A Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire Fanfiction
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Summary
With flowing pale hair and pale grey eyes that could almost pass for lavender, (A)lys mistress bought her bond as a child thinking a girl with a Targaryen look and all the musical skill the Last Dragon Rhaegar was said to possess would be a valuable addition to her establishment.
But it was that musical skill alone that saved (A)Lys from a Flea Bottom whorehouse when a tragic accident left her face scarred and her 'undesireable'. It was her musical skill that let her earn her keep in one of King's Landing's most elite pleasure houses.
And it was her musical skill that drew the attention of a young member of the Kingsguard.
Attention that would change her life forever.
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Here we go...more ideas for a fandom I never planned on writing much of anything in....
Okay, gist of this one: Lys or Alys (undecided since I like both) was sold as a child to a high-end brothel in King's Landing with the intent that she would one day work there thanks to her Targaryen look (likely b/c her mother was one of Aerys' many mistresses....make from that what you will), but an accident leaves her scarred and not 'pretty' enough. It's only thanks to her musical skill that the establishment's owners decide to keep her instead of pawning her off elsewhere.
Cue the romantic interest and relationship that develops underlaying the chaos that the events of the series fosters. Undecided on precisely who yet, since I have potential scenarios that work for both Oberyn and Jaime. However, I'm leaning to Jaime, atm, hence why the summary reflects that....
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Excerpt
The room stank of sharp incense and bitter sweat, earthy musk and the particular pungency of sex. But Lys was long since used to it. Her head fell forward, her eyes half-lidded as she let their focus ebb in favour of the feel of the supple lute strings beneath her slender fingers and the sound of its melodic tones in her ears.
It was easy to lose herself to her music despite the shrill, tinkling laughter of the girls and barking guffaws of the men come in search of their services.
She forced back a sigh, dipping her head once more so that her pale hair fell like a soft curtain to hide her disfigurement. She was fortunate and she knew it. While the scar that cut across the outer edge of her left eye, puckering the skin and dragging her lid down with it, made her too distasteful to 'properly' serve the brothel that she had been indentured to, neither had she been traded off to a poorer one where her disfigurement would raise no objection. Her skill at coaxing music from whichever instrument was placed in her hands saw to that. She had still retained value even if her physical beauty was now marred. And because of that, she had been spared from being cast out onto the street or worse. Lord Baelish and the Madam that oversaw the establishment in his stead both claimed that, when she played, the men that passed the threshold tended to let their gold flow more freely. That her music lulled them and softened them to the girls' trade, making them eager and uninhibited.
Or moreso, at least, than they had already been inclined to be, given that they would not have ventured inside had they not already been in search of willing flesh.