Simple Servant - Game of Thrones

Chapter Seven

Braavos.

Rosie. (Margaery Tyrell)

"When I saw Meralyn's girls wearing those new dresses," her client said as she ran her long fingers along the gown presented on a mannequin, "I just knew I had to have one. Your work is truly exquisite, Lady Rosalind. The silk is like water under my fingers... They'd pay me fortunes to keep it on." The girl was young and lovely, no older than Rosie, with black hair, light brown skin, and full breasts stuffed into a dress that was two sizes too small.

"Thank you, Lady Bellegerre," Rosie said. She wasn't unaware of who this girl in her little shop was. "A woman of your renown complimenting my work... truly, an honour."

The Black Pearl was the most celebrated courtesan in the city, with no rival but the Nightingale, who was said to be the most beautiful woman in the world. The girls of House Otherys, descendants of the first Black Pearl—a smuggler—shared blood with the dragons of Valyria through Aegon the Unworthy. That was likely the thing that drew men to the Black Pearl more than any other prostitute in Braavos.

"You flatter me, my lady," said the Black Pearl, flashing a white smile. "One might think you are flirting." She turned away from the gown and looked at Rosie. "Did you know that the love goddess beseeches women to exhibit their sexuality to men and women both?"

"I did not know that," Rosie admitted.

"Hm," hummed the Black Pearl. "Well, now you do." She touched the gown delicately. "How much would you be willing to part with this beauty for, Lady Rosalind?"

"For you, my lady," said Rosie, "I will do so for fifty Heads."

The Black Pearl barked a laugh. "Ha! And ruin my image by thieving?" She jested. "No, give me the correct price. I would pay a hundred—a thousand! My barge and my services, too."

"The honour of dressing the Black Pearl amounts to a thousand sales," Rosie said. And it was true; if the other courtesans saw the Black Pearl in one of her gowns, they would come to purchase dresses of their own, and Rose's Salon would find itself heavily understaffed. "I will take seventy Heads, my lady, but no more than that."

"And what of my services?" The woman glided her hand up the front of her bodice, leaning forward and pulling the top down with a finger, giving Rosie a few of the top of her full breasts. "I'd be loathsome to leave you without a gift for being so generous with me."

Rosie smiled, "My love would have to join us."

The Black Pearl's indigo eyes flashed, dark with hunger. "Your love is the one people in the streets are whispering about," she said. "They say he's climbing the Sealord's ranks at an alarming rate. Qarro Volentin fears for his title as the First Sword. He told me as much."

"My Arthur is perfectly content as he is now," Rosie explained. "He does not care for serving as the First Sword. Too much time away from home—and the pay is not enough to leave me on my own for so long, he insists." It made her smile to remember their talk.

"Quite the man, then," said the Black Pearl, turning to the gown again. She cast a sneaky glance at Rosie. "Your Arthur is more than welcome to join us, Lady Rosalind. Alas, he's not here... unless you're hiding him, in which case, you're a cruel woman." Bellegere laughed as sweet as fireplums on a warm day. "Maybe when I return for my next gown?" It was more of an invitation than a jape—Rosie could hear it in the woman's tone.

"As exciting as that sounds, I will have to speak to my love about your offer before agreeing to anything," Rosie replied. "So, seventy Heads?" The Black Pearl flashed her pearly whites.

She'd been working on another gown of purple velvet and golden samite when a ding rang in her little shop. Setting her fabrics aside, Rosie got to her feet and crossed the private room to the painted-purple door. Arthur whirled as she pulled it open and smiled when he saw her. She greeted him with a kiss as she unbuckled his swordbelt and slid off his purple jerkin.