Chapter 20: The Pillow-House

(295AC)

"Issa brozi…"

"Brōzi."

Jean tried again.

"Issa brōzi iksos Jean. Nyke māzigon hen Vesteros. Skoriot issi ao hen?"

She had only been in Lys for two months and her valyrian had already improved tremendously. Her pronunciation was not perfect and there were still many words she stumbled on, but she could hold a simple conversation.

The langue lessons were something she almost enjoyed; it was interesting to learn something new though the lessons about lovemaking were quite uncomfortable. Watching Zazarra perform different techniques on Arello made her blush. It was very different than her experience with the pirate chief. That was rape, this was sex.

She was painfully aware that she was almost a woman. In Winterfell that would have been exciting, however in Lys that meant she had less a year and a half left before she had to begin receiving customers.

In the beginning Jean had been rebellious and refused to adapt to her new life. She had insisted that she was free and not a slave. Zazarra had then taken her by the arm and sternly said to her; "A slave is only free in death, but it is your choice what do to while you still live". In time she had resigned and accepted that this was her life now.

Jean had more or less learned how the ranking systems worked between whores and courtesans. After training you became a whore and if you filled a certain quota, and had great singing and dancing skills, you could become a courtesan, which meant you became more expensive and exclusive.

Many of Jean's fellow students were those born into slavery or stolen at an early age. They had never known freedom like Jean had and were content as long as they could make some coin to survive. That would never be enough for Jean. She already knew how to play the harp, something she told Zazarra and begun her dancing and singing lessons after her other studies.

She never would have thought you needed to know so much to become a whore. Om the other hand, the prostitutes of Lys was legendary and another class than the whores on the mainland.

The lesson was coming to an end and everyone begun closing their books and leaving the room. Jean stayed behind; she was going to have her dancing lesson.

All trainees were given a white dress with much movement so it was easy to dance in, even if it was not traditional lyseni dancing attire. Zazarra had taken up a lute and as she began tuning it, Jean fastened two tight bracelets with bells attached, on either wrist.

"Remember, you have to be seductive while keeping the tempo." Zazarra said as she began playing. Her teacher had started talking valyrian at all of the lessons to make the students used to speaking it every day.

Jean tried her best to show off her curves while making the bells ring the right moment every time. She made sure to show off her cleavage and her legs always being in lustful positions as she moved with the music. It was not an easy task and she many mistakes but all in all she thought she did pretty well.

When the music stopped, she waited for her teacher's verdict.

"You have to work on your bell movement, and do not make your legs seduction so obvious; you must learn to be desirable without thinking about it."

"Yes, Lady Zazarra."

"Good. Now, again."

xXx

More than eight months had gone by since the princess fled Westeros and disappeared from the face of the earth. Howland Reed blamed himself for not letting her stay. His swamps were hard to travel through and his keep impossible to find. She would have been safe here. He constantly worried about her. Was she starving somewhere? Had she somewhere to sleep? He felt like he had let her down, he had let Lyanna down.

Not knowing how she was doing was worse than not knowing 'where' she was. She was only fourteen, still a child. At least she had ser Rodrik with her but what if that wasn't enough?

He hated that he couldn't do anything for her anymore. The king was looking fanatically for her so if Howland tried to find her Robert would no doubt find out and attack the Neck. The whole realm was tense after the king's extreme obsession became known. The smallfolk all had different speculations about what happened in Winterfell.

Howland had hoped that the song would clear some things up but not all understood the message; that Robert's rebellion was built on a lie, that thousands of people died because one man was jealous and another hotheaded. A revolution had been inevitable after Aerys decent into madness, but putting Robert on the throne had been the wrong way to peace. There was no reason to ponder about it after so much has passed. The world is what it is and everyone had to learn how to live in it. He just wished he could be by Helena's side and help her.

A knock on the door napped him out of his thoughts.

"Come in."

Maester Corlin came in. He was a robust man in his forties, with greying, brown hair. In his hand he held a tiny scroll.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, my lord, but this just came from the Eyrie."

"The Eyrie?" What in the world could Jon Arryn want from him, and a more curious question was where he got a raven who knew how to find Greywater Watch. There were not that many and most was in the North.

He took the scroll and read it. He frowned. This was unexpected.

xXx

It was long overdue. He should have written to Lord Reed as soon as he resigned as hand. Jon had honestly forgotten that Ned wasn't alone when he returned from Dorne with his sister's body but Howland Reed had kind of always existed in the background. But it was a fact that Lord Reed had been with Ned that day and he alone knew the whole truth.

Now finally he had written asking for permission to meet with the crannogman. Jon was willing to meet halfway between Greywater Watch and the Eyrie, somewhere natural and beyond spying eyes.

He had not told Lysa about it, he didn't trust his wife. He was sure she still was in league with Littlefinger as she had been when they grew up. Lysa was unstable and what Jon was doing was borderline treason but he had to know the truth.

He had sent the raven the day before so it should have arrived; now all he could do was wait and hope.

If Lord Reed agreed to meet and Jon got to know the truth he wasn't sure what to do after. He didn't want war but he knew it was coming, sooner or later, it was coming.

xXx

Illyrio Mopatis' palace was as elegant as always. She went to bed after eating a late supper knowing she'd wake up at dawn. However, here it the middle of the day, her dreams seemed to show her what had already happened. It was very confusing.

Daenerys sat in the garden reading a book. Peeking over her shoulder Jean saw it was in valyrian, she still hadn't mastered the langue but it seemed to be about some sort of magicians from… somewhere.

Jean had the clothes she slept in on her; a thin undergarment that fell loosely from her shoulders and down to her knees. Her black hair that she had let out from her usual braid hung on either side of her face; it lightly touched Daenerys cheek when she bent over.

Daenerys suddenly turned her head looking right at Jean, but she knew she couldn't see her. Sure enough, after a moment she heard her aunt mumble.

"Am I sensing ghosts?"

Jean had to laugh a little, she was so cute. So sweet but also very insecure which was worrying. Jean knew she was one year older than Daenerys and felt strangely protective of her. They had never met and she had only begun dreaming of her for half a year and didn't know very much about her and Dany didn't know anything about Jean.

She was unable to protect her, she could barely protect herself. Daenerys returned to her book as Jean took a look around the garden. There were plants growing in beautiful flowerbeds and blooming fruit-trees grew here and there. There were apples, cherries and oranges letting out a nice fruity smell.

Seeing her aunt safe and free made her happy but also worried, she seemed so innocent, Viserys was so rough with her and Jean hoped he wouldn't break Daenerys.

She heard noise coming from inside and went to see. There was her uncle and Illyrio talking while sitting by a small round table.

"Traitors! The whole lot of them!" Viserys hissed. "I am the true king! It should be an honor to fight for me!"

"The Golden Company is only loyal to money and nothing else, your grace." Illyrio answered calmly.

"Now what? I need an army!"

"I don't know, your grace, but here are many sellswords in Essos we will find someone."

"You better." The Beggar King Growled.

Jean had a bad feeling in her gut feeling about what she just heard. Suddenly she felt the pull that meant she was waking up. She glanced back at her aunt, so small and helpless.

One moment later and she woke up in her tiny room in Rūklon, the brothel in Lys. Dawn was breaking outside the window; she hurriedly splashed some water in her face from the washbasin and changed to her white gown and grabbed her books. She wanted to be the first one up so she could do her secret morning routine.

Rūklon was located so high you could see the horizon and more importantly, the balcony was on the northwestern side of the building. There was no way to see Westeros, of course and the closest land was the Broken Arm in Dorne, far from home. However despite the distance Dorne was on the same continent as the North, which made her long for it. Someday, someday she would go there even if she didn't know how. She stood there gazing out over the sea until she heard the others leaving their rooms.

It was no secret she was from Westeros, if nothing else her accent exposed her, but her face had so many valyrian features it was heard to see it.

Silently she joined the rest of the trainees on their way to the dining room. It was a large room with no tables and cushions instead of chairs. Everyone ate there, from the trainees to the courtesans. The meal, consisting of fruit and fish, were served directly on the stone floor and eaten with their hands. It was so different than the Great Hall in Winterfell. After the morning meal they were required to unbraid their hair and curl it with heated stones and apply coal and color to their eyes. Fashion was extremely important in Lys; if you didn't do it properly you would be punished.

After double-checking her appearance in the mirror on the wall, she applied some rose-scented perfume. It reminded her of the Winter Roses in the Glass Gardens. When she was satisfied she went to the studyroom where Lady Zazarra was waiting for them. After scanning their faces she nodded and began the lesson.

"Today you will learn how to use a dirk." The lady said as she showed them a beautiful and sharp dirk. She swung it gracefully and professionally in her hand. "As you know, Rūklon is a highly regarded pillow-house, you cannot let any man touch you if they are not customers. You will also need this knowledge to make sure they don't go too far, when they are here." She stopped and looked at them. "Now, can anyone tell me what I mean with that?"

You could almost hear the thinking in the room. Jean frowned and thought hard; couldn't the customer do whatever they wanted? As long as they paid they were the masters, right? Their body belong to them, so…but…? She swallowed.

"Could it be they go too far if they get too violent?" She said.

"Good work, Jean." Lady Zazarra smiled. "That's right. In the lower class brothels, there is no limit to the customer's behavior, however if they start hurting you while you are working here, you hurt them back and they get banned from the establishment. High-class whores and courtesans must remain healthy and unharmed or you will taint Rūklon's reputation."

She gave them a serious stare before handing out a detailed dirk of wood to each of them and continued the lesson by showing how to grip it properly.

Jean thought about Lady Zazarra's words. In a way she had been lucky; if she had been sold to a lower-class brothel, her life would be worse than hell. Here at least she got good food and get to learn valyrian and dancing. She realized it could have been worse, much worse. Of course she wanted to go home to the North but that wasn't possible yet, so she had to make the best or her situation and be grateful she ended up where she did.

She focused on the lesson and tried to find the balance of the dirk, before aiming to slash Robert Baratheon's throat open.

Author's Note:

So I decided to try writing longer chapters, though that means you probably have to wait a little longer for each one.

I changed to rules a little while writing about the brothels as I feel the pillow-houses of Lys should be a little different than the ones in Westeros and Essos, it's the main trade of the island after all.

I wrote the year under the title so you can understand when there a huge time skip, there will be one in the next chapter so stay tuned for that.

Rūklon Flower

Happy Reading

Mimi890