Chapter 19: Sedu Arts On A Whore?

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  The narrow alleys of King's Landing were like a maze. It was a custrophobic warren of stone, grime, and the biink of humanity. It was holy gross. Do I really want this pce back? Yikes.

  The smell was unbearable. Fortunately, it did have an end. I walked through them with my hood pulled low as I navigated the twisting streets away from the smell. This was far different than Vontis, at least on the part I’d visited. The sights of this city, a and medieval, were fasating. Structures like this I’d only seen in pictures, and heavy CGI works. Dirty cobblestones beh my boots, wooden beams that jutted out from the upper floors of buildings to create strange, leaning streets, all of that was a strange woo my modern mind, even with Viserys’ memories.

  The city stank of unwashed bodies and rot, with every er harb dark, unknown filth. Yet there was life here, too. The poor, the rich, the beggars, and the lords. All lives that’d one day belong under my foot… soon. I turned down another alley, the din of the marketpce fading behind me as I approached my destination—Littlefinger’s brothel.

  It was evening. The sun had set halfway, and the moon was visible. People were starting to buzz around the pce. There was something darkly amusing about all this as I stood uhe shadow of the building, smiling up at it.

  Here I was, Viserys Targaryen, the st of a fallen dynasty, entering the ir of a man who was meant to be a major character in a story I had oched on a s. With iions to recim the dynasty.

  “The revival of my kingdom is starting from a brothel,” I shook my head.

  The door opened with a groan as I stepped inside. Immediately, the heavy, musky perfume of the pce ed around me, an overp blend of sweat, floral oils, and the fai hint of inse. Girls of all types lounged around, ughing and talking, their voices merging into a soft, stant hum.

  I strode to the ter of the room, avoiding bumping into people, while my eyes trailed zily across the s. The madam on duty was a stout woman with heavily painted lips, roached me, her smile practiced and smooth. “Wele, my lord,” she purred. “What might you be in the mood for?”

  “The best girl you have?” I asked simply, watg the room.

  The madam’s eyebrows rose, and there was a moment of silence before a young girl—a blonde no older thay—giggled softly. “ you even pay for the best?” she said, her tone half teasing, half skeptical, given my choice of clothes.

  I couldn’t reply as a sharp sp cracked through the room. The madam had moved so fast that even I almost missed it. The young blonde gasped, clutg her cheek, eyes wide as the madam rounded on her, her gaze like steel. “Mind your manners,” she snapped before turning bae, all smiles again.

  The girls began to move closer, surrounding me in a swirl of sts and fabrics. “There’s no o, my lord,” the madam said smoothly, gesturing to the array before me. “All are worthy. Do you like blondes? Redheads? Somethie, perhaps? I find the best of your taste.”

  Hands reached for me, delicate fingers brushing my arms and chest as if to draw my attention. I observed their curves, groping their breasts. “Tall girls, short ones,” one of them said, her eyes gleaming. “You’ll find what you need here.”

  Will I, really? Of course, I wasn't here to get my dick wet. I had Kinvara for that. This was a strategic visit.

  I was here for someone, and as I gnced around, sing the faces, I soon found her—a girl sitting by the far side of the room. She was different from the rest.

  I bet on any other day, she’d have acted the same as them, but today she wasn’t trying to catch my eye. She wasn’t even looking this way, too dazed as she was tying her auburn hair back. Ros the Whore. I remembered her from the show, though now she looked softer and more fragile, as well as prettier, her falined by the cruelties that would one day e her way.

  How beautiful for a whore, I had to admit.

  Spoiler

  [colpse]I raised my head, nodding in her dire, ahe collective sigh of several girls around me—a soft, near-imperceptible sound of disappoi. The madam hesitated, her eyes flig toward Ros, then bae. “Ah… well…”

  “My lord,” the blonde girl from earlier began, her voice almost pleading, “Ros isn’t feelioday. Perhaps another?”

  Before she could tinue, Ros’s voice cut through the murmurs. “I’m fine, Lyris,” she said, standing, her face expressionless. She stepped forward, her posture straight. Her body was great, and her eyes locked on mih a quiet defiance. “I’ll take the job.”

  The madam gave her a wary look but said nothing. I held back a smile, merely nodding, allowio lead the way. Ros moved ahead, her steps steady, her hauring for me to follow her up the winding staircase that led to the private chambers.

  I followed, the irls parting for us, their eyes following our ast—a mix of curiosity, envy, and perhaps even pity. Ros led me down a narrow hallway, opened a door to one of the rooms, and stepped aside for me to enter first.

  The door closed softly behind us, and the night and the city waited just beyond.

  *****

  “So what would you like to start with, ser?” Ros asked, her voice smooth and practiced, leading me ihe room. She gently nudged me onto the bed, her movements deliberate, her demeanor polished with years of experience.

  The room smelled faintly of inse—a thick sweethat attempted to disguise the musty uone of too many bodies passing through. The bed, with its rich crimson drapes and silkes, looked inviting but somehow hollow, like all things gilded and hollowed out with use. Flickering dles in the ers threw shadows that danced across the stone walls, casting a certain warmth that wasn't truly there—a pce where charm ainess went hand in hand.

  Ros was smiling now, and to most, it would look sincere. But it was hard to a front of me—my stats, and perhaps just my experience, made it almost amusingly easy to see the edges of her weariness.

  She wore more makeup today than I imagined she normally would. A bit of powder under her eyes, too much kohl to hide what y beh.

  A swelling—the kind that came from tears shed not too long ago. I had heard the news of Joffrey's test cruelty while wandering the city earlier: the sughter of bastards, the senseless killing of children, of mothers left wailing ireets. It wasn’t hard to recall the se where Ros cried over one of those unfortunate babies—a friend’s child. Just like in the shoetyr Baelish... well, he hadn’t made it any easier.

  This is good, I thought, the timing is just perfect. Holding back a smile, I corrected her, “I’m no Ser,” I said. “What do you usually do for your ers?”

  Alright, crazy question. How do you seduce a whore?

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  Author his is a tribute to Ros, I liked her character a lot, and she didn’t deserve her end. We’ll be fog on some influence-building chapters from here on out, which might feel slow but necessary for the story. This is not a ‘go kill king, take throory, after all. But we’ll focus oion soon again!