FIC: Whore (Alayaya/various) for madamechataya
Recipient: madamechataya
Title: Whore
Author: redcandle17
Rating: R
Characters: Alayaya, Chataya, Marei, Robert, Renly, Pycelle
Word Count: 1,448
Summary: A brief look at Alayaya's life as a whore in King's Landing.
Warning: Implied underage sex, prostitution
Author's Note: This isn't a "happy hooker" fic but neither is it solely filled with angst and abuse. I tried to write a positive-yet-realistic take on what it might have been like being a woman of color working as a prositute in medieval not!Europe.
Her first moon’s blood had ceased to flow. It was time for Alayaya to have her first man. She was eager and terrified. What if she could not please the man? What if he did not please her?
“At home the first time is never for coin,” her mother said. “At home you would first worship the gods with a priest. But here…” Chataya sighed. “The priests of this land deem love a sin. I would let you marry, but none here worthy of you would take you to wife.”
Alayaya knew that. Women who’d lain with men other than a husband were judged to be of low moral character and the stigma was passed down to their children, too. “Son of a whore” was the worst insult one man could fling at another. Daughters of whores were assumed to be born whores and thus fair game for any man. Alayaya had heard of whores’ daughters who’d been raped before their flowering. Luckily her mother had protected her from such a fate.
“The money is yours to do whatever you please, daughter.” Three gold dragons they’d asked for and three gold dragons the Westerosi king was willing to pay to deflower her. It was an exorbitant sum of money. Thoughts of fabulous jewels or a well-bred palfrey came to mind, but her jewelry was good enough and she had no need of a horse. She vowed to save the gold until she could think of something better.
Singers sang songs about the strength of the towering giant who’d smashed the last Targaryen and taken the Iron Throne for his own, but while King Robert was still very tall, he reminded Alayaya more of a merchant than a legendary warrior. He was quite fat and he had not bothered to trim his wild beard in some time.
“What a tasty little morsel you are, girl,” the king told her after he’d kissed her thoroughly. “I’ve tumbled your mother a time or two but you are sweeter.”
The gods made woman and man to join and please each other, Alayaya reminded herself. It should not matter that King Robert was old and fat. She let herself focus on the sensation of his mouth upon her breasts and his fingers between her legs. She let herself feel the pleasure the gods wanted her to feel.
~
The young lord came to her to learn a woman’s body. He was no stranger to pleasure but the soft flesh of women did not rouse him.
“I must marry,” he said, sipping the fine wine her mother stocked for clients. “I’ll not have Cersei’s younger boy inherit Storm’s End.”
“Close your eyes,” Alayaya whispered to him. She kissed his lips softly and grasped his manhood firmly.
He closed his eyes, but it was no good. He would not harden, not even after she’d used her mouth on him. She knew ways to give pleasure to a man who could not rise, but those methods would not help the young lord sire children on his noble bride.
“There is an apothecary, my lord, who can brew potions that will make you as hard as a rock whether you will it or not. Shall I procure you a sample of his wares?”
“Aye. If the beauty and skill of the city’s best whore are not enough, then I suppose it is time I tried potions.” He gave her a rueful smile.
He was very handsome. Alayaya would have very much liked to make love with such a man. But the gods had ordained Renly Baratheon to love the bodies of men and there was naught she could do about it.
~
The old maester reached his climax mere moments after she’d taken him into her body. Alayaya slid from atop him and draped her arm across his bony chest. She expected him to sleep, but he wanted to talk.
“Tell me about the highborn men who come to you.”
“It would not be right to spread tales, my lord.” She smiled coyly. “I keep their secrets as you would have me keep yours.”
“I am not asking for gossip, child. We maesters chronicle the events of our times for future generations so that they might learn.”
“You’ll write it down in a book?” If they knew how many of their noble lords and revered septons frequented whores, perhaps the people of Westeros would realize the folly of their beliefs.
“I’ll include it in the historical biographies we maesters keep for our own records.”
Alayaya thought of the things she could tell him. But it would not be wise. There were certain things a good whore did and did not do, and she did not tell her clients’ secrets. “I know many stories, Grand Maester. My mother told me stories of the land she came from. Would you like to hear one of those stories?”
Grand Maester Pycelle grew irritable. “I’ve read tomes on the Summer Isles. What I want is an intimate study of the important men of our time.”
Lord Stannis Baratheon had recently exiled all the whores from Dragonstone. If the maester insisted upon being told a tale, Alayaya would give him one. “He comes to me disguised as a serving man...” she began.
~
The new girl, Marei, was different from the other girls who worked at the brothel. She had the demure manner of a Westerosi lady and it made her very popular with the men. Most interestingly, she could read and write, skills that not all noblemen had mastered. Dancy was jealous of the attention Marei received, but Alayaya was intrigued by her.
“How did you learn to read?” She asked her one afternoon.
“The maester who sired me taught me,” Marei answered, after a long silence. “He could not claim me as his bastard, but he gave me what he could. He said knowledge was the most precious thing of all, and no one would ever be able to take it away from me.”
Alayaya wondered how Marei had come to work in a King’s Landing brothel but she did not ask. Such stories were rarely happy ones.
The king was hosting a tourney in honor of Prince Joffrey’s name day and visitors from all over the realm had descended on the city. It was a very busy time. Many of the lords and knights from inland holdings had never seen a person whose skin was as dark as Alayaya’s and her mother’s, and they were in high demand.
Alayaya was glad when the tourney ended and the visitors left the city. Some of the men had been rude enough to examine her body for differences other than color. It had happened before and it had been amusing the first few times, but being treated as a curiosity so often in such a short period had felt an unpleasant feeling.
To lift her spirits Alayaya spent a morning walking through the better merchant district. She deserved something nice. Oranges from Dorne? No, a trader friend of her mother’s brought oranges and fruits even more exotic whenever he stopped at this port. She considered a pair of silk slippers but the seller wanted more than she felt they were worth.
“A discount just for you!!” He called as she walked away.
Alayaya purchased the slippers at this new, reasonable price and continued down the street, pleased. There was a bookseller touting books from the Free Cities and beyond, and beside him was a merchant selling rolls of parchment and bottles of ink. Further down another bookseller sold books with blank pages, books yet to be written.
She imagined making a record of all the men who’d come to see her and all the girls she’d worked with, all the stories her mother had told her and all the sights she’d seen. She liked the thought of having such a thing. She could give it to her own daughter or son some day.
A thick leather-bound volume caught her eye. The cover had a border of silver and colored stones. It was truly a treasure. It cost a whole gold dragon but Alayaya did not mind paying.
That night she drew Marei aside. “Give me your time. I will pay same as a man.”
Marei seemed wary. “You are lovely, but I do not…”
Alayaya quickly reassured her. “No, sweetling, not for pleasure. I want you to teach me to read and write.”
Marei smiled. “That would be my pleasure.”
Alayaya kept her book in mind whenever the lessons proved difficult or her clients irksome, and even later when the high lords brought death to the brothel. She was going to possess a treasure soon.
Title: Whore
Author: redcandle17
Rating: R
Characters: Alayaya, Chataya, Marei, Robert, Renly, Pycelle
Word Count: 1,448
Summary: A brief look at Alayaya's life as a whore in King's Landing.
Warning: Implied underage sex, prostitution
Author's Note: This isn't a "happy hooker" fic but neither is it solely filled with angst and abuse. I tried to write a positive-yet-realistic take on what it might have been like being a woman of color working as a prositute in medieval not!Europe.
Her first moon’s blood had ceased to flow. It was time for Alayaya to have her first man. She was eager and terrified. What if she could not please the man? What if he did not please her?
“At home the first time is never for coin,” her mother said. “At home you would first worship the gods with a priest. But here…” Chataya sighed. “The priests of this land deem love a sin. I would let you marry, but none here worthy of you would take you to wife.”
Alayaya knew that. Women who’d lain with men other than a husband were judged to be of low moral character and the stigma was passed down to their children, too. “Son of a whore” was the worst insult one man could fling at another. Daughters of whores were assumed to be born whores and thus fair game for any man. Alayaya had heard of whores’ daughters who’d been raped before their flowering. Luckily her mother had protected her from such a fate.
“The money is yours to do whatever you please, daughter.” Three gold dragons they’d asked for and three gold dragons the Westerosi king was willing to pay to deflower her. It was an exorbitant sum of money. Thoughts of fabulous jewels or a well-bred palfrey came to mind, but her jewelry was good enough and she had no need of a horse. She vowed to save the gold until she could think of something better.
Singers sang songs about the strength of the towering giant who’d smashed the last Targaryen and taken the Iron Throne for his own, but while King Robert was still very tall, he reminded Alayaya more of a merchant than a legendary warrior. He was quite fat and he had not bothered to trim his wild beard in some time.
“What a tasty little morsel you are, girl,” the king told her after he’d kissed her thoroughly. “I’ve tumbled your mother a time or two but you are sweeter.”
The gods made woman and man to join and please each other, Alayaya reminded herself. It should not matter that King Robert was old and fat. She let herself focus on the sensation of his mouth upon her breasts and his fingers between her legs. She let herself feel the pleasure the gods wanted her to feel.
~
The young lord came to her to learn a woman’s body. He was no stranger to pleasure but the soft flesh of women did not rouse him.
“I must marry,” he said, sipping the fine wine her mother stocked for clients. “I’ll not have Cersei’s younger boy inherit Storm’s End.”
“Close your eyes,” Alayaya whispered to him. She kissed his lips softly and grasped his manhood firmly.
He closed his eyes, but it was no good. He would not harden, not even after she’d used her mouth on him. She knew ways to give pleasure to a man who could not rise, but those methods would not help the young lord sire children on his noble bride.
“There is an apothecary, my lord, who can brew potions that will make you as hard as a rock whether you will it or not. Shall I procure you a sample of his wares?”
“Aye. If the beauty and skill of the city’s best whore are not enough, then I suppose it is time I tried potions.” He gave her a rueful smile.
He was very handsome. Alayaya would have very much liked to make love with such a man. But the gods had ordained Renly Baratheon to love the bodies of men and there was naught she could do about it.
~
The old maester reached his climax mere moments after she’d taken him into her body. Alayaya slid from atop him and draped her arm across his bony chest. She expected him to sleep, but he wanted to talk.
“Tell me about the highborn men who come to you.”
“It would not be right to spread tales, my lord.” She smiled coyly. “I keep their secrets as you would have me keep yours.”
“I am not asking for gossip, child. We maesters chronicle the events of our times for future generations so that they might learn.”
“You’ll write it down in a book?” If they knew how many of their noble lords and revered septons frequented whores, perhaps the people of Westeros would realize the folly of their beliefs.
“I’ll include it in the historical biographies we maesters keep for our own records.”
Alayaya thought of the things she could tell him. But it would not be wise. There were certain things a good whore did and did not do, and she did not tell her clients’ secrets. “I know many stories, Grand Maester. My mother told me stories of the land she came from. Would you like to hear one of those stories?”
Grand Maester Pycelle grew irritable. “I’ve read tomes on the Summer Isles. What I want is an intimate study of the important men of our time.”
Lord Stannis Baratheon had recently exiled all the whores from Dragonstone. If the maester insisted upon being told a tale, Alayaya would give him one. “He comes to me disguised as a serving man...” she began.
~
The new girl, Marei, was different from the other girls who worked at the brothel. She had the demure manner of a Westerosi lady and it made her very popular with the men. Most interestingly, she could read and write, skills that not all noblemen had mastered. Dancy was jealous of the attention Marei received, but Alayaya was intrigued by her.
“How did you learn to read?” She asked her one afternoon.
“The maester who sired me taught me,” Marei answered, after a long silence. “He could not claim me as his bastard, but he gave me what he could. He said knowledge was the most precious thing of all, and no one would ever be able to take it away from me.”
Alayaya wondered how Marei had come to work in a King’s Landing brothel but she did not ask. Such stories were rarely happy ones.
The king was hosting a tourney in honor of Prince Joffrey’s name day and visitors from all over the realm had descended on the city. It was a very busy time. Many of the lords and knights from inland holdings had never seen a person whose skin was as dark as Alayaya’s and her mother’s, and they were in high demand.
Alayaya was glad when the tourney ended and the visitors left the city. Some of the men had been rude enough to examine her body for differences other than color. It had happened before and it had been amusing the first few times, but being treated as a curiosity so often in such a short period had felt an unpleasant feeling.
To lift her spirits Alayaya spent a morning walking through the better merchant district. She deserved something nice. Oranges from Dorne? No, a trader friend of her mother’s brought oranges and fruits even more exotic whenever he stopped at this port. She considered a pair of silk slippers but the seller wanted more than she felt they were worth.
“A discount just for you!!” He called as she walked away.
Alayaya purchased the slippers at this new, reasonable price and continued down the street, pleased. There was a bookseller touting books from the Free Cities and beyond, and beside him was a merchant selling rolls of parchment and bottles of ink. Further down another bookseller sold books with blank pages, books yet to be written.
She imagined making a record of all the men who’d come to see her and all the girls she’d worked with, all the stories her mother had told her and all the sights she’d seen. She liked the thought of having such a thing. She could give it to her own daughter or son some day.
A thick leather-bound volume caught her eye. The cover had a border of silver and colored stones. It was truly a treasure. It cost a whole gold dragon but Alayaya did not mind paying.
That night she drew Marei aside. “Give me your time. I will pay same as a man.”
Marei seemed wary. “You are lovely, but I do not…”
Alayaya quickly reassured her. “No, sweetling, not for pleasure. I want you to teach me to read and write.”
Marei smiled. “That would be my pleasure.”
Alayaya kept her book in mind whenever the lessons proved difficult or her clients irksome, and even later when the high lords brought death to the brothel. She was going to possess a treasure soon.