Author's note : Hello! So, this chapter is not at all what it was supposed to be, but when your characters lead you somewhere, you've no choice but to follow them. For the ones who like Alaya, you'll be happy to learn a bit more about her and her past. For those who wish for an update about my health, I've been doing better in the last few days. The pain is almost gone! But when it's there, I only want to rip my stomach out. I can't wait to know what causes that. Might just be my anxiety :/ I'll let you know. I'd finally like to thank everyone who reviewed/favorited/followed! It means a lot to me :) I hope you'll enjoy the following chapter.
Have a good read :D
English is not my first language.
Chapter 5
Whores and Liars
The old man was sweating heavily above her. The tip of his bird unpleasantly tickled her breasts. When his wrinkled hand came up to grope her bouncing tits hard, she knew it would be over soon. She let out a long and high-pitched moan, and as she had predicted, two thrusts and a few grunts later, the old man rolled on his back, his chest heaving.
As much as she hated fucking old wrinkled men whose breath smelled like shit due to their rotting teeth, Alaya knew that she had no choice; after all, Maester Pycelle was one of the closest and most loyal ally to the Lannisters. She needed to keep her façade with him, the same way she did it with the King and his whole court.
Alaya deftly caught the cloth the maester threw carelessly at her to clean her cunt. As she did so, she couldn't help but think about the Hound, and looked forward to her next coupling with him, for he never disappointed her. When she used to work in the brothel, she had once heard one of the girls talking about the infamous scarred man, of how he was big everywhere and knew how to use it. To this day, she could confirm it was true. The man, despite knowing nothing about gentleness during the act, or just preferring his fucks to be like him – hard and honest, with no faked tenderness, – had indeed nothing to be ashamed of about his virility or his body. His face might be a ruin, though Alaya didn't think it was so disgusting anymore, he knew damn well where to put it, and how.
And his butt looked way better than the one she was looking at right now. Maester Pycelle was putting on his nightshirt, all the while stretching his back. Alaya wasn't the only one to have a second face. The maester was still in good shape despite his old age, and his back didn't hurt at all. He faked it all.
Alaya got up and put on a light nightshift. She would usually stay naked, but the nights in King's Landing were getting a little colder lately. The breeze coming through the opened window had always been a welcoming one on her heated skin, but tonight, she felt as if the tiny droplets of sweat froze on her body. Still, despite the cold, she made sure to reveal as much of her breasts as she could without being uncomfortable.
'' Come over here, woman, '' the maester called from the other side of the room.
He was sitting at his desk, which was full of various parchments, quills and tiny bottles of black ink. The maester was holding a letter in his hands, which seal hadn't been broken yet. Alaya came to stand behind the maester and placed her hands on his shoulders to massage them.
The old man sighed and relaxed in her hands. '' His Grace made the right choice when he hired you, wench, '' the maester said while leaning back to rest the back of his head against her breasts.
Wrinkling her nose while he couldn't see her face, Alaya purred, '' 'M glad he did, m'lord. ''
After a few seconds of awkward massage on Pycelle's shoulders, during which the man sighed and grunted, he seemed to suddenly remember the letter in his hands. Alaya peeked over the man's shoulders as he broke the seal and started to open it. He stopped midway.
'' Can you read? ''
Alaya laughed and cocked her head to look him in the eye.
'' 'Course not, '' she lied. She sneaked her hands under his nightshirt and caressed his skin all the way from his torso to his belly, then close to his manhood without touching it, then up again to his torso. '' 'M no proper lady, m'lord. But y'already know that, '' she giggled before finally gripping his now flaccid member. The maester groaned and she moaned low in response. His cock hardened and she started pumping his length slowly.
'' You little vixen, '' he sighed. '' You know how to use your hands… Aaaaaah… Enough now! '' he abruptly swatted her hand away. '' Use them on my neck, instead of disturbing my work. ''
I would gladly break that neck of yours, if only I had half of the Hound's strength.
'' As you wish, m'lord. ''
Before she arrived at the Red Keep, Alaya didn't know that being a whore could be used so much at her advantage. Everyone seemed to assume that she was an uneducated immoral woman, whose only knowledge was how to suck a cock and take it in any whole while pretending great pleasure. What people ignored was that whores didn't all come from a dirty whole in Flea Bottom.
Alaya was born in Maidenpool. Her father had been a renowned woodcarver and fisherman, and had wanted his sons to inherit his business, thus teaching them their letters and their numbers. Alaya, the only girl amongst four boys, had wanted to learn too. She was the youngest, and her father's daughter. She'd often sat on her father's knees while he taught the boys. Her mother disagreed, for she tried her best to show her daughter how to sew and run a household.
Alaya was bored of learning how to be a good wife someday. She dreamed of freedom. She dreamed of traveling in all the colourful cities her father was reading about to her brothers. One day, she had met a beautiful girl a little older than her, with pretty almond eyes, long and curly dark hair, and a strange tan on her skin. Her dress was the color of the sun. That girl came from Pentos. She was a whore. Something Alaya didn't understand yet.
She made up a beautiful picture of her lifestyle to Alaya, without telling her the darkest parts. She told her of the bonds and friendships she had created with other women in her life, how she had many men at her feet, how she could deal with her own money, how she traveled from a city to another, discovering new kinds of food, landscapes, clothes. She also offered her to leave with them.
Not thinking about it twice, Alaya had bundled up her small belongings in a large towel, had written a letter to her parents to tell them of how she was alright and would give them news as soon as she could, but that she was gone to live the life I truly want. At dawn, she was gone.
That is how Alaya became a camp follower at the age of ten and five. True enough, she traveled through the Seven Kingdoms, ate food that had never been on her table – like rotten apples, dried meat, hard cheese and black bread. She had started drinking too. It was easier when she was drunk. A few months later, as they were going back to King's Landing, which she had never seen yet, she had started sharing a young man's tent – Dante had been his name. The man was only eighteen years old, but he was already a good soldier. And a very respectful lover.
Needless to say that Alaya had instantly fell for him. She had believed his words of love and promises of marriage once they would reached the city. Until one day, after they were attacked by a bunch of outlaws a few hours away from the gates to King's Landing, all of her dreams had been crushed in an instant. His horse had come back, but not its master. It had taken a hard blow on Alaya's head by another soldier for her to stop screaming in pain and sadness. When she'd woken up, she had been laying on a dirty bed in one of Flea Bottom's brothels, with her Pentoshi friend sitting beside her, an apologetic smile on her pretty face. A few days later, she had learned that she was with child.
'' Ah! ''
The maester's gasp brought Alaya back to the present. She realized that tears were falling down her cheeks. She wiped them away hastily and looked down at Pycelle.
'' I need to inform the queen at once! ''
He rose to put on his robe and his heavy chains. In his hurry, he'd left the letter on the desk, allowing Alaya to take a peek. She almost gasped too.
'' Don't bother waiting for me, '' the maester said as he hastily snatched the letter away and left the room.
Glancing in the hall in time to see the maester disappearing in the direction of the queen's chambers, Alaya ran off in the opposite direction.
Sansa must know… Her half-brother, Jon Snow, is alive!
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Yeah! The brooding guy who knows nothing is alive! AHEM! I mean, our FAVORITE brooding guy who knows nothing except how to have the sexiest brooding face is alive! That completely unexpected turn of event might change Sansa's fate... or not! Who knows? ;)
Don't forget to leave a review/favorite/follow to let me know what you thought of the chapter! I promise you will learn about Sansa in the next chapter :)
