First Meeting

Lord Tywin Lannister was looking at the detailed plans of the tunnel to the brothel. They had been completed yesterday.

"The builders?" he murmured to Lord Baelish who stood unobtrusively at his side.

"Dispatched as you requested, my lord," replied Lord Baelish.

Lord Tywin nodded once and stood up, walking absently over to a latticed window in the Tower of the Hand.

"A woman will be there tonight and every night this week, should you wish it, my lord. I've engaged the best in the city, certainly the most expensive and discreet," added Lord Baelish quietly, rolling up the plans and making a mental note about which brick to hide them behind in his office.

"How do you know she's the most discreet?" muttered Lord Tywin, mildly annoyed. Women and discretion seldom when hand in hand.

"I pride myself on my ability to find out information, my lord, and in the last five years that I've known of her, I've yet to find someone who knows her real name or where she hails from," explained Lord Baelish.

That appeared to satisfy the lion and he remained silent.

"I'll take my leave, if you've no other instructions, my lord," prompted Baelish, edging to the door.

"I don't think I need to remind you of the consequences if you should speak of this to anyone," said the lion in a low voice.

"I'm sure I wouldn't live long enough to regret betraying your trust, my Lord Hand," replied Baelish carefully.

"On the contrary," countered Lord Tywin Lannister, turning his sharp gaze on his councilman, "I'll make sure that you do."

Lord Baelish digested the threat, bowed respectfully and removed himself as quickly as he dared.

Lord Tywin stood outside the door to the chamber that had been built upon his request, at the end of the tunnel which he'd commissioned, and hesitated. He hated that he had this weakness but Joanna had been gone too long and Aerys was making his job more difficult than ever. He wanted to forget, even if it was only for half an hour.

Lord Tywin clenched his jaw and opened the door.

The room was large and tastefully furnished with deep woods and sumptuous fabrics. A fire crackled fiercely in a large stone hearth flanked by two large arm chairs. A large fur was spread before the fire and a wide, ornate bed sat opposite it. The pleasant aroma of incense teased the air.

The woman reclining comfortably in one of the chairs before the fire, a glass of wine halfway to her lips, paused when he entered, and then rose respectfully, setting the wine aside. The Lady stood with a perfectly straight back, shoulders squared, and yet still managed to look at ease. She wore a robe of deep purple with light gold detailing pulled closed at her narrow waist and beneath it, a gown of golden mesh. She wore no jewelry. Her thick brown hair fell in waves over her shoulders, framing her oval face and bringing out a purply blue in her wide eyes. The woman studied him for a moment, while he did the same to her and then she broke into a warm smile.

"Good evening, My Lord Hand," said the woman softly, watching him with a gaze that was almost too intelligent for his liking.

When he did not speak, she moved toward him.

"What is your name?" asked Lord Tywin pointedly, stopping her in her tracks.

"I am Lady, my lord but you may call me anything you wish provided I do not find it offensive," she replied, her welcoming smile never wavering.

Lord Tywin almost snorted at her presumption.

"If I called you a whore, would you find that offensive?" asked The Hand of the King dryly.

"If I called you a politician, would you find that offensive?" she countered easily.

Lord Tywin frowned. He wasn't used to sharp tongued women.

Lord Tywin glared at her but she did not flinch.

"The night is a little warm for cloaks, my lord. May I?" asked the Lady, trying to change the subject, as she finished her journey to him.

Very slowly, he untied his cloak and handed it to her.

"Wine?" she offered as she took it from him.

He nodded once, still studying her.

She surprised him by dipping into a curtsey before turning away from him. She draped his cloak over the back of one of the chairs by the fire and continued on to the wine decanter on a side table.

"Please, make yourself comfortable, my lord," she said gently, gesturing to the chairs by the fire.

Lord Tywin moved to stand before the fire but he did not sit down. This wasn't going as he had expected. Although, to be fair, he wasn't sure what he had been expecting.

She returned swiftly and handed him a cup of wine. He took a drink, approving the expensive vintage.

"What did Lord Baelish tell you?" asked Lord Tywin, more out of curiosity than a desire to make conversation.

"He persuaded me that it would be in my best interest to take you on as a client, my lord," she replied, taking a sip from her own glass, standing opposite him. The firelight glinted in her eyes.

"You needed persuading?" he asked, letting his eyes travel down her body for the first time.

She paused for a moment and then said quietly, "You place me in a very difficult position, my lord, and we haven't even begun yet."

He ignored the lewd comment and waited for an explanation.

"As a rule, I don't accept dangerous clients though in your case, I was uncertain whether the greatest danger lay in accepting you or refusing you," the Lady informed him, as she continued to look calculatingly at him.

"You consider me dangerous?" asked the Hand of the King, running an appraising eye over her again.

"You are Lord Tywin Lannister, and if that were not enough, you are also the Hand of the King. My Lord I know you to be dangerous," she answered, sipping some more wine.

He eyed the wetness on her lips and said nothing. He wasn't paying her for her conversation and yet, he was letting her talk.

"Given who you are, my lord, is there anything you forbid me from doing? I do not wish to displease you," she murmured, interrupting his thoughts.

There was another long pause before Lord Tywin heard himself say "You will not kiss me."

"On the mouth or anywhere?" asked the Lady, without being coy.

The lord's look darkened.

"On the mouth."

"As you wish," she replied, accepting his request without judgment. "While we are on the subject, you in turn, will not draw blood or leave bruises. There are plenty of other girls for that."

She paused a moment to see his reaction to her request.

"I'm not interested in hurting you," replied Lord Tywin.

"May that desire never change," she added, toasting him with her own glass of wine and taking another sip.

"Shall we do something you are interested in?" she asked, setting her wine aside.

Lord Tywin raised a golden eyebrow at her and set down his own glass.

She held out a thin purple cord attached to the side of her robe.

"Would you care to do with your hands what you've been doing with your eyes?" she suggested, looking up at him through her long lashes.

The bulge in his breeches became uncomfortable as he tugged at the cord she handed him and watched the purple robe whisper to the floor. The outline of her full breasts against the thin, yielding golden fabric made his blood race. Her skin was pale and flawless as far as he could see, appreciating the flare of her hips and shapely legs. He reached out to touch her but she spun around unexpectedly. She glanced over her shoulder with parted lips and started sliding the golden straps from her shoulders. Lord Tywin grabbed the fabric from her fingers and yanked it down to her hips, letting it drop to the floor. She caught her breath at her sudden exposure in a way that made him ache.

He wrapped his hands around her hips, his breathing coming quicker. As his fingers found a jagged scar on her hip, she spun around in his hands and pressed her body against him before he could say anything.

"You are wearing far too much clothing," she breathed, her cheeks flushed as he gripped her rounded bottom.

In the blink of an eye, she had his tunic open and was working on his belt. He slid his hands and cupped her breasts, enjoying her gasp and the sudden fluttering of her eyes. She leaned into him again with a hooded gaze, her hands rubbing against his length through his laces.

She tugged on the strings of his and led him in the direction of the bed, slightly out of reach of his hands. Lord Tywin opened his belt as he walked and dropped his tunic to the ground.

When they reached the bed, she sat down and leaned in to completely undo his laces but he stopped her with a growl. The lion had had enough. He reached out and grabbed one of her arms, pulling her toward him, off the bed. Before she could get her bearings, he spun her around and bent her down over the bed, her hair flying about her face as put a hand on her back and pushed her into the covers. Lord Tywin tore open his laces as she spread her legs, arching her back and presenting herself to be taken. She cried out into the bedding as he slammed himself into her with a grunt, his fingers digging into her hips. For the first time, in a long time, the Hand's mind went blissfully blank as he focused on the hot grip of her body as he thrust into her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he appreciated that she wasn't faking screams of pleasure for his benefit. Her panting gasps and occasional cries were all the encouragement he needed, if he needed any.

To his chagrin, he didn't last as long as he wanted, releasing inside of her with a loud groan as he pushed into her one final time. He bent over her, bracing his arms on either side of her as he caught his breath. There was a delicate flush beneath her skin and her mouth was open as she watched him hazily over her shoulder. She made a soft sound, almost of disappointment, as he slid out of her.

Mechanically, he bent down and pulled up his breeches, tucking his shirt in. Putting everything back in place.

"There's water and soap behind the screen if you wish, my lord," she whispered softly, turning around on the bed and sitting up beside him.

"No," was all he said.

Lord Tywin moved to get his tunic, allowing her a discreet moment to wipe his seed from the inside of her thighs. She walked past him and gathered up his cloak.

"You won't stay?" the lady asked softly, holding his cloak against her breasts.

The Hand finished closing the fastenings on his tunic and moved to stand before her. She seemed hurt that he was leaving so soon and a part of him wanted to stay, wanted to believe that she liked his company.

But that was what he was paying her for: to pretend to want him. Not for the first time, he thrust away his loneliness, which ironically, had become nearly a constant companion since his wife's death.

Lord Tywin took his cloak back more roughly than he intended and swept it around his shoulders.

"Lord Baelish has arranged your payment?" he asked coldly.

If the Lady was taken aback, she hid it.

"Yes," she replied.

Lord Tywin's hand was on the door when he heard her ask, "Will I see you again, my lord?"

He looked back at her, standing there naked, the firelight playing over her skin. Her hands were folded demurely over her stomach even though she was completely exposed. She was beautiful but she didn't belong to him, at least, not beyond the time he had paid for.

Tywin Lannister closed the door behind him without replying to her question and strode resolutely back down the tunnel to the Red Keep to his duty, his responsibilities and away from distractions.