Gendry's brow appeared permanently furrowed, and while his body remained seated on the velvet settee beside Sorcha, his mind was far away. He'd withdrawn from the conversation in a steady decline of contributions. Neither woman could blame him. He was processing the truth Nour revealed. Tobho Mott was not the monster Gendry's younger self had painted him out to be. He hadn't cast his apprentice aside like a lump of coal. Tobho was the only father Gendry had ever known, and for so long, he thought himself a fool for trusting the man. In reality, Tobho had never stopped caring for him, and what Gendry perceived as a slight was an act of love.

"Have you managed to find lodgings in the city?" Nour asked over her goblet of wine. The deep charcoal smudges along her eyelids and waterline made the action seem more severe than it was. Gendry didn't respond, and Sorcha shifted forward in her seat, placing her clasped hands atop her lap. The skirt of her dress had ridden up to mid-calf as she sat, far from a well-fitting gown.

"No, not yet." Sorcha examined Gendry's face in her periphery. It was pulled taut with worry, his gaze fixated on the cracks in the floorboard without seeing them. "We came straight from our ship to find you." Nour frowned, glancing towards the window thoughtfully. She tilted her head to the side and sucked in a breath through her teeth with a hiss.

"The inns are fully booked. Every lord, lady, and their servants are traveling across the whole of Westeros to see the happy couple wed." The words, 'happy couple', were spat as if her wine had turned to vinegar. Nour shook her head pityingly. "I'd let you both stay here, but Lord Baelish would have my head if he found out I let a man stay in the brothel without paying his dues." Sorcha played with her fingers resting in her lap, hoping that Gendry would jump back into the conversation before she said something to get them into trouble. He'd specifically instructed her not to speak unless necessary. She thought she was handling herself rather well, considering she'd never been on land before. It had been good practice to speak with the sailors aboard The Aurora, but they weren't exactly the picture of civility.

"We don't want to cause you trouble, but if not here or at the inns, then where?" If they couldn't find a place to sleep, Sorcha wasn't sure where that would leave them in the grand scheme. How would she rescue Dyvon if she couldn't even find a proper shelter? Nour looked Gendry up and down. He didn't notice.

"It is my understanding that Tobho Mott never took on another apprentice after you left." Gendry snapped to attention with those words. His startled expression matched the blush of embarrassment across his cheeks. "There should be a spare room available at the forge." Nour leaned back and sipped her goblet with one brow raised. Gendry wasn't sure what to make of this. He'd never thought his mentor cared for him more than the services he offered.

"We didn't leave things on the best of terms," Gendry spoke as if stepping across eggshells, treading carefully on every syllable. "I thought he was selling me off." Nour scoffed loudly and held her goblet with a loose wrist.

"Well, unless you'd like to sleep in the streets, I'd suggest you make amends." Nour's tone and presence were one of authority, and judging by her mannerisms, she was not often challenged by anyone other than the Lord who employed her. She jutted her chin towards Sorcha. "She is welcome to stay with me while you sort your accommodations. It looks as if you had a trying journey." Sorcha didn't miss the way Nour eyed her bare feet and misfitting gown. "We'll get you cleaned up and into some proper clothes. The fashions here are far different from the rest of Westeros."

"I haven't seen him in four years, Nour. I can't just show up on his doorstep and ask for my old room back." Gendry felt not unlike a pouting child complaining to its mother. Nour rose a brow in a silent challenge.

"You hadn't seen me for just as long, yet here we sit. Mott cares about you. He wouldn't have risked his neck for you if he didn't." Gendry pursed his lips in thought. After a few moments of silent deliberation, he looked over at Sorcha.

"Will you be alright here for a few hours?" Sorcha offered a reassuring nod.

"I'm sure I can find something to do." She smiled at Nour, who returned the gesture with just the slightest hint of mischief.

"Or someone," Nour winked suggestively, and Gendry grew three inches as his hackles rose. Nour held up a hand and let out a good-natured laugh. "I'm only joking. I promise, no one will lay a finger on her." She found his reaction both amusing and informative. "Unless she wants them to, of course." This was directed towards Sorcha, but again, Nour smirked at the scowl that marred her old friend's face. Gendry stood abruptly, being sure to tower over Nour in a show of authority. She ignored him in favor of another sip of wine and a subtle laugh. He was just as easy to rile up now as he was in their youth. Straightening his overcoat and pants, Gendry turned to Sorcha with a much softer expression.

"I'll be back to fetch you before the night is out. Stay close to Nour." He didn't wait for a response and instead strode briskly towards the door and pulled it open with a bit more force than necessary. It swung shut with a sharp bang, and the women were left to exchange looks of mild amusement.

"He's certainly fun to play with, isn't he?" Nour chuckled as Sorcha shifted uneasily beneath her piercing gaze. It was just them now. There would be no backup if she fumbled her act. "When we were children, I used to try my very best to embarrass him wherever we went. It's remarkably easy, even now." Nour smiled with nostalgia for the time before their worlds fell to pieces and innocence was snatched away.

"I'm glad you've reunited after all this time." Sorcha's expression softened. She recognized the fondness in Nour. It was the same as her own when speaking of Dyvon. Nour lifted the corners of her lips in a bittersweet smile.

"As am I. It's been a very long while since I've felt at home like I do with him. There's not much time for comfort within these walls." Those were some of the truest words she felt she'd spoken since her father died. It had been three cold hard years of pain, manipulation, and groveling to get her into the position of Madame. Clearing her throat, Nour set aside her goblet and stood with a flutter of skirts. "The baths should be empty this time of day. I can't stand to look at that dress for another moment. Where did you find something so ghastly?" Sorcha looked sheepishly down at her gown. Compared to what the other women in the brothel wore, it was practically a rag. The whores were not draped in finery by any means, but the clothes they did wear, were tailored to fit.

"I borrowed it from a friend." Sorcha tugged at the ill-fitting midsection, and the fabric tented a good inch. "My other clothes were... no longer suitable."

"If this is the suitable option, I'd loathe seeing the other dress."

Steam rose in silver tendrils from the massive empty bath. Sorcha was practically giddy with excitement. Her body yearned for the waters, and the dry air was suddenly unbearable. Her skin was dry as desert sand, and it took all of her self-control not to scratch at her arms like she was covered in sea lice. Nour stood behind her to unlace the corset, which was taking far longer than Sorcha could tolerate.

"Who in the fuck did up these laces?" Nour huffed as she tilted her head to the side for a better look at the knotted dress. Nimble fingers unwound them while Sorcha simply stood and swooned over the awaiting bath like a noble lady over a shining knight.

"Um," Sorcha looked over her shoulder slightly, "Gendry had to help a bit."

"That explains so very much." Nour chuckled softly. "Have you ever dressed yourself before, or have you always had servants do it for you?" Nour knew enough handmaidens to hear how inept noblewomen were at the simplest of tasks. Their every whim was served from the moment they left the womb. There was no need to learn to wash their linens, make up a bed, cook, clean, or even empty their chamber pots. It was all taken care of, often behind closed doors. It was a life Nour at once pitied, scorned, and craved.

"No, I haven't"

"What is your family name? Perhaps I've heard of you?"

"Oh," Sorcha fumbled over her words. What was she meant to say? Not only was she not of noble birth, but she wasn't of human birth at all. Sorcha's body flushed with heat. It was fortunate that her back was to Nour, for the sheer panic would've given her away in a second. "Hornigold."

"Hornigold." Nour let the name roll off her tongue slowly and meticulously, as if checking it over for authenticity. "I've never heard of it. You're from the Riverlands, no?" Sorcha didn't trust herself to speak without her voice shaking like a sail in the wind. She gave a hurried nod. "Why has a lady as privileged as you ended up in the company of our dear Gendry? If I were in your position, I can't say I'd leave of my own free will."

"Well, I--" The narrative of her and Gendry's marriage was useless at this point. Nour had proved an observant woman, and if Sorcha lied, she was sure to be caught in a net of her own design. She decided upon the only option she had -- the truth. Well, some of the truth. "I'm searching for my sister. She was taken from our home by a group of men. I left home on my own to search for her, admittedly a rash decision. I ran into Gendry on my journey, and when we realized our common destination, he gallantly offered to let me travel with him."

"That does sound like him. I am very sorry to hear about your sister. You are fortunate that Gendry was the one to find you. Most men would've used you for a good fuck and left you to die." Sorcha shivered and hoped it was passable as a chill on her bare skin. Her dress slipped off in one cascading motion and pooled around her feet. She was half expecting Nour to gasp at her nudity as Gendry had, but the Madame didn't bat an eye. Nour held out a hand, and Sorcha accepted, letting her help her into the bath.

"He is a kind man." Sorcha nodded in agreement. Gendry's kindness and decency had been proved time and time again along their journey.

"A rarity, indeed." Nour's whisper carried a sharp edge to it. Sorcha wondered how many lesser men she'd encountered at the brothel.

From the moment her toes dipped into the steaming salt waters, her body began to unfold like lily petals beneath sunbeams. Her muscles relaxed into its warmth after weeks of hard travel and drylands. However hard she tried to meld herself into the life of a human, certain things would never change. Her body yearned for the sea, her very soul called to the waves, and it drew her back like the arms of a lover. Every day took a toll, whether it be on her sore muscles or aching heart. The sigh that left her was grand and unbridled. Nour kept a hold of her arm until she was settled onto the bench submerged in the bath. Sorcha expelled a sigh of relief, her muscles melting like a cat in the sun.

"I suppose this is quite a luxury after your journey." Nour settled onto her knees behind Sorcha with a soft smile.

"It is." Sorcha's voice was airy and soft like the wind. Nour reached forward, and dipped a bar of lye into the water, then ran a coarse bristled brush along its surface. Sorcha watched her work with interest but tried her best to pretend she knew what was happening. Nour placed a gentle hand on Sorcha's arm, just enough that her fingertips could guide its direction until it was resting in her hands.

Sorcha savored the coarse bristles against her skin, scrubbing away the filth that had settled on her skin and refused to wash away with the meager sponge baths provided by The Aurora. Soap suds trailed bubbles along her onyx skin. Nour was surprisingly tender in her touches, never too rough or hurried, but firm enough that Sorcha was comforted by the steady pressure.

When it came time to wash her legs and feet, Nour demonstrated the proper technique, and Sorcha clumsily tried to mimic it. She somehow managed to fall face-first into the bath with a loud splash. A bubble of melodic laughter came from Nour's perfect lips, and the Madame couldn't recall a time when she'd felt so carefree within the bird cage that was Little Finger's brothel.

The Seven answered her prayers, even if she never dared utter them aloud. Even in the darkest of hours, her wishes had remained only thought, for she feared if they were spoken in breath, Little Finger would find a way to snatch her hope away as he had her innocence.

Nour felt the familiar pang of envy in her chest as she massaged her fingers through Sorcha's thick coils. This woman had such freedom and privilege, such beauty without the taint of wicked men's touch. Nour was not a woman pure. She was battered and stained, hardened from years of abuse and ambition. Had she been born someone else, perhaps she would be as shiny and untarnished as Sorcha.

A great cry of pleasure drifted in through the crack beneath the doors. Nour seemed not to notice, but Sorcha's brows knit together with a mix of concern and intrigue. She tilted her head back to meet Nour's pensive gaze.

"Does it hurt? What are they doing out there?" She asked, her voice so matter of fact, that Nour wasn't sure she'd heard her correctly.

"Do you mean, sex?" The Madame couldn't contain her startled laughter.

"Is that what it's called? There's an awful lot of moaning and screaming involved." Nour sank back on her heels with astonishment, her hands pulling back to rest on her lap with a sheen of oils yet to be soaked up by Sorcha's hair.

"You really don't know?" Her jaw went slack as she took in the clueless woman before her. Sorcha swallowed, a panic buzzing working its way up her throat. "I'd almost forgotten how little noble families tell their daughters." Evidently, the culture of noble families was working in Sorcha's favor.

"This is my first time leaving home. There are many things I do not know about the world." Sorcha spoke each word slowly and deliberately as if testing the temperature of a cup of tea with a tiny sip before gulping it down.

"It is at once a blessing and a curse to live so sheltered." Nour shook her head in disbelief. "You go through life untouched by shadows that dance about the light your title casts. At some point, that light will wink out of existence, and all of those shadows will swallow you up. If you don't know how to live amongst them, they will consume you." It was a universal truth that Nour herself had learned the hard way. She was never as naive as Sorcha. Nour and her father were not strangers to hardship and danger, but it wasn't until his death that she understood how deep those shadows ran.

Nour had seen horrors beyond comprehension, she'd been the horrors herself when survival dictated it. Everyone had a shadow nipping at their heels and no one could run from it forever. At some point, that shadow would overcome them, and one must choose to either live in harmony with the darkness or disappear entirely.

"And what they are doing, that's part of the shadows?" Sorcha's brows furrowed in question, her eyes studying every line of Nour's sculpted clay skin. The corners of Nour's lips curved in a solemn smile.

"It can be." Nour lost count of how many times she'd seen sex and lust wielded as a sword or a piercing arrow in a world of passion and rage. She'd been both the victim and the one to wield the blade. Each man or woman that Nour laid with was both a patron and a target. Every secret spoken within the walls of her brothel was as lucrative as the women spreading their legs. Whores were the crows of society, collecting messages and passing them along as a transaction. The only difference between secrets and gold was that, more often than not, people spent secrets without even realizing it.

"It's all about how you use it. It can be painful, but sometimes the pain is one with pleasure. Most times its pure ecstasy. The most powerful times I've found are shared with someone you trust and care for. Someone that when you look at them makes a fire ignite inside you." Nour's smile turned to a smirk with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "You and Gendry haven't slept together?"

"We slept in the same room on our journey here." Sorcha shrugged, running her palm along the surface of the steaming bath absently.

"I mean," Nour had to fight not to roll her eyes at how daft this woman was. "You two haven't had sex?" Sorcha's mind fixated on the writhing bodies of the atrium, the men slamming their hips against the space between their partner's legs, lips crashing together with desperation, hands stroking, pulling, caressing every inch of skin.

"No," she said simply. Now, her mind wandered to Gendry, his striking blue eyes and jet black hair. The way his hand felt in hers, how his lips had pressed against her forehead when he'd kissed her goodbye on The Aurora. The familiar bundle of nerves kicked up within her like a galloping horse. "I wouldn't know where to begin." Her body heated from within, a wave of something foreign rushing through her and culminating at the apex of her thighs. Her fingers itched to touch the spot, though Sorcha couldn't understand why. It was unlike any sensation she'd felt before. A burning, deep itch crawled up her spine and filled her stomach like a tidepool.

"Would you like to have sex with Gendry?" The question jolted through Sorcha, and the burn of desire flipped to panic.

"I do not know." Her expression tightened. There were so many reasons why the notion was absurd. The first of which being that they weren't even of the same species. Yet, Sorcha had legs, breasts, and all the parts the women in the brothel had. Perhaps it wasn't as absurd as she thought. Gendry was her friend, and despite her limited knowledge, something told her that friends didn't do what Nour was suggesting.

"When you're near him, does your heart begin to thump faster? Do your breath grow shallow and hitched? Do you want to reach out and run your fingers through his hair, along his jaw, and feel his bare skin against yours? When he touches you, you feel warm inside, like the sun itself has begun to burn from within?" There was a wistfulness to Nour's voice a longing that could only be remedied by the love of another.

"What does that mean?" Sorcha pressed her back into the edge of the bath, her spine curving in defeat.

"It means you want to fuck him, darling." Nour gave a light scoff as if it was so clear to everyone but her -- perhaps, it was.

"It seems more complicated than I thought it would be." Sorcha tilted her head back until she was staring at the arched ceiling of the baths. Dark hair curtained around her head as Nour bent forward until her face filled Sorcha's vision.

"Oh, it's not complicated in the slightest. Most of it is entirely instinctual. Your body knows what it wants. You just need to give it the freedom to lead."

"I don't know how to do that." Sorcha was almost pouting now, the anxiety burning a hole in her chest.

"Well, the first step is to finish cleaning you up." Nour encouraged, leaving a soft pat on Sorcha's cheek." Something tells me he might cum on the spot if he saw you in a dress that fits."

NOTE

Its been a while but I'm back! I've been having the worst writers block and creative block in general so I've been neglecting my stories. So Sorcha and Nour got some bonding time in this chapter and Sorcha realized she's horny for Gendry. Next chapter we will see what Gendry's been up to!