THE DARK LADY

Chataya lay still on the bed, and listened to the man beside her breathe, taking care to remain silent. He did not like pillow talk, this man, something he'd made clear the first time they'd coupled, many years ago now. Already an expert at the arts of love, she'd demonstrated that by doing exactly as he desired, even in this. And perhaps this was why she had remained so long, when so many of his others had been discarded, after a year, a month, a single night. And why she held a small portion of his trust, when the others had not.

"You may wish to consider selling this place, in the near future," he said casually.

Chataya blinked, and turned. This was a rare occurrence, and a signal to say something, for while he did not as a rule like conversation, when he initiated it, he expected responses. "Indeed? And why is that, my Lord Hand?"

Tywin Lannister regarded her with his gold-flecked green eyes. "My goodson is apparently possessed of the notion that he is Daeron the Young Dragon and Baelor the Blessed combined in one man. And so I must not only listen to him tell me how to fight a war, I must listen to him discuss plans to expel whores from King's Landing." He gave a rumbling snarl, and shook his head.

"Young men are often impetuous," she said, "and prone to see simplicity when they should see... complexity."

"I know this," snapped Tywin. "Must you parrot what is obvious to all?"

"I merely seek to comfort you, my lord," said Chataya quietly. "And to remind you that others are doubtless aware of your wisdom and experience, and how they may aid in correcting the king in his... youthful enthusiasm."

Tywin snorted at that. "Enthusiasm? No, not a word for young Stannis. He does not have whims and enthusiasms, this boy, he has dictums and opinions that have been set in stone." He shook his head. "Lord Arryn and I have managed to get him to hold off on closing the brothels till after the war, but he seems utterly taken with the idea. He even rejected a compromise I put forth to..." He sighed and rolled his head. "That is immaterial, now. I recommend you sell this place."

Chataya nodded. In her long dealings with Lord Tywin, she was used to such orders, given suddenly and loftily, with no thought as to her opinions or present circumstances. Indeed, she had half expected he would come bearing one along with himself through the secret passage, after she had received the coin that she had not had gotten for over three years now, the coin with a golden hand on it, the coin she had been expecting since the streets had run red with blood and Lannister cloaks.

Her mind flashed briefly on the last time she had gotten the coin, when the news of young Ser Jaime joining the Kingsguard circulated the streets. That time he had been silent and brutal, as she had been expecting, as he so often was. Lord Tywin Lannister was a man who went to women such as her in an eternal effort to excise some part of himself, for a night, or an hour at least, something he despised as weakness. There were such men everywhere, even in the Summer Isles of her birth, though less than here in Westeros, and Chataya had learned to please even them. For a night, or an hour, at least. If he were a man less proud, I could teach to simply accept that darkness within him, instead of trying to destroy it this way. I could tell him that what he does only makes it stronger. But then, if he were the sort of man she could tell such things to, he would not be Tywin Lannister, in all his awful magnificence.

"And where will I go then, my lord?" she asked quietly. "After I sell this place?"

"Wherever it is that whores go," replied Tywin casually. "Oldtown, or Gulltown, or across the Narrow Sea to Tyrosh, or Lys, or Braavos, if that pleases you. Perhaps to White Harbor, if you can stand the cold. Or back to your home, if that is your pleasure."

Chataya nodded, noting that one city was most assuredly not named in Tywin's list, and that city was Lannisport. So this is how it ends, she thought. Kinder than I thought it would be. The gods be praised for small miracles.

Lord Tywin rose laboriously from the bed, and began to put on his breeches before the leaded window of red and yellow diamonds. "There is one more thing," he said quietly.

"What is that, my lord?" said Chataya, an icy feeling growing in her stomach.

"I have heard of a child," he said quietly, turning and fixing her with a green-eyed gaze.

Chataya took a deep breath, doing her best to remain calm. "A girl, my lord."

Tywin nodded, and began to put on his shirt. "Bring her to me."

Chataya stood, and regarded him calmly. He cannot diminish you, she reminded herself. He only imagines he can. "I have been with others, my lord, as you are well aware of, and cannot say with confidence that..."

"Did I ask for your opinion on this matter?" growled Tywin. "Bring her to me." Chataya gave a bow, and then slid into her robe before heading out and down the stairs to Alayaya's room.

The halls of her house of love were thankfully empty tonight, save for a couple of drunken merchants in the common room who seemed as interested in singing 'Alysanne' together as the women they were with, and her daughter's nurse was likewise asleep. But Alayaya was awake, and peered at her, brown eyes bright and alert. Chataya placed a kiss on her little daughter's forehead, and then picked her up, and bore her to Lord Tywin.

The Hand was standing by the hidden entrance he'd had built in secret when he'd been building this house for her, also in secret. A man whose mind was full of much twisting, the Lord Hand, especially as regards his women, she thought, watching him regard little Alayaya with suspicious eyes, poking and prodding her face as if trying to judge a horse. To his mind we must either be pure as clear water, in which case he will claim us, or filthy as midden, in which case he will keep us in secret. And she had little doubt where her daughter would stand in Tywin Lannister's green-gold eyes.

"I do not see myself in her," he said at length in a voice that Chataya could not decide was quietly satisfied or quietly mournful. He gave a firm nod. "It is doubtless as you have said. She is not mine."

"As we both agree," said Chataya softly.

"And she will never believe herself to be mine," noted Tywin.

"Of course not, my lord," she replied. "We agree on this as well."

Tywin nodded again, his eyes intent on her. "Place the child on the bed."

Chataya considered refusing, but she had seen that look in his eye before, and knew what it meant. And so she turned and placed Alayaya on the bed. Once she had set her down, she turned to regard Tywin. The Lord Hand simply stood there, eyes glittering in the lamplight. Taking a deep breath, she walked towards him. He cannot diminish you, she reminded herself. He only imagines he can. One of Tywin's hands darted out and tore the robe from her body, while the other went to loosen his breeches. Chataya shut her eyes as he gripped her, and waited for the pain to start.

Author's Notes: Obviously, this is my interpretation of something that is, at best, merely hinted at that text. Still, it's one I'll stand by, and hope that it doesn't diminish others enjoyment of this tale.