Dark Past, Bright Future (A Tyrion Lannister Love Story)

Lyra

(WARNINGS for this chapter: mentions of sexual things.)

Lyra sighed heavily as her last patron of the night left. It was just after dawn. This wasn't how she envisioned her life, but what else could she do? The young woman had no other real world skills to speak of. She hadn't been raised to work. So, when circumstances dictated, she had to find something. The only thing she was deemed fit to do was to spread her legs for paying customers. So, she'd entreated Littlefinger. It wasn't all bad. After all, as long as she kept the patrons happy and she didn't besmirched Littlefinger's good name, Lyra was free to come and go as she pleased although it hadn't always been that way.

Before Queen Daenerys conquered the city and claimed the Iron Throne, the women and men in the brothels were forced to stay day and night, effectively making them the same as slaves. Now, thanks to the Queen, they were no longer treated as such. Yes, they still had to please the patrons, but they got to take some of what they were paid and they were not forced to live in the brothel. They could have land and homes if they wanted. And Lyra had.

She ran her hand through her long brown locks, trying her best to straighten her hair before leaving the brothel. Not that it mattered. The people of King's Landing knew exactly who and what she was and most looked down on her. The women in particular. Still, Lyra did her job and she did it well, but she left every morning at some point. She'd worked it out with her employer.

She approached the door of the brothel and Littlefinger gave her one of his calculated smiles. She returned it before noticing the man next to him. Her eyes widened. She'd never seen Lord Tyrion Lannister before, but everyone knew who he was. The Queen's Hand. Lyra gave him a small curtsy. "I want her today, Lord Baelish," he whispered and Lyra cast a glance at the whoremonger.

He sighed. "I am afraid she is not available this morning." Without another word, Lyra left. She walked through the streets of the city, her hazel eyes scanning every alley to make certain she was safe. She had one goal. To get home safely. There was no other choice for her. So, she kept a dagger near her at all times, praying to every god there was that she would never have to use it.

Meanwhile, back in the brothel, Tyrion was questioning Littlefinger. "Since when do your girls leave during the early hours of the morning, Lord Baelish?" Tyrion was in need of release, both physical and mental, and the young woman had caught his attention. He'd never seen her before, perhaps because she was otherwise engaged whenever he appeared. He could just imagine that light brown hair fanned across a pillow after they laid together. Her hazel gaze holding his as they worshipped each other's bodies.

"She and I have a bargain," was all Littlefinger said, pulling Tyrion from his thoughts. "I see. And why?" Littlefinger simply smiled again,ignoring Tyrion's question. "Could you at least give me a name?" Littlefinger gestured for another woman to approach. "Take Mila again instead."The buxom raven-haired woman gave Tyrion a sly smile as she reached her handout for him. "A name, Baelish." As Mila began to lead Tyrion away,Littlefinger gave in and called out, "Lyra. Her name is Lyra. Try not to upset my dear Mila, will you? Not good for business." Tyrion trailed after Mila, but his mind was elsewhere. His mind was focused on the only one of Littlefinger's employees he hadn't had the pleasure of meeting. Lyra. The name would haunt him until he spoke to her and perhaps even longer.