Battles can end in what feels like seconds, but wars can last a lifetime. While Littlefinger's whores did not fight out on the battlefield, the war of the five kings took the men from their beds leaving them to serve the oldest and richest of King's Landing. There were no young handsome Lord to serve, and tensions were high. Even Littlefinger found himself looking over his shoulder in fear that someone was to drive a knife into his back. His worry only grew when the King's Guard infiltrated his walls and slaughtered the babe of one of his girls. The late king's bastard son.
With rebellion rising across Westeros, Cersei and her young lion, Joffrey, were desperate to assert their powers and keep their claim of the Iron Throne. There were whispers that the new king was a Bastard, blood not of the Baratheon House but purely the blood of the lion. This had Baelish eyeing the petite Casterly Rock whore that had seemed to steel the Kingslayer's affection. If it was known by the queen her dear brother had fucked his whores, the pretty blonde with freckled cheeks and perfect tits would face the same fate as the child ripped from his mother's breast. He couldn't hide her away any longer. While Ser Jaime paid him well and she brought in good money with the show she put on with the other girls, she was beginning to draw questions from his clientele. Many craved for what she had to offer, and now he would answer their call.
Julianna received no warning, two men strolling into her private quarters with the promise that they were having Baelish's best girl serve them. The road to King's Landing was long and treacherous during the time of war. A sellsword and an imp were an interesting pair, especially when they walked into a brothel together.
A smile split over the tall, dark-haired man at the sight of the curvy whore in front of them. While her dress hung off her frame, the fabric was sheer, displaying her beauty for all that dared to gaze. He settled himself down in the corner, the comfort of the pillowed chair consuming his sore body. "You're gonna want to start with me girl," he spoke, a hand reaching out to pat his friend on the back playfully, "from what I hear from this one, you won't want nothing else when he's done."
Tyrion Lannister, Hand to King Joffrey, let out a low chuckle as he moved to settle in his own seat. His own lips parted to add to his friend's jeering remarks only to fall silent at the sight of the girl. Hooded eyes grew wide for but a moment, before growing soft with recognition. He knew this girl and in not the way he knew Littlefinger's other whores. This was the girl he had chosen for his brother. Curls fell into his eyes as he leaned forward in his seat, trying to make out the expression she dawned on her features. Any other whore would have been all over Bronn in an instant. Their legs splayed wide or mouth consuming his cock. Instead, the blonde stood back against her vanity, lips slightly parted and eyes wide and glassy. Petrified. It was as if no one had come for her services before.
"Com' on now," Bronn encouraged his tone light and filled with humor. "I don't mind when a girl plays hard to get, but it's been a long time since I've had a good whore." Hands scarred and calloused by battle reached down to the laces of his trousers, working his cock free from its confinement.
Tyrion paid no mind to his friend's indecency, instead, his eyes remained focused on the girl. She was a scared animal, slowly coming to the realization of what was to come.
Her thoughts flew through her mind like an arrow on the battlefield. One after the other trying to reach its target. Each concluded on only one thing: Baelish had decided that she wasn't Jaime's anymore. She had waited countless days for his return, spending them pleasuring and being pleasured by the other girls. The naive girl from Casterly Rock wanted nothing more but to keep the promises she had made to the golden knight. Her heart ached deep in her chest, tears threatening to spill from sapphire eyes as she moved across the room the kneel before the sellsword. A delicate hand took hold of his cock, beginning to stroke it slowly. Deep in her gut, her stomach was doing somersaults, Jules hadn't touched a cock since Ser Jaime left many moons ago.
"Don't be shy girl," Bronn coaxed, his rough hand reaching out for her cheek. Her soft flesh was squished between his thumb and forefinger, and while his touch was gentle panic shot through her limb from limb. Her face turned away from his grasp, a cowardly yelp escaping from plump lips. The squeal had both men jump back, eyes wide. They never had a whore do this before. Bronn quickly shoved his cock away, any sign of arousal lost now. When each man looked at one another one thing was clear, they did not know what to do.
The three of them stood still, all afraid of what to do next. Tyrion watched, as the young woman curled in on herself, tears streaming down her cheeks. Down at her level, the imp reached out and place a hand down carefully on her shoulder. "My dear," he started, his words a soft whisper, "my friend and I, we didn't mean to scare you. We were unaware of the situation…" Tyrion was hesitant to assume too much with his time away from King Landing for so long. "If you would excuse us-"
Tyrion's eyes met Bronn, nodding towards the door. The sellsword didn't question him and followed him. "It's a shame really, beautiful girl great tits," he spoke as he moved into the dark hallways. "Are you going to tell me what's going on with that girl?"
Tyrion looked up and down the hallway, the moans of whores keeping his words from unwanted ears. Even then, he couldn't betray his brother. "I'm going to talk to Littlefinger, find yourself another whore." A hand delved into his pocket, pulling out a handful of coins to toss at the sellsword.
Short, quick strides carried the Tyrion throughout the brothel, his eyes searching until they landed on the Master of Coin. "Lord Baelish," he called, disrupting the man from his conversation with his whores, "a moment of your time?"
The man of the Vale didn't keep the Hand of the King waiting. "Did Julianna fail to please you, my lord?" There was a glint of worry in the man's eye, a glimmer that told Tyrion that the young woman was in greater danger than he realized.
Tyrion took it upon himself to pour himself a glass of wine, he sipped it slowly before he spoke, "were you planning on telling me she is my brother's whore?" It was a firm accusation, one that the imp was sure of. His gaze raised his gaze and held it firm. "She wasn't too happy to serve us. At first, I didn't understand why. Then, it hit me. My brother's always been a loyal man," if you didn't count the time he had killed the king, but it was an act that displayed the loyalty he held for his family, "and she's a loyal woman."
His hand reached to his side, pulling a bag of coins from his hip. "She was never here, she was never a whore, and she is coming with me."
Tyrion didn't wait for an answer to ask. Swiping a cloak from a near chair he moved back for the woman's room and found Roslyn consoling the young whore. "Lord Tyrion," the redhead greeted, "it would be my pleasure to please you, my lord."
"Another day," he made the empty promise, "Julianna is it?"
The blonde raised her face from Roslyn's generous breast, nodding gently to answer his call. "Come with me my lady," Tyrion spoke and watched as confusion spilled out over her features.
"My lady?" Ros questioned, her arms trying to keep her close.
"There has been a horrible mistake, Julianna, you need to come with me," Tyrion cloaked and reached to drape the burgundy cloak over her shoulders.
Julianna was hesitant, remaining glued to her confidant and teacher but was eased off her form by Tyrion's careful touch. "Where are you taking me?" she whispered to him gently, guiding the hood over her head as she was guided to the door. She couldn't help but fear that she had just been sold to the imp by Baelish, that she was now his own personal property.
"The Red Keep," Tyrion answered as if the answer was obvious. It was both the most dangerous and safest place for the girl until Jaime returned - if he returned. "I don't know what you and my brother have arranged, but you cannot uphold them in a brothel." Tyrion couldn't help but frown to himself as he walked alongside the girl in the darkness of night. She had no idea, no one would have thought to tell her. Jaime was North battling against Rob Stark, the self-proclaimed King of the North, they had fallen in the Battle of Whispering Woods. Now, the Kingslayer was their captive.
