Chapter Text
Lord Baelish observed two of his newest assets. One was Tanya, moving with familiarity with her trade. The other was Dahlia, a pale wide-eyed thing. Her beauty caught his attention, her red hair held it there. Then there was her gaze, darting around, not only in fear, but with awareness.
Intriguing.
Tanya quickly faded to the background.
oOoOo
To Dahlia, his gaze should have felt like a predator’s. But his eyes revealed nothing. Their dresses were thin, covering nothing and yet he looked… bored? What was he adding up in his mind?
Before she had time to answer the impossible question, his next command had her freeze.
oOoOo
“Take off her dress.”
It was a test: observe the obedience of one and the reaction of the other.
As expected, Tanya moved to her laces without hesitation. But Dahlia? She flinched and backed away.
Petyr’s eyes narrowed. Not in anger, as one could expect after such defiance. With sharp interest.
He got up from his desk. “You. What is your name?”
“Dahlia, m’lord.”
Her name was not as simple as the dirt she came from. The Dahlia was not a common weed.
“And where does a flower like Dahlia bloom?”
Like her name, he already knew the answer. He was simply making conversation.
"From the Blackwater, m’lord. Near the Rosby road.”
“Have you worked in a pleasure house before?”
“No, m’lord.”
“Have you ever even touched a man?”
Her eyes widened, then fell to the floor. “No, m’lord.”
Useless bookkeepers, he sighed inwardly.
Then he re-evaluted. An untouched beauty like her was a special find. And more importantly, there was intelligence behind those fearful eyes.
A dangerous thing. Unless directed.
He waved his hand. “Leave us.”
Tanya left without a word.
“Stand.”
Dahlia obeyed.
“Now. Remove your dress.”
She took a sharp breath, but heeded.
The dress fell to her feet. Her eyes moved from the dress, to the ceiling and back to the floor. Anywhere but him.
Her stubbornness coaxed a smirk from Petyr.
oOoOo
Even while avoiding his gaze, she noticed the smirk, enjoying what he probably read as fluster. But she was not shy. Her father had made it clear she was livestock. If she wasn’t standing naked before this lord, it’d be a lesser one who found her pretty enough to overlook her low birth.
But winter was coming. Her father’s crops had died, and he needed the coin.
So, it was Baelish she stood before. She was not a blushing maiden, but she refused to look at him with docile eyes.
oOoOo
“You know you are a beauty, don’t you?
She kept avoiding his eyes. “I am honored, m’lord.”
“You might be the second most beautiful girl I’ve laid eyes on.”
While she still avoided his eyes, her own narrowed, a slight furrow on her brow.
Caught that, did you?
“I am honored, m’lord.”
He grew bored of her practiced lines. “Look at me,” he commanded. She finally met his eyes. “Speak your mind.”
“Who is the first most beautiful girl?”
“A red-haired woman, like yourself." He paused. "A boy’s fancy though a man seldom forgets his first love. You are prettier than her. But beauty is more than a face.”
Her eyes lit with intrigue. But not from the flattery. She was impressed, clearly. Easily swayed by a simple original thought, like most smallfolk. Through her eyes, held more thought than most of them.
But she had forgotten she was standing naked and humble before him. He couldn't allow that.
“Tell me. Have you ever touched yourself?”
She blinked rapidly, shifting gears. “No, m’lord.”
“Why not?”
She cleared her throat. “I come from a small farm and lived among my many siblings. Besides, it was not encouraged.”
“I am encouraging it now.”
“What do you mean?”
He nodded, by raising his chin upwards. “Touch yourself.”
Her eyes widened. “Right here?”
“You may take a seat if it helps.”
oOoOo
She moved to sit on the chaise, her movements uncertain and slow. She looked to him for reassurance. A stupid thing to do. He said nothing, just leaned on the desk, waiting.
When her hand found her private parts, it was clumsy and awkward.
His eyes never left hers. And revealed nothing. Fully dressed, the townsmen would leer at her. Here he was, watching her do… this and yet was completely unbothered!
She couldn’t help herself. “Do you enjoy watching?”
“You are an asset, dear. I cannot have you fumble. My clients expect a certain finesse. You must know your own body to master theirs.”
“So you feel nothing?” Her brows furrowed, but puzzled rather than offended.
“If you could read me from a look, I’d be a very poor player. But by all means, keep trying, I enjoy the game.”
She tilted her head, thinking. “I’ve heard men only want one thing. That they can’t help themselves. But you don’t seem like that.”
“I am not like most men.” He smirked, indulging her and his own ego.
“What are you like then?”
The smirk vanished, the question too genuine perhaps. “You lack focus. Touch yourself and make an actual effort.”
She tried, but her fingers still moved awkwardly. “Is this pleasing to you at all?”
“While I’m glad are eager to please me, this is about you. And your future in my establishment.”
She held back a sigh. She was bored with this dull friction. What was her hand supposed to do? Her mind, however, was fully engaged. Seeking answers about him.
His breath was annoyingly even and his face painfully neutral. He tracked every little reaction of hers but gave nothing of himself away. It felt unfair.
He admitted he found her beautiful. And it was genuine, or else he would have called her the first most.
But she was painfully aware of her beauty already. Her father, a simple farmer, had little else to barter with, but his lovely daughter. Never let her walk alone. Hid her from the local boys. Not out of love though: he couldn’t allow anyone to spoil the goods.
But his eyes had none of the lust she was used to. His eyes were cold, like he was simply figuring out how to use her. She desperately needed to uncover his motives. Not to survive here, but because he didn't fit into any category of people she had observed in the past.
“Lord Baelish?”
He inhaled slowly. “One question.”
She had many and most of them were inappropriate. She settled with the easiest.
“Why did you send the the other woman out? I have no idea what I am doing. She did.”
“She is a finished product. You are not. Your beauty is obvious to anyone. But your mind is sharper than it should be. That can be useful but only if I can... direct it.”
Back on the farm, her intelligence was useless. This was the first time anyone cared for it.
She couldn’t hide the smile that tugged. “You really mean that?”
oOoOo
The pure wonder in her voice had charm. It wasn’t the fawning of a whore seeking her owner’s favor. But for her own good, he had to correct her, sooner than later.
“I am not in the habit of wasting false flattery on whores.”
He watched the light in her eyes ebb. He almost felt sorry. The type of passing sadness one might feel for a beautiful flower about to wither.
But it was what she was now. She had to accept that.
“Your looks will get men through the doors. But that mind of yours will have them returning. If I can teach you to apply it. Now… I’ve answered your question. Focus on your task.”
She sighed. Almost rolled her eyes. It was… oddly endearing. She clearly found the task full, eyes fixed on him instead. Hopelessly trying to figure him out.
He almost let himself enjoy it. That adoring gaze of someone who recognized brilliance when she saw it.
But this was work and he could indulge her no longer: his eyes hardened with an impatient warning.
Her own widened with understanding.
And yet still defied him. “I’m not sure what you want me to do.”
“You are an intelligent woman. Figure it out.”
Her fingers began to move again, clumsy and uncertain. No finesse.
His sigh was dragged out this time. “You are overthinking it. If you can’t get it right, pretend. Just don’t overdo it.”
“Pretend? What do you mean?”
“Moan, act as though you are delighted with pleasure.”
Dahlia blinked, startled. “But…why?”
He did not answer. Instead, he watched her — the confusion in her eyes. He could have her screaming with the help of his hand.
It shouldn't have mattered. This was the procedure. But the thought of being the one, urged him on.
“Enough. Just… observe and learn.”
He rose from his desk and closed the distance. Dahlia almost flinched but stopped herself.
Good: she was learning.
He sat down, then patted his lap. He held out his arms, not to comfort but to make the position possible. When she hesitated, he beckoned her closer with his index finger.
“M’lord, I can’t.”
His expression hardened.
oOoOo
Dahlia swallowed, her eyes wide and unsure. Fixed on the fine fabric he wore and expected her to sully with her naked form. She couldn’t possibly…? But that stern look left no room for argument.
So, she sat down.
His hand came quickly and without warning.
No fumbling search. Just going directly for what was, for all intents and purposes, his.
His touch was skilled and precise. His finger circled this spot that had her jump in surprise.
“Easy.” He steadied her, with his other hand on her waist; his touch there warm in contrast to where his other hand was.
He continued his relentless rubbing. Kept pressing the spot that had her legs weakened and her spine arch.
She could no longer hold it on. This desperate noise came out. “Nnngh—”
“There. That’s it. That’s what customers pay to hear. What you feel now is genuine, administered by my hand. They will not be as generous. You’ll learn to fake it.”
His lesson barely registered as her spine arched off his lap.
She whimpered under his touch, the sounds pathetic. She was mortified. What was the most embarrassing moment of her life, he hardly registered. Treated the ridiculous sounds she made, like mere background noise.
His finger worked her so insistently, she lost all control. She hated it. All while his lesson continued. She absorbed nothing.
That tiny nub he rubbed, spasmed and pulsed. She screamed out as her back failed her entirely.
He allowed her to rest her head on his shoulder. An act, she considered mercy.
She shuddered through the rest of it, her legs trembling as the last pulses faded.
When it was over, she lay there—bare and breathless against his chest. Her hand twitched, wanting to reach for his where it rested on her abdomen. To hold it. But the impulse was stupid. He was her employer. Why did she even want that?
The warmth vanished when he withdrew, wiping his hand clean on the chaise.
And before she caught her breath, he gripped her waist, pulling her off his lap. He then stood, straightened his sleeve and looked down at her pitiful form.
“In two days, you will be bathed and dressed. Speak to Ros, the other redhead.”
She blinked rapidly. He gave her a second to focus, before continuing.
“I could have her prepare you for Lord Rowan. A rich tyrant with a taste for virgins. He’d pay a great deal of coins for a night with you. But…” His eyes looked her up and down. “I see potential in you. So I’ll keep you to myself — for now.
He made sure her attention was undivided. “Consider it a privilege.”
Then he turned and sat down at his desk like nothing had happened. Immersed in his work, not even acknowledging her presence.
She slipped into her dress and left the room.
She found the others in the common area.
“She is back”, the youngest blonde whispered.
“She is still breathing. And her cheeks are all red.” Tanya smirked.
The one Dahlia assumed was Ros, spoke next. “You must have made quite the impression, dear. He never trains us alone, unless it is to reprimand.”
Tanya leaned forward. "Maybe that's what happened. That flinch. Do that again and he might sell your contract to some lord who likes his girls to cry. Was he angry?"
Dahlia was taken aback by her bluntness, but took a breath before responding:
“He didn’t seem angry. But I find him hard to read. He used his hand, showed me how to—” she stopped herself, still shy. Foolish in hindsight. To them, these topics were as common, if not more, as the weather.
The youngest blonde leaned forward. “That means he favors her, no? He has never touched any of us. Maybe you’ll even get your own chamber.”
Ros cut in. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, dear. He doesn’t favor. He decides if you are worth the coin. You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”
“Yes…”
“Lord Baelish is not a kind man. If he is generous, there is a reason.”
“He told me Lord Rolan would pay well, but that he’d keep me for himself. Does he do that often?”
“Lord Rowan,” Tanya laughed with a scoff. “You are inexperienced. Men like that. Soon enough, he will be bored of you. They all do.”
“Don’t mind her.” The blond girl smiled, “If he favors you, even for a bit, that’s a good thing.”
“Favors change, so do men.” Ros warned. “I find it strange. That he’d take you for himself. He once told me he was saving himself for another. He even fought a duel for her once.”
“A redhead?” Dahlia asked, connecting the dots.
Ros nodded. “But a lady, unlike us. Be careful, dear. Men don’t like to be reminded of what they can’t have.”
She heard the warning, but it seemed useless. It was easier to find comfort in the younger one's hope, than Ros' worry. The latter wouldn't really change anything.
She looked to Ros. “He told me you’d prepare me for him in two days.”
Ros rose. “Of course, sweetheart. But for now, let’s get you some food and I’ll show you where to sleep.”
Tanya’s eyes rolled. But Ros’ warmth meant everything.