blowing it, sucked lasciviously.
Sandor stepped up when he saw a man reach out to try and slide a greasy hand up her ankle. He forcefully bouldered his way in front of the guy, and glared. The much shorter man, though very drunk and clearly not able to make good choices, sobered up enough to apologize and back up. With his point made, Sandor drifted away, pushing through the sweaty bodies, and getting his feet stepped on for good measure.
The night passed in a similar fashion as usual, Shae came up to the stage and Tyrion drunkenly applauded her with every dollar bill in his pocket. A few other girls, Osha and Missandei, danced together sensually, if somewhat apathetically. Sandor looked across the room to the other security guard posted by the door. He knew that Grey Worm had a thing for Missandei, and he had a hard time watching her performances at work. Sandor just rolled his eyes. The lad was a fool for falling for a stripper. If he was going to get jealous then he shouldn't have started it in the first place. It was a cliché. To want what you can't have. And he just didn't get it. 'Plenty of other pretty girls to fancy…' Sandor thought to himself.
As the thought passed through his head he saw a girl, a woman? She was standing off to the side of the stage, beside the door that leads to the dressing rooms. The first thing he noticed was the shock of flame colored hair that stood out in the dim lighting. As he got closer he could see that she was arguing with a taller, raven haired man. 'Ygritte's boyfriend…what was his name? Snow?', Sandor thought the lad was familiar but he couldn't remember his name.
"Jon! Stop it! You're hurting my me!", the red-headed girl shouted at Jon Snow. He let go of her arm, but didn't lessen the stormy look on his brow. "You're my sister…Can you really blame me for opposing this?", he said heatedly. The girl crinkled her brows, and replied, "But Ygritte is a stripper, and you still love her. Would it really be so different with me?"
'Ah', thought Sandor. 'She's joining the crew…and the brother doesn't want his sister getting in the way of his fun time with his girlfriend at a strip club'. Sandor laughed quietly to himself. He never got to know Jon Snow too well, but there was something about this interaction, and seeing his discomfort tickled Sandor's funny bone.
Jon practically fumed at his sister. "Sansa…I do not approve of where Ygritte works. But I do still love her….as I will still love you. But this…..is this really what you want? You're still so young…You only just turned eighteen." Sansa's eyes softened at this, and she lifted her hand to grasp his own. "Jon…thank you. I know you can't understand…but after everything with mum, and dad…plus that debt we owe to the Lannisters…it's the only thing I can do to help save our family."
Jon balked at this. "Sansa no! You're turning yourself over to the Lannisters' strip club to repay our family debt?"
Sandor couldn't believe his ears. Was this girl crazy? It was famously known that the Lannister gang always collected their debts one way or another. Sometimes threats were made, teeth punched in, and occasionally….people would go missing. But this was new. Either this girl was just stupid…or incredibly self-sacrificing.
Jon pleaded with her. "Rob, and I told you that we'd figure something out Sansa…You shouldn't have to suffer this way for our parents' mistakes." Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, and she shook her head to dispel them. "It's our family Jon. It's not just up to you. And like you said, I'm eighteen now. I can make my own choices."
Margaery poked her head out of the door at that moment. "Oh! Sansa! You're here. Good. I'll show you round the back." She smiled at the younger girl, and swiftly broke the tension between the siblings as she grabbed Sansa's hand and dragged her to the dressing rooms. Sansa looked over her shoulder one last time, throwing Jon a pointed glance as if to say, 'this is how it is'.