#jaime x mc

[oneshotprincess]

Cove, Terry, and Randy, also at the venue, watching all of this unfold like: 🤯, 👀🍿, 👁️👄👁️

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt. 38

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, MC POV, departure to Asshai!,

Words: 3,007

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 3.5  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42

Book Two of Dārilaros hen ōrbar se perzys (Heir of Ash and Fire)

Dritan’s cheek stung from where Rhiannon’s hand had slapped him. Away from the prying eyes of party goers, even in the dark archway the Fiery Hand soldier could feel the intensity of Rhiannon’s glare.

“I don’t want to hear you ever speak ill against (y/n), let alone my sister.” She growls out her warning. So much did she remind Dritan of her older sister Thalina. From her gold hued eyes to her hefty soft brown hair, but the sisters were so different. “If you know what's good for you.”

Her words brought up the memory of when Dritan last encountered Thalina.

Clenching his fists, he found the bitterness inside of him grow and fester. “She will lead you to your death as she did with Thalina. All of you will perish in Asshai for trusting that darkin. She is too young, too naive. The moment she allowed the darkin to live was the moment she condemned us all!”

“Do you desire another slap?” Hissed Rhiannon, prepping her right hand if need be.

Like many others in the temple, Rhiannon was blinded by the miracles (y/n) had performed during her time in Volantis. Dritan alone could see earth swirling around the Westerosi girl, the one Thalina had forsaken him for. When word of Thalina’s ultimate fate was leaked, Dritan had done his best to persuade her to stay for in his heart Thalina reigned supreme. Hard did he fall in love with the clumsy red priestess. Within the first few months of his service to the temple, Dritan knew that he wanted Thalina as a wife. He had even gone so far to confess his love, hoping it would be enough to stop her. Nothing could change her mind, not even the potential of romance. Thalina broke his heart in the same breath she used to scold him. This was her duty and she was happy to follow out the flame’s divine plan. How content she was to go to her death!

Rhiannon was following in the footsteps of her sister. Stubborn and polluted by the faith of R’hllor. There was no talking her out of it.

They were all sheep.

Not having anything else to say to Rhiannon, Dritan stormed to the barracks that housed the temple’s warriors. Rhiannon watched his departure with narrowed eyes. She debated on going after him or even alerting a priest of his blasphemous speech. Disparaging her sister’s memory by condemning (y/n), uneasiness produced a lump in Rhiannon’s throat. It made her worry about leaving. What would Dritan’s resentment lead him to do?

“That one has always been filled with unquenchable anger, I’m afraid.” Dreamy voiced Alizah walks out from the shadows, her traveling cloak around her shoulders and hood pulled over her head. Behind were the quiet figures of Haakon and Kafele who possessed hair like flames.

“You are leaving so soon?”

Her pale face grows sad as she nods. “Yes. If I am to get there in a timely manner, I must leave at once.”

Pursing her lips, Rhiannon tentatively asks “Are you allowed to divulge where you’re going?”

Alizah pauses for a moment before Kafele whispers into her ear. Whatever he had told her makes Alizah’s features alert once more. “In due time. We must be off. Remember your lessons, Rhiannon. The night is dark and full of terrors.”

The trio hurries past Rhiannon leaving her alone. Her destination must be important if they were in such a rush to leave. To herself, Rhiannon finishes the verse that Alizah had left her with. “The day is bright and beautiful and full of hope.” That’s what (y/n) represents for the future. No matter what Dritan had to say.

You swore your brain had a pulse as your head ached from the night before. Taking everything in you to start getting ready for your long journey, thankfully Rhiannon and Inanna had arrived to help you gather at least your necessities. Every now and then though you were seized with the need to throw up.

Small Inanna, although still terrified of the small dragon curled up in your sheets, hurried to your side with a tonic Siofra had produced. “This should help you. Siofra worried about this last night.”

The thought that people were looking out for you warmed your heart and just that was enough to make you feel better. “Thank you, Inanna.” Her dark eyes sparkle at your gratitude before she laughs at the face you make. Unbearably bitter, you were sure that it was meant to truly make you vomit but in a few minutes your nausea all but disappeared.

“It will definitely be quiet while you are gone.” Inanna admits a little sadly as she folds her hands in front of her. “I’m sure Ser Jaime and Lord Tyrion will offer some entertainment to those who will miss you.”

“Is it really okay for Weles to be leaving the Fiery Hand for so long? He is the captain afterall.”

“Iyan is second in command, capable of doing all that Weles does.” she informs you. “The others respect him as much as they do Weles.”

Rhiannon snaps your leather trunk closed, having finished gathering all that you may need. “Besides, that’s the least of your worries. Where we are going is a place hardly anyone has ever ventured. Stygai is the territory of the darkin and other shadow creatures. Things that shouldn’t be alive dwell there.”

Entering your chambers with a plate of cooked meat, Siofra sets it down on the bed next to a dozing Latilth who promptly wakes up at the smell. Crawling on her belly, she begins to toss back her breakfast with delight. You and Rhiannon chuckle at what a messy eater she was.

While helping you dress, Siofra comments “I wonder how big Latilth will be when you come back.”

Inanna nods. “She’ll certainly be a sight to see.”

At hearing her name, Latilth hobbles away from her plate and stretches her wings in an attempt to fly to you. Her wing strength was still weak, only being two days old, and was unable to pick up any air. Upset, she squawks unhappily until you go to her and allow her to scramble onto your shoulder. Her nails certainly scratched up your skin but it was a small price to pay.

Sirvart is called upon as are Ilta and Vidarr to help with your two personal trunks and one of Rhiannon’s.

During your trek through the temple to the docks that were below the cliff, red priests and priestesses alike joined your entourage silently to see you off. Even a handful of temple slaves sneaked away to add themselves to your retainers. Some sang hymns and others prayed for R’hllor to watch over you and your companions.

The sun was barely an hour into the sky when you made your way down the wooden staircase that curled up to the training ground. The Red Temple had their own section of docks for personal use. Nippy winds brushed your short hair away from your face and made you cling tightly to the little furnace that was Latilth. You could make out moving dots on the boardwalk leading to what assumed was your ship. They carried large crates up to the side of the ship where they would hoist it up with ropes up on the deck.

At the base of the cliff, you turn to Inanna and Siofra who had joined you up until that point. The rest of your group that you had accumulated on your way, watched up top. Dozens of figures clothed in various shades of red and orange.

“We all wish you great fortune on your journey, nuha kosh.” Siofra bows low, her tight curls on her head springing when she rises back up.

Inanna offers a small smile as she too bows. “Please be careful. All of you. We will make sure your brothers are taken care of.”

“Thank you. Both of you.” You take each by the hand and give them a small squeeze.

Rhiannon gives each of them a hug, lingering a few seconds longer with Siofra as she whispers something. When she pulls away, Siofra gives her a firm nod. “Don’t worry about us here. Take care of nuha kosh.”

You and Rhiannon depart from your group and follow Sirvart, Vidarr and Ilta to the wooden platform that leads up to the awaiting ship. Already your brothers were there speaking with Weles. Tyrion’s face was set in a stoic facade until he spotted you. One green and one black eye deceived how he was truly feeling. The breaking of your heart was definite at such a face. You were leaving him again. There was no worse thing than that knowledge and you half consider taking him with you.

You couldn’t be that selfish. Who knew what perils there were in Asshai. Tyrion was safer here with Jaime and the rest of the temple’s residences. They would protect him and raise him in your stead. Asshai was no place for children let alone one like Tyrion. Ture that the myths you had been told about the darkin were false, but Inniros himself had verified the validity of the myths about his homeland. One could not tread safely in the Shadowlands. Many who iced there wore masks for belief that it protected them against such evils that lurked.

Tyrion gets Weles and Jaime’s attention, pointing to you and Rhiannon who were fast approaching. The three Fiery Hands move around them, briefly giving a salute to their captain before passing them to drop off the trunks.

Gloom settled above your brothers now that the time had come. This was really happening.

Tyrion clears his voice and quietly asks “Do you have everything?”

“Everything except for my brothers.” You sigh and bend down to gather a stiff Tyrion in your arms. Close to the side of his face, Latilth preens his unruly curls. Eventually Tyrions does melt into your embrace. “I’ll bring you a souvenir.”

He shakes his head, face buried in your chest. “Just come back safely and soon.”

Tears brimmed your eyes and with great reluctance, you release Tyrion and quickly wiped your eyes. You’re faced with Jaime now.

Jaime. . .

Vague memories of last night dance in your head but you couldn’t quite put everything together yet.

Conflicting emotions waged war inside of you. Since leaving Westeros it had only ever been the two of you. How would you survive without his reassuring presence? Your relationship with Jaime has come a long way. Through childhood he had been a complete stranger. Now he was the one person in the world you were closest to.

You throw your arms around his waist and hide your face in his robes. Jaime’s powerful arms encircle around you. Yes, this felt familiar. Did you hug him last night as well? The two of you were never really a physical pair, but you couldn’t help yourself now that you were leaving him.

Where did you even begin to tell him how much you loved him? How important his presence was in your life. You had grown to cherish Jaime. Your younger self would have never considered Jaime an important figure in your life.

You bite your lip and simply tighten your hold. Words could never describe the loneliness you would feel without him. Your tears were enough to tell Jaime.

Abruptly, Jaime lets go and takes a step back. Understanding his action, you gently smile at him. He tries to hide his face by looking away from you. Warming your heart was the knowledge that Jaime would miss you just as much.

“Both of you behave while I’m gone.” You sniffle, barely able to maintain even a small smile.

Tyrion nods and gives your hand one last squeeze. “Next time you leave for another far off land, I’ll be ready to go with you.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Tyrion was proving to be a man of his word. Next time he will be ready. The next journey you plan on making will be back to Westeros. Once Latilth was big enough to carry you and your brothers.

Weles turns around to wave at the approaching Melisandre, Inniros and the red priest who must have been Rayzer. The priest had long, dirty blonde hair and the telltale fire priest flames tattooed on his olive skin. He carried only a burlap sack and a leather pouch hanging from his sash.

“Good, looks like those who need to be here are present. And no one else.” Just to make sure, her red eyes scan the docks. Sirvart and the other two Hands were walking back up but other than that is was your small group. A few yards away were fishermen going about their daily lives, unaware of the dark destination your ship was routed for.

The red priest smiles at you and bows. “It’s a pleasure to actually meet you, nuha kosh. I am Rayzer, but you may call me Ray.” Smile lines crinkled around his brown eyes and mouth as he spoke. Most of his hair was gathered in a top know while the rest easily flowed on to his shoulders.

“The other red priests were just briefing Ray on his duties for this trip. Of course Iomhar put in his piece on how Ray should behave.” Rhiannon rolled her eyes and gave Latilth a scratch under her chin. Evidently she enjoyed such attention for it made her normally unblinking eyes closes with content.

Ray’s eyes sparkle when his gaze lands on Latilth. “Extraordinary! I had seen glimpses of the dragon last night but I didn’t get the chance to actually approach you.”

You notice how precise his Common Tongue was. Many of the hands and priests you have met had heavy accents. Ray didn’t seem to have one. His speech was that of a native to Westeros.

With a smile, you show Ray the honor he bestowed upon you with a small curtsy akin to what you would see in the Seven Kingdoms. “Thank you for coming with us. Our journey will be safer with you in attendance.”

He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “I will do my best, nuha kosh.”

Melisandre turns to look at a very quiet Inniros. “Shall we board then?”

Stiffly, Inniros nods and makes his way for the ship, brushing past you in the process but not before shooting Jaime a suspicious glance. Jaime’s demeanor changed to almost one of hostility.

Not phasing Inniros, he continues his stride; Melisandre feet behind him.

This was it.

One last group hug with your brothers, you turned to follow them. While your stomach performed acrobatic tricks inside of you, you breathe deeply and place your foot securely on the first rung of the dangling ladder. Latilth peeks over your shoulder, pressing her body closer to your neck to prevent herself from falling over. Men waited above once you reached the edge of the deck. They helped you onboard, making sure your feet were planted firmly on the creaking wood floors. Your brothers were so small on the docks yet your eyes held onto them for as long as you could. Siofra’s tonic, working its way through you, prevented the wave of nausea that would have swept you up from being on the sea again.

The wind air exciting her, Latilth clambers off of you and jumps onto the much taller Inniros who had just been pulled up. Inniros eyes the dragon on his shoulders, stoic as ever. In a soft tone, he starts speaking to her in a language you had never heard before. Having traveled through most of Essos, you had thought you had experienced all the languages out there.

A breeze tickles the back of your neck sending a chill through you. You close your eyes and pray to whoever would listen:

Please take care of Jaime and Tyrion.

Rhiannon’s cheek lands on your shoulder but did not startle you. “They will be okay. Trust in Ser Jaime.”

You press your head against her’s. “I do. That does nothing to alleviate how lonely I will be without them.”

“You may not have your brothers, but you have your sister.” She smiles.

You hug Rhiannon. That was right. Rhiannon was your sister; blood be damned. You weren’t accustomed to having a decent sister, this would be a good change.

“Ladies, will you join me in a small prayer for safe travels?” Rayzer bumps in, separating you and Rhiannon.

Nodding, you grab his hand with your left and Rhiannon with your right. Melisandre and Weles joined the small circle, leaving Inniros as the odd man out. He stood off to the side, making sure not to get in any sailor’s way while also scratching Latilth atop her head.

Letting go of Rayzer’s hand, you hold your now free one out to Inniros, beckoning him to join.

Hesitantly, Inniros leaves his spot to awkwardly situate himself in between you and Rayzer. The fire priest smiles and offers his hand to Inniros. “You don’t have to do anything. Just being in this very spot is good enough.”

Inniros tilts his face down, wanting to avoid any eye contact with the others in your circle. You hadn’t missed the sharp stare that Melisandre fixed on him nor the twitch in Weles’ sword arm. There was still unfriendly air swirling around them.

You grab his hand, surprised at how warm his palm was. His frame went rigid at your touch but you simply offered him a smile. From the angle you had of him, you could only see the eye patch that hid his missing orb. Slowly his fingers curl around your's, reciprocating your offer. Latilth hopped from Inniros' shoulder to your's and in an odd way, she bowed her head as if listening to Rayzer's impromptu sermon.

Rayzer’s prayers in the Valyrian tongue was more beautiful than any poem and reassured you that you would return to Volantis soon.

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[jamespotterthefirst]

Familia (Ethan x f!MC)

Book: Open Heart, beyond

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey and MC (Lilac Allende)

Word Count: 2.7K

Rating/Warning: T/ Some Language

Summary: Ethan meets her family over a traditional meal of tamales.

Note: In which Lilac's Mexican mother teaches him how to make tamales. Translations at the end :)

The usually cold, pristine kitchen of his apartment appeared like a different place entirely that afternoon. For one, it was crowded as Lilac's family bustled about, the sounds of music, laughter, and lighthearted conversation filling the space. Every inch of the counters was covered in a colorful mosaic of ingredients, each meant for a different dish and each tended to by a different Allende. Tendrils of steam swirled into the air as Mrs. Allende stirred the contents of a sizzling pan, the aroma nothing short of mouthwatering. 

It had never felt so inviting or close to a real home and Ethan felt momentarily stunned. 

He paused at the threshold to admire it, his attention finally resting resolutely on Lilac. She, too, appeared entirely transformed as she cooked and joked with her siblings in both of her languages. Sparkling green eyes creased at the edges, more alive than ever, as she dodged a dusting of flour sent her way by her younger brother. 

“You'll pay for that,” she told him mid laugh, followed by more vows of retaliation in Spanish. 

Ethan basked in the sound of her voice and how her native language made it sound different— like a soft melody that swelled pleasantly with every word. Something soared within him as he watched this version of her, taking root in his chest and blooming very much like the first time he saw her at Edenbrook. 

“Ya basta, muchachos,” Mrs. Allende chided over the hiss of the frying chilis. “Jaime, look at the mess you made all over Dr. Ramsey's kitchen. Clean up all this flour and go keep your dad some company in the living room.”

“Sí, señora,” Jaime Allende said with a mock salute that made his mother roll her eyes lovingly. Once her back was turned, he smirked at his sisters. “See you later, feas. I'll be in the living room enjoying the game.”

Laurel, the eldest, shoved him with her shoulder as he passed. It looked almost comical to Ethan since she was significantly shorter than him.

 “Hey, you better clean this shit up,” she called out after him. When the warning fell on deaf ears, Laurel shook her head and murmured to Lilac, “Twenty four and he still knows how to trick his way out of doing any real work.”

“Typical,” Lilac returned cautiously, eyes on her mother's back. 

Ethan took that opportunity to rejoin his girlfriend at the kitchen, his arms banding around her waist as he quickly kissed her temple. 

Lilac let out a pleased little laugh, her body relaxing against him. 

“How's my dad?” 

“Quiet,” he replied, trying his best not to take it personally. Still, the nerves he felt about meeting her father had tapered into a fine point when the man had spoken less than five words to Ethan. 

“That checks out,” Laurel commented knowingly from beside them. 

Lilac threw her sister an unappreciative look which did nothing to help with his anxiety. She swiveled in Ethan's embrace, her scowl softening when their eyes met. “My dad's just a quiet person at first. Once he gets to know you, he's the goofiest marshmallow imaginable.”

Ethan remained unconvinced, afraid that her father was less than thrilled about their relationship. Then again, if Ethan had a daughter, he would absolutely take issue with the bastard who was both her boss and boyfriend. 

“We found a football game on TV that he likes,” he commented, unsure of what else to say. 

“As long as it's real fútbol, he'll love you already.”

“Yes, he can excuse sleeping with his daughter but he draws the line at American football,” Laurel mused with a wicked laugh, already dodging the slap Lilac sent her way. 

Their mother caught the end of that exchange and sent them a single, silencing look that made both sisters cease at once. Then her eyes swiveled to Ethan and at once, her expression softened. Mrs. Allende straightened her spine and cleaned her hands against her apron. 

“Doctor,” she said cheerfully in Spanish. “Thank you again for inviting us into your lovely home.”

“Es un placer,” he returned as he studiously avoided Laurel's gaze. It would no doubt silently communicate “Kiss ass.”

“Thank you for making dinner,” Ethan said to Mrs. Allende, who waved this away dismissively, though she looked thoroughly pleased. 

“No thanks necessary. I hope you like tamales, Doctor. It's my mother's recipe.”

“I'm honored to try them. How can I help?” 

This was evidently the right thing to ask because Mrs. Allende lit up with pure admiration and approval. If he didn't have her blessing before, he was convinced he did now.

 Waving her daughters aside with fluttering hands and instructions in both languages, Mrs. Allende led Ethan to the part of the counter Jamie formerly occupied. She spent the next few minutes teaching Ethan how to prepare the masa. 

“Muy bien,” she praised minutes later when Ethan had caught on to the technique quickly. “Ya está listo para casarse, Doctor.”

You're ready to get married now. 

Three reactions occurred at once: Lilac coughed, Ethan felt his ears flare with heat, and Laurel all but cackled. 

“Madre!” 

“It's just a saying, mi vida,” her mother returned innocently, finding her way back to the stove. “Why don't you start on the filling?” To Ethan she added, “My Lilita makes the best green salsa, did she tell you?” 

Ethan paused his movements, the sticky dough beneath his palm melting against his skin. 

“She didn't.”

Lilac was studiously avoiding his gaze now, cheeks as red as the tomatoes she rinsed. For as long as he had known her, Lilac had made a show of professing her lack of culinary skills. 

“You're missing out, Doctor,” her mother proclaimed proudly. “Her chilaquiles are the best too.”

Ethan quietly assessed his girlfriend, who gave him a fleeting, embarrassed look. 

“You didn't tell me you could cook.”

Cheeks brighter still, she refused to look at him for longer than a moment. 

“Nothing anyone I know would like.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Mostly obscure Mexican food my grandma taught me how to make.” 

The words were an embarrassed mumble. 

“Your friends and I would love it.”

“Yeah, well…” 

Something about the shame in her expression and the tension in her shoulders opened little fissures along the surface of his heart. With a pang, he began to comprehend that every time his Lilac said, “I can't cook!” it was the simpler alternative. Feigning incompetence was easier than explaining the dishes she loved so much to people who often looked down on them. Not that Ethan or her friends ever would, but all it took was one asshole to look down on her customs with disgust for a protective barrier to emerge.

When Mrs. Allende busied herself with the oven, Ethan moved to encircle his arms around his girlfriend, careful not to get any of the dough still coating his hands on her. 

“Make it for me someday?” 

She blinked at him in surprise and when he smiled, she relaxed against him, nodding quietly. The grateful smile she gave him made his heart skip. 

“Dad's team is losing,” Jamie announced a

minute later as he reentered the kitchen, closely followed by his father. “He's mad. So he'd rather come in here and help wrap the tamales.”

Mr. Allende rolled his eyes at his son. “They have the ref bought, mijo. It's a waste of time to even watch.”

Unbeknownst to him, Laurel and Jamie silently mouthed their father's words in perfect sync behind his back. Ethan almost allowed a smile, unable to resist the infectious laughter that proved to be an Allende family trait. Before he could join in the myrth, however, Mr. Allende's eyes met Ethan's. The older man's expression was an impenetrable mask and it made Ethan's nerves buzz with a start. 

It was only when Mr. Allende's eyes fell down to Ethan's hands, clasped securely around his daughter's waist, that he realized he still held Lilac in a rather close embrace. 

Without thought, Ethan released her, almost shoving her away instinctively. 

Lilac, slightly affronted, shot him a funny look. She was no doubt incredulous that a man Ethan's age was still afraid of his girlfriend's father like some kind of hormonal teenager. A cheeky part of his mind mused that when it came to Lilac, he was much like a juvenile version of himself. 

“You're almost forty,” she teased in a whisper when her family was too preoccupied with an argument over what music to play. 

Ethan threw her a dry, unappreciative glare. He couldn't add anything more because at that moment, the notes of an upbeat and unmistakably eighties song drafted from the small Bluetooth speaker. 

All three Allende siblings groaned in unison, the sound dropping lower still when Mrs. Allende began to dance unabashedly to the beat. 

“Not Luis Miguel,” Laurel sighed. “Our mother's crush.”

“Luis Mi Rey,” their mother corrected with a lovestruck sigh. 

“I'm standing right here,” their father returned, arms crossed.

 Ethan could see, however, that the faux stern expression threatened to break as he watched Margo singing happily. His wife pulled him close, singing lyrics about falling in love under the sun on a beach. 

“I really lucked out,” Mrs. Allende said, voice sing-song and eyes fixed adoringly on her husband. “I ended up with someone better than El Sol de México himself.”

The sun of Mexico belted a high note from the speaker. 

“Yeah, you ended up with the entire solar system with Dad,” Jaime teased, a wicked gaze falling on their father's generous belly. 

“Don't body shame my dad,” Laurel returned sternly, though she looked on the verge of laughter. 

The family dissolved into a good-natured argument. 

Ethan watched them in silence, admiring the small pocket of chaos they occupied as they each spoke over one another. Even in doing so, they laughed and joked until all that could be heard was a chorus of mirth that made his heart ache. 

“The sun is a solitary star,” Ethan found himself saying through the cheerful chatter. 

Everyone fell silent, casting him glances that ranged from curious to downright confused. Only Lilac glanced up at him with a brilliant, knowing smile. 

“Many astronomers believe it once had a companion. As it stands now, it's an anomaly because it's alone in the universe.”

Still, no one said anything. 

Ethan was beginning to wonder if he overstepped and interrupted a family moment with his nonsense. Before panic could settle over his insides like a sheet of ice, his girlfriend wrapped an arm around his waist, settling into his side. 

“In other words,” he continued, eyes moving to a quiet Mr. Allende. “You don't want to be like the sun. You and your wife are more like binary stars, who are gravitational bound forever.”

More silence followed his words and Ethan had half a mind to retreat from the room. 

Finally, when the pause was almost unbearable, Mr. Allende chuckled. 

“You hear that, viejita? I'm better than Luis Miguel. I'm a star.” 

“Made of gas,” Jaime supplied. 

In the chaotic symphony of their laughter, Lilac reclaimed Ethan's attention with a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Ethan Ramsey,” she murmured, impressed. “You are a bit of a poet after all.”

It's how I feel about you. 

“I could've come up with that.” Jaime said loudly. 

“No way,” Laurel returned at once. “You literally said Dad was as vast and old as the solar system.”

“Old?” her father asked in mock offense. “No one said anything about old before.” 

After that brief glimmer of Mr. Allende's approval in the kitchen, the awkward edge in the air lifted. By the time Mrs. Allende promptly sat all of the men at the kitchen table to wrap the tamales, Ethan had proudly earned himself a smile from Lilac’s stoic father. His eyes crinkled at the edges as he watched Ethan studiously wrap the corn husks.

“My wife is going to favor your tamales, Doctor. You’ll make us look bad,” Mr. Allende commented. 

“We do that all on our own, pops,” Jaime returned without missing a beat. As though to prove this point, a glop of dough fell from the corn husk he haphazardly wrapped. 

Ethan paused, concerned. “Am I doing it wrong?”

“Not at all. They’re nearly damn perfect,” Mr. Allende chuckled. 

“Ethan does everything with mathematical precision,” Lilac commented as she approached, placing a kiss on Ethan’s forehead. 

Laurel muttered something from behind Lilac. Whatever it was scandalized her sister. 

Luckily, Mr. Allende missed this because he grinned at Jaime. “See, mijo? You should put your degree to use, too.”

“I was too hungover the day they covered tamal wrapping in my engineering classes,” Jamie returned. 

“Cabrón,” Mr. Allende laughed. 

As it turned out, Mr. Allende was correct. His wife adored the neat work Ethan made of the task she assigned. Bursting with pride and delight, she squeezed Ethan’s shoulder. “Excellent work, mijo!” 

Ethan’s heart felt weightless at the term of endearment.

“Ma, don’t go replacing me as the favorite son,” Jaime joked. 

“About time,” Lilac muttered. 

Jaime and Laurel rolled their eyes, exchanging a look. 

“Middle child,” they chanted in unison. 

They dissolved into a melody of voices and laughter once more. As the tamales steamed, they found themselves locked in a boisterous and heated game of Lotería. Ethan proved to be exceedingly good at it, much to everyone's delighted surprise (except Lilac's). After winning a particularly dramatic and fast-paced round, everyone flashed him an impressed smile.

 Everyone except Laurel. 

“Looks like you met your match, Lau,” Mr. Allende laughed. 

“I only lost because I was calling them,” Laurel responded, red in the face. “It slowed me down.”

“Then let me call them,” Ethan returned, matching the challenge in her voice. 

Lilac smacked an excited hand against the table. “This I have to see!” 

Mrs. Allende, looking just as delighted, proclaimed, “Have him call out the personalized cards too, mija.”

“Personalized?” 

“La Doctora,” Laurel said pointing at Lilac. “Mine is La Maestra and Jaime's is El Ingeniero.”

“Your parents don't have one?” 

“Dad's is already in the original deck,” Jaime began with a devilish grin. “El Borracho.”

Mr. Allende responded with a string of curse words and hearty laughter. 

“Ethan needs one, too,” Mrs. Allende said, kind eyes surveying Ethan. “We need to think of what his will say and I'll ask your cousin Natalia to make it.”

The group erupted into suggestions of what to name Ethan's card but he remained silent. His throat felt inexplicably tight as he watched them, thinking of ways to include him. 

“How about El Anciano?” Lilac whispered close to his ear, her warm hand atop his under the table. 

Ethan smiled at her jab but it was half-hearted. 

“They love you already,” she said reassuringly, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. 

For once, Ethan was speechless. 

“Alright, alright,” Lilac called out through the jovial clamor of voices. “We can decide on Ethan's card over the tamales and the bottle of tequila he bought for tonight.”

Jaime let out a loud cheer, his hands rubbing together in exaggeration. Lilac rose from her seat to retreat the bottle. When she returned, she raised it over her head like a trophy to the cheers of her siblings. 

“Good choice, Doctor,” Mr. Allende commended as he caught sight of the label. “How did you know that was my favorite?” 

Lilac telling him that morning is how Ethan knew. 

“I just knew you had good taste and went with that.”

The smile Mr. Allende gave him left little doubt that he had effectively won him over too. 

Laurel scoffed quietly, flicking a finger to the tip of her nose and spearing Ethan with a look that basically shouted “brown-noser.” On a whim, he flashed her a swift middle finger, careful to keep it hidden from her parents. 

Jamie howled with laughter, Laurel looked impressed, and Lilac grinned, looking far more in love than he'd ever seen her. 

It was then that Ethan realized that the foreign warmth coursing through him, welcoming and comforting as a morning sun, was a sense of belonging. 

Translations:

Masa: Dough

Tamales: A Latin American dish made of dough and filling. It is steamed in corn husks or banana leaves.

Chilaquiles: a traditional Mexican dish consisting of corn tortillas cut into quarters and lightly fried. Usually topped with cheese, cream, and other ingredients.

Mijo/Mija: Term of endearment meaning "son" or "daughter"

El Sol de Mexico: The Sun of Mexico. A nickname dubbed to singer Luis Miguel.

Viejita: Affectionate way of saying older lady

Loteria: a traditional game of chance, similar to bingo, and is played on a deck of cards instead of numbered ping pong balls.

Maestra: Teacher

Ingeniero: Engineer

Borracho: Drunk

Anciano: Old Man

Note: Hi. Lots of apologies to give out. First off, sorry it's been literal months! I'm back. Sorry this is long. Sorry this is long overdue (I wrote it two years ago and held it close to my chest.) Sorry I still have other fics to finish!

And thank you so much if you're still here and read this!

[destructivisms]

The Boys X Brazilian Music

headcanoning the music tastes of the boys characters with brazilian music! because i am brazilian and have decided to make that everyone's problem. shout-out to my best friend who does not have tumblr and thought of half of these. most of the artist names have links to songs!

includes the boys and assorted other characters that we had ideas for.

BILLY BUTCHER

Butcher listens to punk rock, the revolting bastard, and the language won't make much of a difference — he'd love the Brazilian punk bands with a history of dirty lyrics and censorship such as Plebe Rude, Os Replicantes, Inocentes. However, as with the Spice Girls, he knows a powerful pop teamup when he sees one...

HUGHIE CAMPBELL

He's a classic rock/pop guy, 80s stuff, so he's bingo-ing all the standard "plays on the radio" bands — Legião Urbana, Paralamas do Sucesso, Barão Vermelho... He cries to Epitáfio by Titãs and 100% has dedicated Tarde Vazia by Ira! to Annie.

M.M.

Undoubtedly our family man loves a good pagode — a subgenre of Brazilian samba that comes from a community celebration with food, music, dance, and drinks. He'll go out to dance with Monique to Turma do Pagode and Grupo Revelação's hits. Also, as a fan of rap and Black protest music, M.M. would be really into fundamental Brazilian rap artists such as Racionais MCs that denounce racism and political violence.

FRENCHIE

This guy canonically listens to French trap/rap so there's no doubt he'd get hooked on artists such as Matuê and Teto. However I also feel like he'd be into psychedelic rock and its trippy guitar riffs — which leads us to artists like Raul Seixas, Os Mutantes, and O Padre dos Balões (will never pass on an opportunity to recommend my favorite small band). He'd also listen to Mamonas Assassinas because I think so.

KIMIKO

She has a soft spot for classic musicals, jazz standards, and slow ballads — the samba and bossa nova classics would be a gold mine, from Cartola to Chico Buarque, João Gilberto and Tom Jobim. She'd be obsessed with Carmem Miranda! And I can also see her falling in love with Elis Regina and Marisa Monte's voice. I can also see her jamming to 80s pop that sticks to your head — A Fórmula do Amor by Léo Jaime and Kid Abelha jumped immediately to my head (and it's been there since, send help).

ANNIE JANUARY

Annie is the type to have grown up listening to sertanejo — a very popular genre of Brazilian country music. The classic duos, such as Chitãozinho & Chororó, and especially the movement of female-centered sertanejo led by artists like Marília Mendonça and Maiara & Maraísa. However she probably stopped following these artists around 2019, so anything newer than that (like Ana Castela) "doesn't sound right" and takes her on an angry rant.

BONUS:

THE DEEP

Unironically listens to O Sol by Vitor Kley while staring at the sunset. Firmly against Mestre Jonas by Sá, Rodrix & Guarabyra because that is whale abuse.

ASHLEY

Unironically listens to Manu Gavassi looking at the mirror and thinking "literally me."

HOMELANDER

This one song on loop.

[dhampiravidi]

when you dislike the MC of a good series AKA Who Will Die in The Wicked Powers

damn, being petty enough to flip off the MC x canon ship in my (favorite) fandom is really kicking me in the ass--

yeah, basically I can't touch half the TSC stuff on Tumblr bc I'm so anti-Clace...(meanwhile I love literally every other character that's been in every Shadowhunter series)...& they're probably gonna have a wedding + kids in the next books (assuming Jace isn't killed)...

The Wicked Powers is most definitely gonna have the Princes of Hell as the main villains. I feel like Luke, Gwyn, or Izzy will die, since the younger Shadowhunters are supposed to be central & well...look at the couples who will be alive/extant by TWP:

SPOILERS FOR ALL SHADOWHUNTER BOOKS!!

Jace & Clary

Magnus & Alec

Simon & Izzy

Julian & Emma

Kit & Ty

Kieran/Cristina/Mark

Dru & Ash (& maybe Jaime)

Diana & Gwyn

Luke & Jocelyn

Tessa & Jem

(forgive me if I'm missing anyone!)

Jace already died once. Clary had dreams about dying, but those were shown to be visions of Thule. Based on canon events, I think they're Clare's favorite ship. SAFE.

Magnus almost gave himself to Asmodeus in CoHF. Alec almost-ish died saving Magnus in The Eldest Curses. Also, Alec almost died thanks to that poison demon in TMI (the one Magnus saved him from). Malec might end up forced to rule some region of Hell (reason unknown but I think it'll have to do with them beating/destroying Asmodeus). I feel like past events foreshadow Magnus dealing with the unfortunate sides of being a warlock. But he won't die--the "killing your gays" trope might actually save he & Alec.

Simon nearly died when the vampires attacked him (when he was a mundane), then when Valentine bled him pre-Daylighter (then Jace's blood saved him). He "sacrificed" himself to Asmodeus CoHF, in the form of his vampire immortality + memories (which he basically got back later on). Izzy...she's been through a lot psychologically & about as much as I think most Shadowhunters would physically. She lost Max & her dad. But she's a badass (I'm not faulting her for it, either). So I don't think she's safe.

Julian & Emma both lost their parents in horrible ways. Their whole series was about the parabatai curse (which, to me, was conveniently not mentioned in chronologically earlier series...probably because it wasn't invented til TDA was written, lol). They're kinda written to be the leaders of Livvy's Watch. SAFE.

Kit has his whole faerie power reveal shit to explore & he + Ty are some of the major characters in TWP. I'm pretty sure they'll spend the series healing their relationship. SAFE.

Kieran/Cristina/Mark will survive because 1) Kieran as the Unseelie King is an important Shadowhunter ally, 2) they're poly rep in YA, which is rare, and 3) killing one of them off would leave the others to mourn in such a weird way. SAFE.

I love Dru Blackthorn. She's one of the main of TWP, so I think she'll survive, plus tbh I don't think any more Blackthorns will be killed. Ash will probably end up as the Seelie King or as Clace's adopted son, to "redeem" Sebastian in a narrative sense. Jaime's sort of a main for TWP as one of Dru's love interests. SAFE.

Diana & Gwyn aren't main characters (though I like their romance). Diana also is the ONLY transgender person in all the books (unless I missed something). I don't think she'll be killed off. Gwyn might be just because I see the Wild Hunt as an important group in TWP & he might die protecting Diana (narratively, this shows strengthened faerie-Shadowhunter relations, despite the Wild Hunt being unaffiliated with either Court).

Luke & Jocelyn deserve to be endgame, but I could see Luke being killed off as one of those "MC's loved one is killed so the MC goes & avenges them" type of things. I love Luke & Jocelyn as characters, though.

Tessa & Jem deserve to be endgame, arguably, more than any couple. They were the mains in their series, then Jem survived but was sort-of-"lost" when he became a Silent Brother. Then he miraculously became a (mortal) Shadowhunter again when he was burned by heavenly fire, he just left the Clave behind to hang with Tessa (good choice!). Tessa has a baby & she's gonna suffer enough when she outlives Jem. SAFE?

[little-paperboat]

Hi there! 🌸

It's time for a pinned post! I'm Paper Boat (she/her, late late 20s) and you can call me paper, or boat, or however you want ����

This blog is the recipient of all my current ships and hyperfixations & is multi-fandom by essence. I'm currently very much focused on Baldur's Gate 3, notably on Rolan, and am terminally in love with all the tadfools, who I multiship (but I'm an occasional Zevlor/Dammon/Raphael/Gortash enjoyer too) 🧡 More recently I've fallen into the Arcane rabbit hole and Viktor has my whole heart.

I also hold a decade-long obsession for my top 3 otps of all time: Rose x the Doctor from Doctor Who, Jaime x Brienne from Game of Thrones and Zutara from A:TLA - they occasionally appear here.

I'm getting back into writing and you can find me as paper_boat on AO3. My fics are listed below!

Feel free to interact or tag me in games, I really don't mind and I'm always happy to participate! 🤍

✨ Baldur's Gate 3

i burned my fingers on this forbidden fire • Rolan x Tav (series, ongoing) tagged: series:forbidden fire

— Part 1 : Wild Winds Are Death To The Candle (2/2) — Part 2 : Through Shadows To The Edge of Night (3/3) — Part 3 : What We Owe To Each Other (3/3) — Part 4 : i burned my fingers on this forbidden fire (ongoing)

✨ Arcane (League of Legends)

is a heavy heart too much to hold? • Viktor x reader (f!reader) (ongoing)

tagged: fic:heavy heart

✨ Hogwarts Legacy

take my hand, wreck my plans • Seb x MC x Ominis (on hiatus) tagged: fic:tmhwmp

— general tags: writing • fanart • fandom shenanigans • art • misc • life tips

— specific tags: baldur's gate 3 • rolan (also using 'rolan nation') • arcane • viktor • jaime x brienne • zutara • doctor who • (upcoming)

— my ocs: ariel mithcallor (BG3) • rune pendragon (BG3) • "tav" (BG3)

(c) dividers by saradika-graphics & roseschoices

update: 17.11.24

[houseofthewolves]

The Arrangement

Part I. Terms and Conditions

Jaime Lannister x OC

MC is Breena Baratheon. The little sister of King Robert and Stannis, the younger twin of Renly. I originally planned to write my Jon Snow story for her first, since I ship her both with Jaime and Jon 🤭 Buuuuut the Jaime story is a lot angstier, and I was in the mood for some angst.

Summary: Tyrion is sent to the wall for the murder of Joffrey. Jaime is released from the King's Gaurd per his agreement with Twyin. Tywin has made an arrangement with Breena so that she will willingly and comfortably marry Jaime. Breena and Jaime come to their own agreement as well.

"I have found you a wife," Tywin declared as he watched his eldest son and heir from across the Hand's chambers. Jaime was uninterested. Fiddling with any small knick knack he could find in his father's office.

"And who might that be?" The Kingslayer asked. His tone was flat and bored. He did not want a wife. Nor children. He did not want Casterly Rock. But these were the sacrifices he made to save his little brother's life. Now here he was, being mated like cattle.

"See for yourself," his father said as he motioned for the guard to open the door. In stepped a young woman with raven hair and eyes of lilac. Her full lips were closed in a line. He knew her. Breena Baratheon. King Robert's little sister. He had not seen her since the trip to Winterfell. Since then, she had been married off and sent to the Vale. She'd squeezed out a babe, and her husband had since died. Luckily for him.

She was beautiful. There was no denying that. Her raven hair was almost darker than the night. She'd inherited the almost hauntingly beautiful Valyarian eyes from her grandmother Rhaelle Targaryen. She had a naturally sweet looking complexion. Though, when she was angry, her face no longer looked so innocent. Such as this moment. She looked as though she wanted to skin Jaime alive.

To make matters more complicated, Cersei despised her. He did not know why. For years, Breena had been the little sister Cersei never had. Then, almost overnight, Breena became her worst enemy.

Breena looked as excited about this arrangement as Jaime did. Her violet eyes looked him over, clearly unimpressed. "Lady Breena," Jaime forced himself to speak, nodding to his intended respectfully.

"Ser Jaime." She replied as she too tipped her head forward at him.

"Lady Breena has agreed to this match under certain conditions," the Hand explained.

"Such as?" Jaime inquired, his eyes not leaving his intended bride. He did not remember her looking so womanly before. It was most likely because she had been hidden beneath layers of warm wool and furs in Winterfell. Robert had sent her North years before. He believed Ned Stark would have been a better example for her than he or his brothers ever could. It was so rare for him and Robert to agree on something.

"Such as Storm's End will be returned to Lady Breena. She will inherit the castle and carry out her duties as Lady of Storm's End from Casterly Rock until she has given you two sons," Tywin went on.

"Two?" He questioned.

"Our firstborn son will be a Lannister and will inherit Casterly Rock after you," Breena spoke up, stepping closer to Jaime. "Our second son will bear the name Baratheon and will inherit Storms End after me." She explained, her chin held high as she laid out her demands. "And I am free to leave Casterly Rock whenever I please after I've given you an heir. If I choose, I can return to Storm's End and remain there as long as I like."

"This sounds like quite the marriage. When can we start?" He asked as sarcasm laced his words. "I imagine you've already agreed to this?" The Kingslayer asked as he turned to face his father. Jaime felt powerless. Trapped like a pet in a cage.

The Hand nodded. "We need to reclaim the Stormlands after we've defeated Stannis Baratheon," he said as he nodded to their solution standing just before them.

"How do you know we can trust her? That she won't betray us?" Jaime asked.

"Because we'll have her son," Tywin said simply, his deep voice almost threatening as his eyes watched the Baratheon woman before him.

"And I'll have yours," Breena reminded Jaime, her arms folding across her chest as her violet eyes darkened.

The new Lord of Casterly Rock stared in silence. He was surprised she would use her child as a weapon against him. This was certainly no longer that innocent girl from Winterfell, he thought.

"You'll be married in a fortnight. I suggest you get to know one another," Tywin dismissed them.

[ratanslily]

for @choicedits song challenge

song: formidable- twenty one pilots

pairing: jaime lewis x mc (my fav friendship and relationship ♡‿♡)

i cherry picked some lyrics suitable to the pictures!

[oneshotprincess]

recently finished my playthrough of our life up to cove's wedding dlc and i started a new file to play the baxter dlc.

i always had cove at 'fond' or 'crush' so this time i tried it with 'indifferent' and i'm really liking it actually! it totally changes the flavor of the relationships and my mc's character

i wonder though, since i'm planning to romance baxter, if it's more interesting to have cove at 'indifferent' in step 3 or at 'fond'

anyone have any opinions?

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt. 37

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, MC POV, slight incesty vibes, partying, drunk reader, alcohol consumption

Words:

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 3.5  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42

Book Two of Dārilaros hen ōrbar se perzys (Heir of Ash and Fire)

Thalina sat in front of you the wooden figures of Balerion, Meraxes and Vhagar. Toys you had grown to love as much as you did Thalina. The fear that had taken deep root in you once Rhaegar left Dragonstone was replaced by a sense of wonder and joy. Thalina knew you needed a friend, at least one, on the foreign island.

The light on your nightstand flickered comfortably, setting shadowy characters behind her as Thalina sat down next to you on the edge of your bed. She smiles at you, long honey brown hair that was normally elegantly braided, hung off of her shoulders. “Tonight I have a gift for you to accompany your story.”

Giddy about your potential surprise, you sit up against your pillow. Waiting expectantly while Thalina opens a drawstring bag. Onto your bedspread, she dumps out its contents and you smile when you see more dragon miniatures like the first gift she had ever given you. Together, along with the three you already had, there were fourteen of them.

“Now, my little one, do you know the names of these eleven other dragons?”

There were a few you could easily name and point to. You insisted that your nannies read you books upon books of dragon history, but there was only so much you could remember at such a young age. It had been quite a while since you had last refreshed on this subject matter.

“Famous Targaryen dragons, of course.” Thalina nods and toys with one that was an off-white color but had a golden chest. “And where did they get such names?”

“From Valyria?”

She chuckled. “Yes of course. But even Valyrians can not take credit for them. You see, these fourteen dragons are named after the Gods of Valyria. The very gods that created the men of valyria created dragons first. And this handsome fellow,” Holding up the one with the golden chest, Thalina names him “This is Arrax. He is considered the father of ancient Valyrian people. No, the gods weren’t dragons, but they did share some physical attributes. The gods have a body like men but also have wings, horns and tails, much like the creatures they created: dragons.”

You loved these late night rendevouz with Thalina. The grouchy septa that was in charge of looking after you didn't much like it when Thalina spoke of the other gods in Essos. You would often hear your septa call them heathens. So Thalina was forced to tell you stories when she knew that old grouch wasn't around to eavesdrop. Her stories always gave you the most exciting dreams. Dreams where dragons still existed and you were lucky enough to ride them.

"It must have been fun to ride dragons." You had mused outloud. "Imagine being able to touch the clouds and go wherever you wanted! I could see Rhaegar at any time if I had a dragon. King's Landing isn't that far."

Thalina chuckled and kissed your brow as she tucked you back in; setting your new collection of dragons on your nightstand. All fourteen lined up perfectly. "Maybe one day when you're older things will change."

Your attendants had rushed you back to your apartments as you held the small hatchling in your arms. Her warmth calmed your rapidly beating heart and tampered the trembling of your muscles. By the gods. . . you had done it. Everything leading up to that moment meant nothing. Training, defeating a darkin, conjuring your own flames for Lightbringer; none could compare to the tiny life you pressed against your chest. Rhiannon’s cloak draped over your shoulders, the burnt orange material covered the little dragon although every once in a while it would flap open to show her beautiful, pearlescent scales along with your bare skin. Ash and smoke prevantly clung to you as your entourage passed through the corridors, your Fiery Hands making the way as if they expected a sudden enemy to pop out from around the corner. You couldn’t blame them or think they were too paranoid. What had happened out there was a miracle, a complete game changer to the history you were forging.

Too shocked to completely comprehend what was happening, you hadn’t even realized that Weles had opened your bedroom door.

Jaime’s protective hand falls onto your shoulder and he guides you inside. A muffled conversation between a red priest and Weles vaguely floated through your ear but you couldn’t discern what they were saying. All you could hear was the small chirps coming from your arms.

Your older brother sits you down and Rhiannon moves around him. “Nuha kosh, are you alright?”

“She’s in shock.”

“Obviously. She just hatched a dragon egg! The first one in centuries.”

Those who were deemed unimportant were shooed out of your room by Melisandre; Sirvart being her muscle to enforce her order. Alizah’s sweet, dream-like voice beckons

Inanna, who had been quietly watching, forward as the small girl was already holding a change of clothes for you.

“(y/n), I’m going to remove the cloak from you now.” Rhiannon gently informs you and you stiffly nod. Tyrion, Jaime and Inniros turn away to offer you at least some sense of privacy. There were still so many voices talking outside of your chambers, you wondered what chaos you had caused.

Inanna’s small shriek seemed to snap you out enough to focus on her as she literally jumped back. On your lap, the dragonling stretches her delicate looking wings. Curiously, the dragon cooed at her, tilting her head at the new person in front of her but not moving from you.

Melisandre quickly swoops in and motions for Inanna to leave. The girl shakingly bows before scurrying out of your room. Alizah follows after her quietly and you hope its to comfort the poor girl.

Presented with a new gown, you shoot a cautious glance over at the boys who had their backs turned to you before standing up and shifting the little dragon onto your bed. She- at least you felt like it was a female- didn’t like being separated from you even if it was just for a moment. The dragonling shrieks and hops around on the bed.

“Already the hatchling is bonded to you.” Melisandre’s red eyes sparkle exquisitely, watching the dragon’s movements with awe. Along with Rhiannon, the two red priestesses help you into a much more comfortable dress that flowed freely and didn’t restrict your movements. They also used a wet washcloth to run along your arms and legs to clean you off.

Nodding once the sunburst dress makes you decent, Rhiannon tells the boys they can turn back around. At that point, Siofra makes an appearance with a pair of shears and hands them to Rhiannon; all while eying the dragon on your bed.

Her bright ember eyes stare inquisitively at Siofra and the others who flitted about your room. Bravely, Tyrion approaches your bed and makes eye contact with the dragonling. His expression was filled with light and wonderment. “What are you going to name it?”

Jaime’s brows furrow and he walks next to Tyrion. “How can you even tell if it's a boy or a girl?”

You admit “I don’t know why, but I feel like this dragon is a female. Just something about her expressions.”

That makes Jaime chuckle a bit and he hesitantly holds out his hand in front of the little dragon. Startled by his actions, she moves back and snaps her toothpick sized teeth at him. Tyrion’s turn to laugh at Jaime’s rejection, your older brother scowls and holds his hand close to his chest. For being so small, the dragon was already showing the fire inside of her.

“I haven’t really had time to think of a name.”

This made Tyrion excited and he could barely contain himself when he asked “Can I choose her name? I’ve always wanted to name a dragon.”

You smile, finally feeling like yourself again and the shock dying down. “Make sure to decide on a good name fitting for her.”

Learning from Jaime’s mistake, instead of putting his hand over the hatchling’s head, Tyrion holds out his hand in front of her so that she may sniff it first. A natural connection was made between Tyrion and the hatchling when she allowed your little brother to gently pet her snout. “Her scales are so warm. Almost hot.”

“All dragons emit a natural heat from their bodies. Hotter than human skin, it could even scald.” Inniros comments out of the blue, Melisandre turn to face him. That was right, both were originally from Asshai so they must already know of dragonlore; secrets and knowledge that no one else knows about. With his single blue eye, Inniros glances at the Red Woman in an almost hostile way that you didn’t understand. Not for the first time either. The darkin, not getting along with the Fiery Hand for obvious reasons, didn’t seem to get along well with the temple’s priests and priestesses. They moved as far away from him as possible and Melisandre appeared to be the only one to tolerate Inniros’ presence.

When there’s a knock at your door, Sirvart leaves her station to crack it open. A brief conversation was carried out before she closed the door once again. “High Priest Benerro wishes to see you before the feast commences. For obvious reasons. And he would like you to bring. . .” Sirvart needn’t finish her sentence. Everyone looked over to Tyrion and the hatchling who was now climbing onto his shoulders. Her snout tussled around his wild hair as she inspected him.

“He’ll have to wait. (y/n) is in dire need of a trim.” Rhiannon holds up the shears that Siofra had handed her.

That’s right. Your hair must look a mess after the flames ate away your long tresses. You lift your hand to feel the choppy, dry ends. The longest piece you found barely reached your jawline. Never had your hair been so short. Vaguely you remember when Thalina was forced to cut off her own luxurious hair because of Viserys. Honestly, you thought she looked even cuter with short hair as it framed her round face better. Her hair curled into ringlets and there was nothing you enjoyed more than decorating her hair with various wildflowers that you found on the hills of Dragonstone.

Once Rhiannon cleaned up your hair, you were escorted to the temple’s chapel hall where the High Priest was attended by several others of his guild. Their whispering voices immediately stopped dead when your presence was made. The dragonling was on your shoulder once more; once she saw you moving away from her, she had quickly clambered off of Tyrion’s shoulder and leapt onto your back.

While your hair was being trimmed, the rest of your entourage had decided to dress themselves up for the upcoming feast that was to be held at sunset. Those of the Fiery Hand, including Jaime, wore exquisite robes and sashes. Siofra had dressed Tyrion in a nice shimmering beige tunic and over it was a burgundy short sleeve doublet that greatly reminded you of the Lannister colors. Both of your brothers looked charming in their outfits. Even Tyrion’s wild hair had been brushed and braided in the warrior style of the Fiery Hand.

The men present in the chapel all at once fell to their knees in front of you making you blush from embarrassment. You weren’t used to such adulation and you doubted it was something you would ever get accustomed to.

Even the High Priest bowed his head low, too old to actually get down on the hard ground. “Nuha kosh.”

Walking down the aisle that the other priests had made, you go up the small steps that led to the main altar. Benerro’s eyes fall upon the small dragon on your shoulder. She flapped her wings slightly to steady herself as you took each step carefully.

“Arlie ēza issare vēttan tubī (History has been made today).” He announces in that alarmingly strong voice that betrayed the feebleness of his mortal body. “Īlva kosh, Azōr Ahaī sigligon, ēza maghatan arlī se ēlī zaldrīzes pār pōja morghon(Our champion, Azor Ahai Reborn, has resurrected the first dragon since their extinction).”

The priests held up their hands to the vaulted ceiling, raising their praises in loud chants of jubilation. It startled your hatchling and she moved closer to the side of your neck and face.

In the Common Tongue, Benerro personally addresses you. “While this is certainly cause for celebration, unfortunately it also means we must address the safety of both you and the temple.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“The news of what has happened today has already spread. Many witnessed your miracle firsthand and have been quick to tell others. Some priests have voiced their concerns. There is fear among them that this news will bring upon assaults on our temple in order to acquire your dragon. While our Fiery Hand is strong, against another larger army, they could not possibly defend the temple properly. Which is why your journey to Asshai must proceed tomorrow morning.”

At first you gawked at him before clearing your throat. “Tomorrow?”

He nods solemnly. “You will be safer in Asshai until the dragon grows enough to defend itself. It would be best for you to depart as soon as possible, but tonight you can still enjoy yourself at the feast.”

You look behind you to Tyrion, wishing you had had more time to spend with him before your departure. Paining you to leave him so soon. This was necessary though. Pursing your lips in a firm line, you nod. “Of course.”

“It is best that your traveling group remains small, to attract less attention. Melisandre, Weles, and a priest have already been chosen to accompany you as well as the darkin.”

“Alizah will not be coming?” For some reason the assumption you held was that Alizah, being the most gifted priestess, would also be there.

>From the group behind you, Alizah steps forward. “While I would love to join you, unfortunately duty calls me to somewhere else. I will actually be leaving right away. Time is of the essence. I have faith in Lady Melisandre and Priest Rayzer that they will take good care of you. I will keep you in my prayers though.”

You hadn’t met a Rayzer before, at least you don’t remember. A lot of people have been introduced to you during your time at the temple. Some were merely visiting, others had quickly left to go on one of their missionary work.

“Your Grace,” Rhiannon slowly makes her way next to you, looking up imploringly at the High Priest “Please allow me to follow nuha kosh to Asshai. I may not be as useful as Lady Melisandre or even Lady Alizah, but there is nothing more I would greatly desire than traveling with (y/n).”

“Yes, please, Your Grace.” Humbly you bow your head and the High Priest hastily urges you to raise your face.

“If this is what you desire.”

“It is.” It would be hard enough leaving your brothers, but leaving Rhiannon behind would prove to be a lonely journey for you.

With the High Priest’s blessing, Rhiannon was permitted to go with you to Asshai. A great weight had been lifted off of your chest. While you would definitely miss Tyrion and Jaime, you would still have Rhiannon with you.

The day wore on, hasty plans being made for your departure, and the sun slowly dipping down below the horizon. Already the yard which was normally used for training was being decorated with braziers and great pits of fire that gave off plenty of natural light. Nobility from the Black Wall had ventured out and were already filling out the yard, replacing the sparring Fiery Hands with long gowns and exquisite robes. Even local merchants were in attendance, sporting their fineries.

You watched them from your balcony. Tyrion sitting at the table you normally ate breakfast at; your dragon playfully hopped around on the table, her nails clacking against the tile top. Jaime stood next to you, his arms folded in front of him. Just the three Lannister siblings. The others were preoccupied with their own tasks, reassuring security was set in place.

Sensing your rising nerves, Jaime says “You should be used to all this attention by now.”

A small laugh leaves you and you shake your head. “No. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. I’ve spent all of my life being unnoticed. Even when I was married to Rhaegar, I was overlooked. I didn’t mind it, honestly. There were no expectations that I could ruin.”

“I don’t think you can ruin any now. You have done the impossible, (y/n).” He turns to you and the orange-pink glow radiating off of the sunset made Jaime appear to beam with warmth. The green of his eyes was so bright that they seemed to glow. A scar below his eye, courtesy of Inniros, was the only thing that blemished his otherwise handsome face.“Once father hears of this he’ll feel so ashamed of the years he disregarded you.”

You shrug, not particularly caring of what Tywin thought of you anymore. All of the things you had accomplished, you had done without the help of the Lord of Casterly Rock. What you were more so excited about was Rhaegar. If the news was spreading fast, then you hoped that Rhaegar would hear it too and know you were still alive.

“I’ve decided on a name!” Tyrion abruptly claims.

“Well, lets hear it.” Jaime grins and leaves your side to wander over to Tyrion. If Jaime looked beautiful in the light of sunset, then your little dragon certainly outshined him. Her scales, glittering with soft colors like that of an opal, were enhanced as she flapped her wings experimentally.

You left the balcony rail and joined your brothers.

Tyrion pretends to clear his throat. “I am proud to present to you Latilth.”

Jaime rolled the name around in his mouth before nodding. “A pretty name for an equally dazzling creature.”

“I like it. Latilth.” As if already knowing her name, Latilth cocks her head and waddles over to you. You smile and stroke the top of her head. Her small little horns were mere buds on her head. Everything about Latilth was so delicate. For now. One day this little hatchling would grow into the most deadly of predators that the world has ever seen. She would lead your army and help you defeat your enemies. On her back you would fly all the way back to Westeros. Some day you hoped for Rhaegar to see the both of you and how much you had grown. You still considered yourself to be meek, that was something that would take more time to remedy, but you weren’t that same little girl dying on her bed. The way Rhaegar left you.

Quietly, Tyrion asks you “How long will you be in Asshai?” He didn’t meet your gaze and you knew that he didn’t like you leaving him so soon.

You hug him from behind and hide your sad face in his hair. Tyrion smelled of sweet jasmine and citrus. “I don’t know. I don’t even know how long it will be to get there. But I’ll try to be back as soon as possible.”

“Remind me why you have to leave again.”

You chuckle. “There are secrets in Asshai that will help me. Plus as Azor Ahai reborn it is my duty to gather the darkin over to our cause.”Plus there was something that had been bugging you about the relationship between the Temple and the darkin. An off-hand comment that both Melisandre and Inniros had made. From what you had experienced with Inniros, he generally wasn’t a very friendly person. Around the priests and priestesses though (especially around the Fiery Hand) he seemed especially hostile.

Tyrion’s small hand grasps at your arm. “Here I thought we would have more time together.”

“Once I get back I promise we will. For now, you’ll just have to be satisfied with Jaime.”

“Rude.”

Both you and Tyrion giggle and you release him. “I know there is no one else who could take greater care of our little brother than you.”

“Of course. I’ll see what he learned from Ser Barristan. Hone his skill.” He promised and winked over at Tyrion.

There was a slight worry that the men of the Fiery Hand would be too rough. But you couldn’t coddle Tyrion because of his defect. You knew he hated that more than anything. Tyrion wanted to be just like Jaime no matter what.

You trusted Jaime to not let serious harm fall upon the youngest sibling. How much time would pass during your stay in Asshai? Upon your return you didn’t doubt that Tyrion would grow into a young man in your absence.

Calming your nerves about the future, you gaze back out to the yard. Watching the small figures below scurrying around like ants.

Latilth, wishing to be closer to her mistress, hobbled on the tile surface and made her way up your back. Tiny claws dragging along delicate fabric and eventually the skin of your back. Latilth’s claws could not yet compare to the ones that had originally torn into your skin.

Finally situated on your shoulder, Latilth rubs her forehead against your jawline. You grin and nuzzle against her. “Happy name day, Latilth.” You considered this celebration more for her. She would be the star of the show.

“I hope this party won’t be like the stuffy ones father always took us to.” By his voice, he’s already anticipating a boring occasion. Jaime had never been one for ceremony. Dressing up in formal wear and feigning his best behavior, Jaime loathed such gatherings. A cousin of yours in Lannisport had thrown a lavish gala and your parents had dragged all three of you along. Of course it was Cersei who flourished in that environment. She was dazzling, enchanting those around her while you stuck close to your mother’s skirts. Jaime could have been charming his relatives like his twin, but that held no interest to him. Instead he had incited rowdiness among male cousins closer to his age. Tywin, for everyone knew that Jaime was his favorite, merely gave him a quiet scolding on how to act. After all, Tywin still had hopes that Jaime would someday become the Lord of Casterly Rock.

“We’ll see if Volantis knows how to have fun.” you smile and bump your shoulder against his arm playfully. He replies with a grin.

For the first time in quite a while your life was content. At your side were both of your beloved brothers that you had so longed for during your lonely childhood. And on your shoulder was your sparkling future.

Jaime stares at (y/n)’s peace filled smile, her eyes no longer anxious but relaxed. It did indeed feel like Jaime could afford to breathe and rest. At least for the moment. He will have to watch his sister leave come tomorrow morning. Being parted from left a foul feeling in his chest. For nearly two years they had been traveling together, learning to trust one another enough to clash blades. Having suffered through a lot, Jaime was apprehensive about not going with her to Asshai. (y/n) could physically take care of herself, that was certain, yet that knowledge itself did not make the separation any easier for Jaime.Who knew what will befall her in the strange country known as Asshai. All he had ever heard of that place were horror stories.

Now he would take the opportunity to engrain her face into his memory. (y/n)’s short hair really suited her despite her short bangs revealing the scar above her eyebrow. Sparring under the swollen sun had gifted her with a dust of freckles over the bridge of her nose. Faint but still visible to Jaime’s admiring eyes. She shimmered before him, much like Latilth, the dragonling that had just been brought into the world but several hours ago. Already aware of herself, Latilth turned her head at every new sight and sound with no fear. Rather it was curiosity of the world, a world she could one day possibly rule.

So this is what Thalina had envisioned for (y/n). Jaime kicked himself for thinking the maid a raving lunatic. Had he truly understood, maybe he could have saved her in time too.

“You must do this. She is more important to the world than you can truly understand.” Thalina’s eyes had been so angry, that’s what Jaime had thought at the time. Even as tears reddened them and welled up. Now Jaime was older and wiser. Thalina had never been angry. It was fear that made her words tremble. She had clutched onto him so desperately, knowing that she would not be around for much longer. From living in the temple, Jaime was aware that Thalina had been able to see into the future by reading flames. Something that (y/n) seemed capable of at a rudimentary level. Jaime wondered how much of (y/n)’s future Thalina had seen.

Taking him a few moments to register that (y/n) was now looking at him, her thick brows crossed with concern. “Are you okay?” Her gentle tone automatically brought a light smile to Jaime’s lips. He loved her for many reasons but above all it was the fact that her tender heart still remained with her. After heartbreak and devastation, blood and tears, (y/n) held onto her kindness. This world would not tear her down. She was strong in her own way.

Just to wipe that look off her face, Jaime softly pinches the tip of her nose with his index and middle finger. The face and noise that came from her made both brothers laugh. She sputtered and slapped his hand away. “Yes I’m okay. What about you? It’s been a hell of a day.”

While rubbing her abused nose, (y/n) grins. Latilth seemingly cooes like a dove at (y/n)’s smile. What a strange creature. “Honestly I would enjoy a nap, but I suppose I’ll sleep plenty tonight.”

“They really don’t let you rest here.” Sighs Tyrion. “These people run you ragged. I guess that’s what happens when you’re a god’s chosen hero.”

(y/n)’s whole demeanor loses edge. “Even so, being here. . . I have some kind of purpose. The most fulfilling events of my life have happened here.”

Guilt and shame arise in Jaime whenever he is reminded of (y/n)’s childhood. For good reason too as Jaime should have been the one to protect his little sister, even if that meant going against Cersei. His childhood errors would always haunt him, even looking at how happy (y/n) was now. They could have been so much closer had he been a proper brother in the beginning. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so wrapped up in Cersei’s web. His cruel, lovely Cersei; Jaime’s heart still called out for her like a wandering soul. She was his other half after all. All the terrible things she had done to (y/n) though couldn’t be overlooked. Jaime would not stand idly by like he once did.

Jaime puts a hand on (y/n)’s vacant shoulder. Her beaming face when she looks up at him was enough to melt any negative wonderings that swirled in his head. “If you can get through today, I’m pretty sure you can survive anything. Asshai better watch out for you.”

Tyrion lowers his voice, glancing over his shoulder and back to his sister’s room. “Are you sure you trust Inniros?”

Not wasting a second, (y/n) confidently nods. “I do. Our meeting may not have been ideal, but I”ve spoken with him. The darkin aren’t a blood thirsty breed, not like the stories we heard. Inniros, above all things, is still just a mortal like us.”

The way she spoke of the darkin sparked a green flame like wildfire in Jaime. Her voice had turned soft when discussing Inniros. (y/n) held such sympathy for the man that would have so readily killed her. Jaime was not as trusting. In the blink of an eye, Inniros easily slaughtered Feichen and several other servants of R’hllor. Nightmares of being held captive by his own shadow still tormented Jaime in the night. He had been utterly helpless, an entirely new concept to Jaime. Helpless and forced to watch men he had trained with, men he had grown comfortable around, taken down like they were nothing. The scars that both he and his sister bore were courtesy of the darkin, but (y/n) seemed eager to forget that.

Underneath his skepticism belied his jealousy. A jealousy he had continuously tried to squash down. “Lets hope you’re right.” He wanted her to be right. The alternative was something Jaime didn’t want to entertain like the thought of Inniros turning the darkin against her when she got there.

Only thing for Jaime to do was simply place his faith and trust in his sister. After all this time, (y/n) was constantly surprising him.

Rich red wine flowed heavily in your veins. It was the only thing to tamper down your natural shyness. Indeed this party was better than any you had attended in Westeros. Even outshining your wedding banquet which had overall been an awkward occasion.

Torches and braziers were lit and a large campfire had been erected in the center of the training field. Pleasing you to see many of the occupants in the temple letting loose and enjoying themselves. Weles looked absolutely stunning in his formal attire, so unlike his sparring robes that he normally dawned. The captain was completely at ease, enjoying the atmosphere and even more so admiring that his own warriors were having fun as well. You noticed this as Weles watched Yophiel and Sirvart covertly flirting with one another. This supposed secret interaction made Weles smile to himself and take a sip of his wine. Light from the torches made the yellow tattoos on his face stand out against his dark skin. You enjoyed watching your friends be carefree and wild.

Friends.

You had never really had friends before. Thalina and Tyrion were the only friends you could conjure up from your memory. Even then Tyrion was too little to even be speaking full sentences.

Now you observed Rhiannon dancing with Iyan in a ridiculous manner, but they didn’t care. Dritan walks up to them middance and Rhiannon leaves Iyan, the other Fiery Hand coaxing her off to the side in a private conversation. Iyan goes back to his dancing as is soon joined by the beautiful Ilta. You could even hear some of the red priests who stood off to the side cackling with laughter and slapping one another on the back. In the very center was Inanna teaching Tyrion a traditional dance.

Eyes catching those you didn’t recognize and who Nuahlin had whispered to you in the beginning as those who lived behind the Black Wall. Beyond the Black Wall is what many referred to as “Old Volantis”. No outlander, freeman, or foreigner is allowed inside the Black Wall. These were nobles above all else. In turn they watched you with lingering gazes. Nuahlin told you that while they don’t believe in R’hllor, they were nevertheless curious about the young girl whom the High Priest celebrated as Azor Ahai reborn and her newborn dragon.

Latilth, enjoying the pieces of cooked meat that you fed to her here and there, kept to either your shoulder or the comfort of your arms. While she was small, many did not dare come up to you. Intimidating for the very fact that one day the little dragon would become something to fear.

“Naejot se ābri hen bantis! (To the ladies of the evening!)”

“Vidarr!” You chirp and clink glasses with him.

His lavender eyes are filled with good tidings and he siddles next to you. A temple handmaid quietly walks over to Vidarr, offering another decanter of wine which he gladly poured into his empty chalice. “They haven’t had a party like this in decades. So I’ve been hearing at least from the old men.”

Interested in the new face before her, Latilth leans off of your shoulder slightly to sniff at Vidarr.

He chuckles and holds out his hand in front of her nose so that she may inspect him. “She is beautiful for such a dangerous creature. May she grow to be as big as the temple!” Latilth eyed his fingers before giving one sniff then retracting her body back to you. It was clear that she saw you as security.

“I hope so. Once she’s big enough then we can return to Westeros. Who knows how long that will take though.” You hoped that in that time, Rhaegar would prove triumphant in the war against Aerys. In your heart whispered something else “Wait for me, Rhaegar”. Was the whisper of your heart doomed to shrivel up and die? He was technically free to remarry as everyone believed you to be dead. If he wanted, he could take Lyanna as his bride; she was the woman he had wanted all along. Now that he was allies with the north, this would look to be a great opportunity for both sides. The north could claim that their Lady Lyanna was a queen to the Dragon Prince.

“There are many secret magics in Asshai.” Vidarr commented. “Perhaps you’ll find something that will make her grow fast. Although I know the temple will miss you desperately when the time comes for you to return to Westeros. Many of us will go with you, of course, but those who don’t have a high station will be forced to stay here.”

“Some of the Fiery Hand will have to stay here to protect the temple.” You wonder who would be chosen to stay. Of course Weles couldn’t, he was the captain and most skilled out of any of his men and women.

The Myrenese smile at you. “Matters to worry about come tomorrow. For now, enjoy these last moments. Have you spoken to any from the Black Wall?”

You tell him that while you haven’t actively gone up to one, they seemed to want to examine you and Latilth from a distance.

Those from the Black Wall believed in the religion of Old Valyria. Vaguely you recall Thalina telling you these tales with the dragon statuettes that she gifted to you.

A dragon after so many years is exciting for anyone, but you guessed they were especially holding high hopes for Latilth. Dragons held an intricate position in their religion.

“Are you able to dance with the Lady Latilth on your shoulder?” Vidarr sets aside his cup and holds out a hand to you.

Laughing at calling Latilth a ‘lady’ and warn him “Even with Latilth, I’ve never been much of a dancer. I have two left feet.”

“I can attest to that.” Jaime buds in, his thick arms crossed in front of his chest. “I believe (y/n) owes me a dance first.”

Vidarr holds his hands up innocently with a smile on him. “Of course, Ser. I will wait my turn patiently.”

The gold bracers on his forearms shimmered when he held out his hand. “Lilagon lēda nyke, ñuha kosh.(Dance with me, my champion)” His Valyrian shocked you and you neary didn’t register what he said. It was flawless, unlike his usual struggle with the pronunciation.

You stare at him with wide, enchanted eyes. “Who taught you that?”

“The best teacher there is: our own brother Tyrion.”

No time to hear any of your protests, Jaime guides you to the center ring of the dancing figures. Latilth excitedly flaps her wings, startling those around you at her abrupt movement. With his fingers entwined with yours, he unexpectedly twirls you around and you try your best to keep your steps as fluid as possible. The dragon on your shoulders clung to you but beat her wings as if dancing along with you and your brother. Live music that was being played by local musicians, picked up speed with their notes. In reply you and Jaime acted accordingly. He was so light on his feet, you panicked when you tripped over your own feet. Jaime had a tight hold on you and prevented you from falling. Elegantly he moves along with your desperate steps.

Pulling you closer to him, Jaime whispers in your ear “Relax, (y/n). Just pretend we’re sparring. You’ve always said it’s like a violent dance.”

Pretend we’re sparring. . . Okay, I can do that.

You take a deep breath before Jaime releases you in a spin. Right in front of him, the sparring began. Pivoting around him, your arms acted as swords. When they clashed, Jaime was actually touching your skin in a manner that sent shivers up your arms. His smile was brilliant as he matched your footsteps, going along with the fast paced music.

At this you were much better. Regular dancing had always scared you but this was freeing. You felt wild and untamed in this faux fight. Jaime. . . Jaime was the perfect partner for you. If you had danced with him at your wedding, you wondered if it would have been as easy as this. Probably not, not with those oppressive eyes on you. The eyes of your father, sister, and those who didn’t care an ounce about you.

Now you used your training that Weles had drilled into to keep light on your toes to keep up with Jaime. More surprising was the way Latilth moved her body along to prevent the movements from making her fall off of you.

Then as the music came to an end, you wound up staring right up into Jaime’s eyes in the final position. Both of your were flushed and grinning wildly as your audience clapped and cheered at your performance. A spark, perhaps it was the wine, energized your chest as you smile at Jaime. The two of you had been through so much but he had proven that he was there to stay by your side. So much love thrummed in you for Jaime. You gave his hands a squeeze since he still held onto them tightly. How would you survive Asshai without your knight?

Your body, out of its own accord, wrapped arms around Jaime and embraced him tightly. With your ear pressed against his chest, you heard the strong beating of his heart. Maybe it was an inappropriate time to show this display of affection but you didn’t care.

Slowly Jaime returns the embrace and places his cheek on the crown of your head. How long had it been since you received any kind of physical attention from a man? You couldn’t even remember the last time you laid in Rhaegar’s bare arms. It had to have been when you were heavily pregnant before. . . before the poison took everything away from you.

Not until Jaime had returned your desperate embrace did you realize how much you had missed such contact.

You close your eyes and try to capture the moment. Something you could replay on lonely nights in Asshai.

Jaime laughed at you as he helped you back up to your room. You had never consumed so much wine in your entire life and you feared you had overdone it. Unsteady on your feet, you relied heavily on your older brother to safely get you to your bed. At your stumbling, Latilth had fled from your shoulders and onto Jaime’s.

Through some garbling, you managed to get out “Serry Latilth. . .”

“Lets hope you don’t wake up hungover.” Jaime chuckled more so to himself as you were hovering in and out of consciousness. You had so much fun after dancing with Jaime. Vidarr danced with you in the same way and even lumbering Yophiel wanted a turn. Drinking helps you to get out of your shell more and interact with others. A priest whom you had never spoken to before had the interesting hobby of stone carving while another showed off his “fire breathing” skills.

“Waz dat?”

“That’s what happens when you drink too much. You get sick the following morning.” Jaime shakes his head, still holding his smile at your slurred speech.

“Oh nooooo.” Groaning, at least you were somewhat coherent as to realize that you could possibly be sick when you board the ship to Asshai. That was the last thing you needed. The relationship between you and the sea had never been a kind one. Crashing of the waves and the jostling of the vessel always made you sick to your stomach.

Reaching the door to your chambers, Jaime jostles both you and Latilth so he could open the door. “Don’t worry. We’re going to get lots of water into you. Hopefully there’s something they have to combat nausea.”

Very carefully he made his way to your bed and gently laid you down. Latilth hopped off of him and nuzzled against your side. Her presence sobered you up a little so that you could watch Jaime go to your wardrobe and pull out a comfortable night shift.

He holds it up for you to see. “Do you think you can dress yourself?”

Even lifting yourself up to your elbows was hard work and in the end you let yourself fall back onto the mattress.

“I guess not. I can go call upon Siofra-”

“No. Dun bover her.” You waved at him. “I’ll just. . . sleep in my clothes.”

Jaime shrugs and tosses your shift off to the side. From the decanter on your table, he pours water and lifts your head enough so you could easily drink. The water tasted sweet against your tongue. Drinking until you had your fill, your brother puts aside the decanter and lays right next to you.

“Jemmie?”

You hear him laugh quietly. “Yes?”

You roll onto your side that faced him. Never during your journey had you been so close to him. Even when sharing the same room and bed there was always a distance. Now though you could easily see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed quietly. What you really wanted to ask him was whether or not he thought Rhaegar would marry Lyanna in the end. You were reminded of how he naturally had a dislike for Rhaegar after what had happened. That seemed so long ago but he still held a hatred for him. Even on your way to Volon Therys the two of you had gotten into a spat about Rhaegar.

He doesn't want to hear about Rhaegar, (y/n).

The last days of your normal life at King’s Landing felt like a far off dream. You had thought that maybe against all odds that Rhaegar was finally falling in love with you. His kisses, caresses and eyes when he gazed upon you all screamed love. There was your uncertainty though. Was he pretending? Did he still desire Lyanna Stark? The thought that killed you the most is if Rhaegar had been pretending the entire time. No, you didn’t want to believe that. That wasn’t Rhaegar. Rhaegar’s love couldn’t be faked.

Jaime will think he was pretending all along. That Rhaegar could never love you because he already loved Lyanna.

In your inebriated stupor, all words left you and you burst into tears.

Her tears dried up after some time of letting (y/n) cry herself out. Jaime held her close to him, feeling his exposed chest grow wet from her eyes. Quivers raking her body eventually subsided as her breathing returned to almost normal. At first he wanted to laugh when he first saw her crying, chalking it up to the immense amount of alcohol that she had consumed. But there was a genuine sadness in the way (y/n) sobbed.

Before that night, Jaime had never touched her in such a way. Close and intimate like the way she had embraced him earlier. Due to his afflictions he tried his best to keep himself at arm’s length from his sister, a sister he greatly desired. Things couldn’t be the same way it had been with Cersei. (y/n) wasn’t Cersei. She was pure and untainted by malice and sin. He wanted her to stay that way. And if (y/n) were to ever find out about his secret? She certainly would never look at him the same way. When she had confronted Jaime about his incestuous relationship with his twin, the expression on his face made him want to shrivel up and die on the spot. The dirt of such immoral acts suddenly weighing him down. All those times he had been with Cersei, Jaime had never cared if it was a sin or not. To hell with everyone who thought what he was doing was wrong. Until he saw the disgust on her face. When tempers did die down and (y/n) willing to discuss it, she seemed to understand that no one could help who they fell in love with. Her past with Cersei though added a tone of hurt in her words. Cersei had caused great trauma to her, physically and mentally. While Jaime never got the feeling that (y/n) hated Cersei, (y/n) definitely did not like her.

To her, Cersei was the most revolting creature there could ever be.

Jaime learned a great deal about self-control around (y/n). He couldn’t afford for her to find out about the dreams he had of her at night. How he longed to kiss her and know her as a lover as well. It would never and could never be.

Her silence prompted Jaime to peek down at her face. The tears were no longer and she appeared to be fast asleep. He sighs in relief and moves his arm out from under her. The gem colored dragon peered over (y/n)’s shoulder and at Jaime. Two small balls of fire.

“Take care of each other.” His whisper is picked up by Latilth. There was an almost human intelligence to her that startled him. She looked like she was listening to each word he said and understanding them.

Without making much movement, Jaime gets off of the bed and walks around it until he stood on the other side. Staring down at his sleeping sister, his body refused to move. When the sun rose back into its proper place in the sky, she would be gone. How odd her absence will be. This would be much different from when she left Casterly Rock for Dragonstone. He would miss her terribly.

If you’re really there, Lord of Light, hear my plea and do not take it lightly. Protect her. She is your champion. If YOU prove to be worthy, then I will dedicate myself to the cause of the Fiery Hand and get one of those damn tattoos. I will live out the end of my days in service to you and (y/n). Just bring her back to me safely.

Leaning over her, Jaime made sure that she was deep in sleep before kissing the corner of her mouth; the only thing he would allow himself. R'hllor better bring back his sun, for without (y/n) there could be no sunshine for Jaime.

When he walked out into the darkened corridor, he felt something off; a very familiar sensation shot up his spin. In mere seconds a dagger was in Jaime’s hands as he glared into the shadows. “Alright, come out you darkin bastard.”

There was no way Jaime would ever get used to witnessing the darkin’s power at work. This creature was the perfect predator. No matter what (y/n)’s views on him, Inniros was nothing more than a monster to Jaime and many of the other Fiery Hands. His union with darkness itself, well, it was simply sinister in nature.

A ghost white face meets Jaime followed by a shock of red hair that was sheared close to his scalp. One lone blue eye greeted him and it was enough to make Jaime’s stomach ill. “You have escorted (y/n) safely to her bed, I presume?”

Indignation flared in Jaime, desiring nothing else but to bury his weapon deep into that remaining eye of his. “Were you spying on us?”

“You sound like you have something to hide.” replied Inniros, aggravating Jaime’s last nerves.

“You’re lucky my sister needs you to get through Asshai.”

“Both your sisters required my skill.” He nods. “But only one do I truly adhere to. My only target to ever survive. I haven’t had such a fight in quite a long time. (y/n) though, she bested me. My master will be curious to see her.”

He didn’t trust him yet Inniros was the one to go with (y/n), not Jaime. His fears crept back up on him about (y/n)’s safety. No way was he letting her go now, not without him.

Inniros sighed at the deadly glare that Jaime was stabbing into him. “Put away your daggers. I didn’t need to spy to understand your affections for her.”

“Then why are you here?!” Snapped Jaime. He wasn’t dumb enough to believe that he could take on Inniros one-on-one. Indeed Jaime possessed an infamous swordhand that won him a spot on the Kingsguard at the youngest age any had seen, but meant nothing against a darkin. The lighting of the sconces mounted on the hallway walls gave Inniros the complete upperhand as more shadows were flickering about.

Putting it bluntly, Inniros said “I’m sorry I killed your comrades. I’m sure they would have had more of a chance against a normal man.”

Not sure whether to laugh or to rip him apart, Jaime pressed his back against the hard stone wall and slammed his head hard. How easily he apologized with not an ounce of emotion! Then again, could darkin even have emotions? (y/n) had said he was a mortal just like them, but how could one still be human and wield such a villainous power and not be poisoned by it. . . Certainly there had to be a price that your soul paid.

“Your sister instructed me to kill anyone who was in my way. And she ideally wanted you returned to her alive.”

“Don’t talk about her.”

Waiting and allowing for Jaime to calm down, Inniros remained silent until he felt Jaime’s heart beat slow to a moderately normal rhythm. From a pocket within his black cloak, the darkin pulled out a leather pouch; tossing it at Jaime’s feet. Reaching his arm down to retrieve, Jaime’s eyes were trained on Inniros who didn’t seem to ever blink. In the sconce’s light he saw gold coins from varying countries in both Westeros and Essos. Jaime picked up a golden dragon coin, pursing his lips when he imagined who it came from.

Cersei. . . even I didn’t think you so hateful. Not the mischievous girl he had grown up with. The very one who would sneak off from her own lessons and switch with Jaime. As small children it was hard to tell them apart if they were not wearing gender distinguishing clothes. Many times unbeknown to the sword master himself, it would be Cersei wearing Jaime’s clothes; both having had the same length of hair.

“Do with it what you will. I don’t want it anymore. All of what Cersei gave me is there as well as my own from years traveling through Essos. You do not trust me and you are right not to. I hold no ill will toward you, Jaime Lannister. The condemnation I feel is for myself.” Clear that Inniros had no more words left to exchange, he begins his way past (y/n)’s door. He didn’t even pause as he passed by a gaping Jaime. No sound came from his footsteps but Jaime knew when he had turned the corner. The atmosphere that normally enveloped the general area when Inniros was around had disappeared.

Jaime weighed the pouch in his hand.

Thinking of Cersei.

Thinking of (y/n).

Taglist:

@boywivlove

@esposadomd

@domoron

@yentroucnagol

@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

@bregarc

[jamespotterthefirst]

Ma'am, I just saw that your fic "Babysitter" was inspired in an ask. An ask where you said, and I quote "She is definitely godmother to Sienna’s kid (and she is also their aunt because I HC sienna x mc’s brother oops)", so I need you to tell me if you still HC this, because it's almost 2 years old lol but also, I love that.

OMG!!! 😂

I love you for calling me out like this lmao

Sooo... I used to HC Jaime (Lilac's brother) and Sienna but I never developed it. The HC just sort of went away...

I haven't decided an endgame for either of them so idk, I might come back to it!

Thank you so much for reading that fic, babe 🧡

[takingcourage]

By Your Side

Pairing: Jaime x MC

Word Count: 1,150

Rating/Warnings: Teen; mild innuendo

Summary: New nightly accommodations lead Jaime and Arden to reveal their true feelings. 

Note: This story is a half-baked variation of the “there’s only one bed” trope, written for @choicesficwriterscreations​ ’s Silly Love Stories event. It also fits the @choicesfebchallenge​ prompt for “Gossip,” if you squint. 

Arden turned the corner sharply, small backpack hitting the ridge of her spine with an audible thump. She took a deep breath, resisting the urge to sigh with her exhale. Here, the air was clean and clear. 

If she wanted to, she could still catch the scent of the city on her clothes: the traces of asphalt and stale beer held tight to the collar of her denim jacket.

Maybe it was a good thing Ellen hadn’t been available for this trip, after all. It was difficult to imagine the older woman blending in at the downtown hostel for five whole days without setting off someone’s alarm bells. Comfortable as Arden was conducting interviews on the set of The Ellen and Arden Show, undercover investigations remained her favorite part of the job. When this opportunity had arisen, it had been too tantalizing lead for her to pass up. 

Behind her, a taxi slowed and came to a stop. The smack of the door was followed by a well-known pattern of footsteps. With Ellen otherwise engaged, she’d traded one partner for another. 

Patience running low, she slowed her tread for Jaime to catch up. This far from the city, she was no longer worried about people seeing them together. 

“Miss me?”

“Always,” she replied, a giggle hovering at her lips. 

The entered the hotel together, Jaime staying close as she checked them in for the night. He’d insisted many times that he was comfortable with the arrangements of the past week, though his unspoken concerns as they’d passed one another in the hostel hallways had been frequent. Clearly, he was just as relieved as she was to have reached this stage of the journey. Tomorrow's flight would take them both back to Northbridge and the normalcy that came with it.

Leaving the front desk with a smile, Arden pocketed the key cards and made a beeline to the elevator. The doors sealed shortly after, leaving her alone with Jaime for the first time in nearly a week.

“Did you--��� 

“I can’t wait to--” she hesitated upon realizing that they’d been speaking over each other. 

Sorry, too excited there. 

Arden smiled knowingly. “You go first,” she prompted, reveling in the feeling of his proximity and the comparative silence. These past few days, her mind had been so full. 

He shifted closer, the flannel of his sleeve raising the hairs on her forearm. “I was going to ask if you’d filled that notebook with new leads. I know I only saw bits and pieces, but it seemed like things were going well.” 

“So well! You would not believe how believe how much intel I got talking with those women.” 

"I might, actually, considering your ‘secret weapon’...”

Arden winked at his exaggerated air quotes. 

“...Anyway, what were you saying?”

“I was saying that I can’t wait to get cleaned up and put on fresh clothes.”

Their legs swayed with the motion of the elevator before it stabilized. “You’ll have your chance soon.” 

Key in hand, Arden led him into the hallway until they reached room 437. Jaime was close behind, still taking his role as protector a little too seriously. “This place is going to seem like a mansion after the bedrooms in the hostel,” she mused as the light on the handle flicked from red to green.

She hit the switch for the overhead light as she passed, taking in the quaint accommodations with an appreciation born of recent experience. Sensing Jaime’s presence nearby, she looked up to find his attention directed to the center of the room. 

“There’s only one bed,” he whispered. The hand that had been floating at her side made contact, thumb finding its way beneath the hem of her sweatshirt.

“Of course there is.” She arched into his touch, leaning her head back until it nudged his collarbone. "We’ve been married and sharing a bed for four years, Jaime. Were you expecting me to book a room with two?”

His eyes screwed up with distaste. “I’d push them together if you did.” 

“And I’d help. Hostels are excellent for blending in and getting in on local gossip, but not so much for spending time together.” She dropped her bag to the chair and began searching for her small pack of toiletries. 

"I’m just saying, I’m glad we’re together tonight.” 

“I am too.” Locating the desired object, she ventured toward the ensuite. “Turns out, it’s hard for me to sleep without having you there to grope me all night.” 

“Grope?” 

She showed him a sliver of tongue when he joined her at the sink. “You know what I mean.” 

“I’ll keep my hands to myself tonight,” he threatened, though his thoughts told her a very different story.

“Ha ha,” she intoned blandly before cutting a length of floss. Jaime grazed her with a hip on his way to the faucet, and quiet reigned for a few moments as they completed their respective tasks. Though his mouth was obscured by a toothbrush, she could make out his smile by the squint in his eyes. 

She grinned back, leaning away from him momentarily to dispose of her floss. “Also, I never realized how much your breathing lulls me to sleep. The room at the hostel wasn’t quiet, but it was the wrong kind of noise if that makes sense.” Arden prepped her own toothbrush while she waited for him to spit. 

“Perfect sense. I kept expecting to hear you to start talking half-asleep like you usually do when you’ve been researching all day.” 

Her eyes widened at the undesireable prospect. “Let’s hope my poor roommates weren’t subjected to too much incoherent mumbling. I try to save that for you.” Arden shoved the toothbrush into her mouth, expecting Jaime would follow his normal routine and hop into the shower within moments.

As predicted, the faucet started running just seconds later. “There’s one thing I didn’t miss.” He’d chosen the perfect moment to make his revelation: he was out of sight, and she was unable to speak. 

It didn’t take long for curiosity to get the better of her. “Hmmhh?”

“You trying to tuck your ice-cold nose into my shoulder blade.” 

Arden rinsed her mouth quickly. “Sorry, but I can’t promise I won’t do it again. You’re awfully warm.” 

One end of the curtain opened to reveal her husband’s familiar face. Even from several feet away, Arden could make out the glimmer of water on his dark lashes. “As long as my days end with you next to me in bed, Arden, I don’t care what state you come in.” Although you did kind of stink earlier... And come to think of it, I’m very, very warm right now. 

Without waiting to hear anything further, she shed her jacket and sweatshirt onto their growing pile of clothes on the cold floor. She’d been planning to shower regardless; resisting her sudden urge to shower with him seemed foolish. 

“Thought so,” Jaime chuckled, pulling the curtain shut again as she entered from the other side. 

[brightpinkpeppercorn]

Choices MC Appreciation Week: Day Four // hosted by @choicesmcappreciation

Inspiring Individuals: Leoni Link from Wishful Thinking

This sweet commission was from the incredible @shazrystyles . Thank you!

[justapenguinfanatic]

Jaime for @choicescocappreciationweek 💖

Day 6: Wishful Thinking

[omgjasminesimone]

Pets

Jaime x MC

A/N: Quick ficlet for day 3 of @choicesmonthlychallenge

...

Jaime lifts the diet cat food to his nose, taking a whiff. His nose scrunches in distaste. That is absolutely foul.

He’s schooled his expression into a pleasant smile before he places the bowl to the floor in front of Jinx. “Mmm!” He exclaims.

Jinx sniffs the food, and then gives him a look.

“Don’t look at me like that. This stuff is good for you!” Jaime insists.

Jinx’s unimpressed stare only intensifies.

“The vet says you need to lose ten pounds.” Jaime counters. Jinx glares at him. Jaime turns to Lydia, who’s enjoying her morning coffee at their kitchen table. “What is she thinking?”

“You don’t want to know.” Lydia replies.

[ladykateofledfordpark]

It's missing Jaime Lewis hours, folks. ❤