Chapter 21: The Violet Rose
(297AC)
Bhalal Toxo was a trader from the Summer Islands in his thirties; he had just made a small fortune by selling gemstones and spices to the lyseni merchants. His pouch was filled to the brim with the oval coins they had in Lys. Bhalal was pleased with himself and felt like he deserved a reward, he stalked through the beautiful city until he finally stumbled upon a pillow-house with a lotus-flower over the entrance. Rūklon was famous for being one of the most highly-ranked brothels in Lys, and very expensive. Normally only noblemen could afford to hire one of the prostitutes and it was never cheap. Bhalal knew that most of his money would be gone if he spent it here but right now he was too happy to care.
He entered the building and made his way to the small man sitting at the desk inside, writing.
"I'd like one hour with a beautiful woman." He said.
The little man glanced up at him.
"We have many of those here. The question is; can you afford them?"
"I have the coin."Bhalal said and emptied half his pouch.
The man looked at it.
"Not enough."
Reluctantly Bhalal emptied a third, to his relief the man nodded and collected it into a drawer.
"What are you looking for?" He asked without looking at him.
"Something different, something…exotic."
"I know just the one." The man scribbled something on a piece of paper and gave it to him. "You're in luck, it's not often she's available. Give that to the woman in the back and she'll show you where to go." He gestured to a vault leading to a garden further in, before going back to his scribbling.
Bhalal walked into the garden and found a woman playing the lute. Looking at her dark skin and curly hair he assumedthat she too came from the Summer Island.
Without a word he handed her the note. She stopped playing, read it and nodded.
"This way." She said and walked even further inside.
Rūklon was unlike any brothel he had ever been to, and he had been to many. On the Summer Islands prostitution was respected profession but not in the rest of the world. Some whore-houses were so dirty they were moldy. Rūklon was clean and exquisitely decorated. Beautiful tapestries hanged on the walls and erotic statues adorned the huge fountain in the garden.
A few doors down she woman stopped.
"This is it." She knowingly smiled. "Enjoy."
With that she left and Bhalal entered the room. What he saw in there took his breath away.
On a huge bed with indigo linens he saw the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, idly lay and showing off her curved body that got his breeches feel uncomfortably tight. She had a deep violet dress that left little to the imagination. From her almost white neck hung a golden necklace with a huge amethyst and her hair was black as a raven's wings. Her face was perfect and she oozed eroticism.
"My," She surprised him by speaking the summer tongue. "What a handsome man."
Even her voice was beautiful! Bhalal was convinced this had to be Sevda personified.
"Tell me," She continued. "What could such a man as yourself want with me, hm?"
She had risen on all fours and was now slowly crawling toward him on the bed. Bhalal had lost the ability to speak. He was stunned by this young, but oh so beautiful woman.
"Perhaps, you would like to touch me?" She whispered to him sensually. "Or maybe, you want me touch you?"
He could only nod. She smiled and licked his neck as she unbuttoned his shirt. She let her hands explore his torso and drove him almost crazy when she nibbled his ear.
It became too much for him when she touch his cock on the outside of his breeches. He tugged at her clothes and massaged her firm breasts and flat stomach. She was perfect, absolutely perfect.
She giggled a little and let him inside her.
xXx
After the man had gone, Jean put on her dress again and fixed her hair in the mirror. He had not been bad at all, pretty handsome and definitely better than the old, fat noblemen she used to entertain. It was not often she had met a Summer Islander, it was new and exciting and something to remember.
However there was more than one reason this man was special, because with him she had finally met the quota to become a courtesan. She had been working so hard the last sixteen months; she had slept with almost three hundred men, learnt dancing, singing and three languages at once. It had been hard, and a few times she had been forced to use her skills with the dirk, and now she could take the next step to even greater heights.
She could choose her customers, she would get a title and it would not only be about sex. No more fat pigs to crush her with their weight or old men having something to prove.
She wasn't free, but she had more options than before. It felt nice.
She threw herself on the bed and smiled. Jean knew she had become amazingly beautiful and that men always competed for even an hour with her. The serious and stiff Helena would have been so embarrassed about something like that but the lively and sensual Jean found it extremely funny. She had adapted to her life in Lys in an almost eerie way, she lived by the words ser Rodrik had told her; "don't let it break you". So instead of being miserable she only looked at the good thing in life, she ate well, she dressed well and somehow she was not repulsed by men anymore.
Two months before her sixteenth nameday Zazarra had tried to help her get rid of her fear for men. Every time a man touched her she had seen the pirate chief and screamed uncontrollably, Zazarra had then taken her into her arms to calm her down. It had taken time and a lot of patience but in the end she had done it. Now she almost enjoyed it.
She often thought about her home in Westeros and what her father would have said, but the faces of her family had faded, though her hatred for Robert Baratheon was as strong as ever. His face was as clear as day, his blue eyes and huge, black beard were burned into her memory. She still remembered the fury he had looked at her with that day more than two years ago. Because it was too painful she had stopped playing the harp, instead she had learned to play the lute.
She had never said a word to anyone, terrified it would reach the wrong ears. So she had killed Helena and been reborn as Jean, maybe someday she could call herself 'Jeanerys' but it was unthinkable now.
She heard a knock on the door and walked over to open it. Outside Zazarra stood with a small cup in her hand, Jean knew what it was. It was to make sure no seed quickened in her womb. After Jean confessed to Zazarra and Arello that she had been with child before and wanted to avoid it at all cost, a huge shipment of moontea were brought from the mainland. Both Zazarra and Arello had gotten very attached to the lovely westerosi and bowed before her demands. She never asked for much and there were too many children born in Lys anyway.
All things considered Jean led a pretty easy life for a slave; she didn't even have a collar. It was considered unattractive and unnecessary, so no slave in Lys had one.
Jean took the cup from Zazarra and downed it as she let her friend in.
"So, you have finally done it." Zazarra smiled at her. "You can finally become a courtesan. Excited?"
"Extremely, now I can finally refuse that Lord Maltheon." Jean laughed. "If I have to entertained him one more time I think I will suffocate."
"Well, from tomorrow on you don't have to worry about that anymore. Just remember you have to have at least one customer per day." She put her dark hand against Jean's pale cheek. "I still remember when you came here, so scared and confused, now look at you. You have become so beautiful."
Jean's eyes began to tear up. "I never could have done it without you. You are like the mother I never had."
The two women hugged for a minute before separating.
"Come now, let's have supper."
xXx
Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell was annoyed, VERY annoyed. His brother Doran had sent him on a ship to Lys with the excuse that Ellaria wanted some lyseni perfume. Ridiculous! Oberyn's paramour had enough perfumes to share with all of Dorne. No, Oberyn knew why he was sent away. With the realm being so unstable and Tywin Lannister back as the king's hand, Oberyn had been so furious that he wanted to march to King's Landing and rip the Old Lion's head off. Doran had sent his younger brother away so he couldn't do something reckless. Oberyn scoffed, as if he didn't have a reason too.
The two brothers often fought over Doran's unwillingness to do anything to avenge their sister. Sitting around doing nothing felt like a betrayal. It became even worse when the minstrels began singing The Dragonwolf Of Winterfell in Sunspear. The fact that a half-sister of his niece and nephew survived the rebellion was bitter-sweet news. He rejoiced that a sibling of Rhaenys and Aegon survived, but on the other hand he had to wonder what right did she had to be alive while her sister and brother were not. Why could Eddard Stark save his sister's child while Oberyn couldn't?
Oberyn didn't wish the girl dead, gods forbid, but he hated the injustice.
It was true that an entertaining city like Lys would take his mind of things but he didn't want to be sent away like a child.
He stood by the prow of the ship looked eastward. They were still a few days away from Lys. He had a plan, he would stay for a week before returning home, he would find a place to stay then find some nice brothel to spend his days in. Oh, and get some perfume for Ellaria, just for the sake of it. He had taken much coin from Doran as a petty revenge so he could go wherever he wanted. Maybe he would even request a courtesan? Whatever he did he would make this humiliating trip worthwhile.
He leaned back and took a deep breath. It had been a long time since he felt the sea air so clearly. Sunspear was seated by the Summer Sea but unless you went all the way to the port you couldn't feel it as you should.
Fresh and clear it blew all fears and worries away. Since Elia's death Oberyn had never left Dorne, he never realized how much he missed traveling, seeing new places, and meeting new people. For an adventurer like Oberyn that was the ideal life, to see the world, but the fact that his sister's murderer still walked free made that 'ideal life' meaningless.
No, he shouldn't think about that now. Since he was far away from that beast now there was nothing he could do anyway.
xXx
After becoming a courtesan Jean had moved to a larger chamber. Her bed was big enough for two people, her wardrobe could fit all of her dresses, her lute had its own cupboard and a dressing table with a water-basin and its own mirror stood by the window that was facing northwest. It was much bigger than the one she'd had in Winterfell.
Cheerfully she picked out a violet dress with a two slits by the legs, which matched her eyes, it was beautiful made from lace and a ruby attached between her breasts, the only thing holding it up was two thin straps over her shoulders. It was easy to put on and easy to take off.
As she sat down before the table and began doing her hair she hummed on the song from the North.
She took two strands of hair from the front and clasped in in place at the back of her head with a rose-decorated lip, then she took curled her hair from the clip and down leaving the top of her hair straight. With scented oils she made sure the curls stayed in place.
She took some coal and applied it to her eyes and some dark pink color to her lips.
Lastly she opened a box to choose her jewelry. She decided for a simple chain with a pear cut ruby and matching earrings. Now she was ready for the day.
But before she left she picked up another necklace; her mother's pendant, a silver dragon with diamond eyes. How she managed to keep it hidden for so long was a miracle, but somehow she still had it. The only thing she had left from the mother she never knew, she felt the sting when she remembered how she lost her father's harp. She knew the pirates said they would sell it in Volantis but something like a harp in pure silver had to be long gone, and she didn't really knew where Volantis were.
She sighed and put the necklace back in the box. She forced herself to smile; she couldn't look grumpy.
She hoped some handsome men would come to see her. Not because she wanted to sleep with them but because of the thrill of it.
She left her chambers and went to the dining room, she was just about to sit in her usual spot when she remembered; she was allowed to sit with the other courtesans now. There were not many; only three in Rūklon, herself, Jaerla Bergaeron and Ilona Faenoran. Both of them was born and raised in Lys. Jaerla was about twenty and Ilona a few years older. Jean sat down beside Ilona and took a peach-piece from the plate in front of them.
The two older courtesans smiled at her.
The day was starting good; she hoped it would stay that way.
xXx
Oberyn sat on a divan outside in the garden. The patio was shadowed by a large tree and a bottle with lyseni wine was placed on a small table behind the armrest.
He had come the brothel of pure curiosity; he had heard a rumor of the newly appointed courtesan and how highly requested she was, and expensive.
She had been dubbed the Violet Rose and you had to be extremely lucky to get some time with her but somehow he succeeded. He was interested in the Rose as she apparently was quite young.
After paying he had been lead to the garden to wait for the rumored girl, Oberyn wasn't a very patient person and hoped she was worth.
"I'm sorry you had to wait, handsome." A voice said from behind him.
He turned around and was stunned; a girl in her middle teens with a body and face to die for smiled at him. She had shiny, black hair and violet, mischievous eyes. Oberyn had to admit that he had seldom seen a more beautiful girl.
She sat down beside him and seductively leaned against the armrest. He smirked at her and let his eyes roam over her body.
"I must say, you are worth every single coin I spent."
"My," She giggled. "Thank you."
"Could you tell me your name?"
"I'm Jean and who are you, handsome?"
"My name is Oberyn."
She stilled and the smile left her face, but she quickly composed herself.
"Oberyn… as in Oberyn Martell?"
"That's right. I'm honored you've heard of me."
"Well, of course I've heard of the famous Red Viper of Dorne." She straightened and leaned towards him, showing off her cleavage. "I have also heard you know your way around a woman's body. Is that true?"
"It might be." He whispered. "Why don't I show you?"
"If you'd like." She said as she let her dress fall from her shoulders exposing her not overly big but quite well-rounded teats.
Oberyn let his hand slide under her dress and towards her cunt. She closed her eyes and moaned when he slid his fingers inside her. Oberyn smirked as he felt that she got wet. He had no doubt that she knew how to fake it if she'd ever lay with a man who couldn't satisfy her but he was fully confident that he could.
Oberyn believed that there was no point in having sex if not both parties enjoyed it and this girl was so enticing and sexually mature he didn't think that would be a problem.
She opened her eyes which were cloudy with desire; she gazed into his eyes and silently begged for more. Somehow, he wasn't sure when, his breeches had come undone and she was on her knees taking him into her mouth, bobbling her head up and down as she almost drew him over the edge. Before he could release he moved her head up from his cock and beckoned to her to sit on his lap. He drew her dress up over her hips. She straddled him; she let out a loud moan when his cock slowly reached deeper inside her. She clenched his member in pleasure and began riding him.
Her flushed face was adorable and Oberyn nibbled on her nipple and enjoyed how she tried suppressing her groans. She was enjoying his body! This excited him to no end.
He flipped her over so they got in a missionary position on the divan. Roughly he moved his hips to drive her to even higher heights. Her moans had changed to screams of pleasure. Had they been somewhere else Oberyn might have tried to suppress them but this was a brothel, no one cared.
Jean reached up and put her arms around his neck.
"Hey," She said breathlessly. "You can go even harder if you want."
This girl seriously tuned him on so much! He obliged to her request and went so deep he touched her womb. She let out a surprised yell.'
"What…?" She seemed shocked, she probably never had anyone that far in. After all, it wasn't many men who could do it.
Again and again he rammed into her until he released his load. Exhausted he pulled out and sat up so he wouldn't fall down on her. She panted and on shaky legs kneeled before him again to clean his cock with her tongue.
She glanced up at him with a satisfied look in her eyes.
When he was clean, she swallowed his cum. She smirked at him and closed his breeches mutely hinting that she needed a break. After fixing her clothes and hair she poured him a goblet of wine and sat down.
"That, my lord, was quite impressive." She said with an impudent smile.
"I know." He took a gulp from his goblet. "Tell me, Jean. Am I right when I assume you are westerosi?"
She looked at him at him.
"Yes, that's right. I was stolen from my home years ago and sold here."
"Really, so where are you from?" He saw how she hesitated but didn't comment on it.
"I don't know, somewhere in the Vale I think. I was very little when they took me."
That was a lie, Oberyn could tell. If she had been small when she was kidnapped she wouldn't have such an obvious accent. He couldn't place it, but maybe the Riverlands?
"What about you? What is your home like?" Now she was just making smalltalk but he knew he wouldn't get any more information out of her, so he let it go.
"Ah, it's so beautiful you wouldn't believe it." He answered her. "It is always very hot and dry in Dorne but the Water Gardens is wonderfully cool."
He continued telling her about his home while her eyes were big with curiosity.
xXx
Oberyn had stayed with her for most of the day, and held her numerous times. She had never felt so amazing during sex before and with his wits and humor he appealed to her as a person too.
She wasn't in love with him, the very notion was ridiculous, but she desired him as a partner in bed. They could maybe count as friends?
Jean was aware that being with Oberyn was very risky, if he noticed the similarity she had with Rhaegar or her siblings she would be in real danger. She doubted that he would try to hurt her himself but if he told anyone Robert would sooner or later hear about it, then she was as good as dead.
But she enjoyed the company of the Dornish prince; he was funny and their talks were actually interesting.
They ate supper together and enjoyed each other one more time, before he left, promising to come back the next day.
Jean returned to her room, a little sore after all the love-making, and changed into her night dress. After drinking her moontea, she washed her hair and face clean from all the oil and make-up.
In the candlelight she could see her reflection; a pale girl with straight, black hair, purple eyes, high cheekbones, a feline nose and full, pink lips. She remembered that Howland Reed had told her how much she looked like Rhaegar, whether that was true or not she couldn't say since she didn't know what he looked like. But it was true she didn't look like a Stark, she couldn't believe she didn't notice it while she was growing up.
Being with Oberyn had made her homesick. She walked over to the window and looked towards the northern horizon. It was dark outside but the moonlight was bright enough for her to see.
She wouldn't cry! She had promised herself long ago that she wouldn't cry anymore. She opened the chest that stood under the window. Inside laid a harp made from wood. To her surprise, Zazarra had given it to her on her fifteenth nameday. She was pretty sure slaves didn't get gifts on their namedays.
The harp was very simple and nothing like the one she lost and she had only played on it once, but now she felt like doing it again.
Slowly she let her fingers dance over the strings; she played a song she had made herself while being a prisoner in the pirate lair, as she was trying to escape reality.
I am the last of the direwolves
My family's gone from the earth
The last of the honorable direwolves
Rulers long 'fore my birth
The stag king murdered my fathers
My brothers and sisters too
Now my home is gone forever
Its halls echoes empty and cold
I am the last of the direwolves
My family's gone from the earth
The last of the honorable direwolves
Rulers long 'fore my birth
She felt how the tears threatened to come forward and she quickly regretted playing the song. She had promised! Almost angrily she put away the harp and closed the lid. She sighed and crawled into bed.
She tried to think happy thoughts; Oberyn said he would come tomorrow so she would probably be busy the whole day. She smiled, it was a little funny; Oberyn was her siblings' uncle, she could imagine his reaction if her knew who she really was.
Oberyn's shocked face was the last thing she saw before sleep took her.
Author's Note:
The song is a rewrite of the Last Of The Giants, though I didn't use the whole song.
I'm a little proud of myself for being able to get together a pretty long chapter, at least for being me. Please review and tell me what you think.
Mimi890