The Hand and The Lady Part 3

"How did you get this scar?" asked Lord Tywin after he caught his breath. He was lying on his side next to the Lady who was facing him, also trying to slow her breathing after his vigorous lovemaking. Lord Tywin's hand was clamped possessively over her hip, covering the mark in question.

"Is it bothering you?" she asked with a smile.

"A mistake?" pressed Tywin, ignoring her mirth.

The Lady sighed and touched a few of the scars on the old lion's chest.

"You remember my rule about dangerous clients?" she replied, glancing up at him from under her lashes.

"MmmHmm."

"That scar is the reason for the rule."

"That doesn't really answer my question," Lord Tywin pointed out.

"I keep forgetting that you're a politician and are as adept at misdirection and lying as I am," she retorted, leaning in to kiss the wiry patch of golden hair over his heart.

"Will you tell me how you got all of yours?" she asked before he could speak.

"They are all from battles, not very interesting," Lord Tywin grumbled shifting his hand to the small of her back and sliding her closer to him.

The Lady tensed slightly. She was starting to believe that he meant it when he said he had no interest in hurting her but still, she remembered the feel of his hands on her throat several visits ago and lifetime of caution could not be undone in a week. She slid her arm under his and let it rest against his back.

Lord Tywin sighed.

"They are all from battles except for this one," he corrected himself, removing his hand from her back and letting her see the gash across his forearm.

"Oh? And what is this from?" she asked, moving her hand from his back and clasping his wrist gently.

Tywin paused before he spoke.

"Jaime."

The Lady frowned in confusion.

"Your son?" she whispered, not understanding.

"He was seven and it was the first time I allowed him to handle live steel. I didn't think he would swing at me with it but he did. It was my arm or my stomach," said Lord Tywin, remembering his anger and his son's terror at what he had done.

"I'm sure he was sorry," she offered, gently running a finger tip along its length.

"He was, and afterwards, I was sorry for yelling at him. He didn't come near me for a week," recounted Tywin ruefully.

"But he learned that they were dangerous," reasoned the Lady.

Lord Tywin nodded against the bedding.

They lay in silence for a time, Lord Tywin still looking at her, waiting for an answer.

"You won't leave until I tell you about my scar will you?" she asked with a smile.

"You survived it and dismiss it in conversation. Whatever memories you have associated with it, you've made peace with as much as you can," read Lord Tywin.

"I have made peace with it although I'd prefer to leave it in the past," requested the Lady, shifting slightly.

"Tell me," said Lord Tywin.

"And what makes you think I'll tell you the truth?" she quipped, raising her eyebrow.

"Most people who lie to me don't do it for very long," said the Lord of Casterly Rock and the Hand of the King.

The Lady sighed and looked away from him.

"He was my first client. I should have been more careful about choosing but I hadn't eaten for two days. He took what he wanted and then pulled a dagger. My screams saved my life and I bought my first loaf of bread after tending to my wound," she recounted quietly.

Lord Tywin listened and was about to speak when she continued.

"He was my father. A drunken brute who finally decided that he didn't want my mother around anymore. I got this scar trying to save her. I failed," she finished in a whisper.

Now Lord Tywin was frowning.

"When I was young, a boy I liked pushed me and I fell hard on a jagged rock. He was beaten and this scar has grown with me."

"Stop," demanded Lord Tywin in consternation.

"I am doing what you wished, my lord. I have told you the truth," promised the Lady innocently.

"You think you're clever," Lord Tywin said, raising his own golden eyebrow.

The Lady smiled at him and leaned in so her chest brushed against his. She made as if to kiss him but stopped several inches short, enjoying the sound of his breath catching in his throat and his furtive glances at her mouth.

"I know I'm clever," she breathed, watching the candlelight glint off the golden flecks in his green eyes.

She slipped off the bed and poured a glass of wine which she brought back to the bed after taking a sip. The Lady handed him the glass and let him drink a mouthful before taking the glass back.

Without warning, she tipped the glass over his chest and let some spill on him.

The lion jerked in surprise and looked at her with a frown.

"What are you doing?" he growled.

He moved to wipe away some of the wine with his hand but she caught it and put it back on the bed.

"Distracting you," she smiled, leaning down over him. Slowly, she licked the wine from his chest.

He stopped protesting and lay back against the bedding but kept his eyes on her. She was learning to read his breathing and he was definitely enjoying her mouth traveling all over his chest though there was still the hint of a frown darkening his brow. When the Lady had cleaned him off, she sat back up and picked up the cup again.

"Your turn," she entreated huskily, as she arched her back and let some wine trickle down between her breasts and pool in her lap.

Her cheeks flushed and her heart started to race as she watched his expression change from enjoyment to hunger. In a smooth movement, that surprised her in its quickness, he pinned her on her back and then his mouth went everywhere. His tongue found the wine and plenty of other places that the wine hadn't been. She wondered hazily if he was actually going to make it to her mouth but he stopped at her neck, nuzzling the hollow of her throat. The Lady wasn't surprised when he pushed into her again but he had never taken her on her back before. She had always been facing away from him. Tywin groaned as she lifted her hips up to meet his thrusts, her fingernails raking down his back. The Lady opened her mouth in an 'O' of pleasure as he shifted again, grabbing the sheets past her head with one hand and tangling his other in her hair. His broad chest and throat filled her field of vision as he panted near her the top of her head.

Instead of gasping, she began to murmur his name at each thrust.

"Tywin…Tywin… TYWIN!" she cried out as she peaked for the first time in a long time with a client. She made an effort to make it seem like the others she had had for him but she needn't have been careful. The Lion was off in his own world, burrowing for comfort at her core. He let out a strangled shout into the bedding as she felt him seize. As if her own consummation wasn't surprise enough, when he finished, he rolled his torso off of her, so his weight didn't cause her any discomfort and rested his head against her chest, fingers still clinging to her hair. Lord Tywin lay on her, as his breathing slowed, listening to the fading thunder of her own heartbeat. The Lady curled an arm around his back and threaded the fingers of her other hand through his golden hair, murmuring softly to him.

She heard him murmur something back that sounded like a question although it was lost in her flesh.

"My Lord?" she asked softly, pausing in her fingers in his hair.

"Your name," he repeated, pushing himself up on his elbow to look down at her.

She smiled indulgently.

"You already know it," she reminded him.

"You used mine without a title," said Lord Tywin.

"I thought you would like it," the Lady replied, smiling warmly up at him.

The Lion clenched his jaw. Of course he had liked it, that wasn't the point.

"I want to be able to say your name," he tried again.

Her smile turned a little wicked and without warning, she pushed against the center of his elbow, putting him off balance and rolling him onto his back. Her hair hung down like a curtain next to them and she looked down at him seriously.

"I want a great many things too; things I'll never have. My name is the only thing I've ever truly had to myself: My one possession. I give much when asked but even I have my limits, my lord. As do you," she said softly, watching him carefully for any signs of anger.

The Lord of Casterly Rock listened and showed nothing on his face.

"When you can have anything you want at the snap of your fingers, it might be healthy for you to realize there are some things that cannot be bought."

Then his eyes darkened though not with anger, with pain.

He moved her off of him and sat up, looking away from her.

"If I truly could have anything I wanted at the snap of my fingers, I wouldn't need you."

The Lady opened her mouth to say something but the gnawing ache in his voice made all the words she could think of seem meaningless.

He began to get dressed, not looking at her anymore. She slid off the bed and slipped on her robe. She held out his crimson tunic which he put on, again without looking at her. Only when she bent to help him on with his boots, did he look at her though she didn't see it. The Lady finished the laces and stood up, looking down at him. The Lion was hunched over, his hands resting on his knees. Without thinking, she bent down and gently kissed the top of his head, letting her hand rest against his scruffy cheek for a brief moment. Then she stood up and away from him, watching him unfold and rise to his full height before her. He met her eyes then and she held his gaze until he looked away and walked out without another word.