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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 1 year ago

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From the Ashes Pt. 27

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,

Words: 3203

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 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42

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

“Ah! So you’re a Westerosi knight like Jaime!” One of the soldiers excitedly speaks to him. A relief to Selmy. But then he realized the voice belonged to a woman. . . The open corridor which his small escort was leading him down offered much light. Without a doubt this soldier was a woman. Her hair was black like a raven’s feathers and just as full. Long, it trailed down her back in a thick braid. Since being in Essos, Ser Barristan had grown accustomed to seeing tattooed faces of all ages and races. Men and women alike, the slave trade didn’t descriminate. Beyond this girl’s teardrop tattoo below her right eye and orange flames on her cheeks, she was very pretty. High cheekbones highlight her dark almond shaped eyes.

“Yes.” Barristan saw the twitch of her bare biceps. A pretty face and a body of a warrior. To him, this female warrior was an oddity. Ladies back in Westeros were dainty and dared not to use any weapon. This woman however had a curved sword strapped to her back and another blade hanging from her waist.

“Where is your armor?” She dances around him, unable to keep still for too long.

The tiny girl that was at the head of them stopped and turned around. “Ilta. Bisa iksis vala hen Vesteros. Istia sagon tolī rāpa.” This is a man of Westeros. You must be more formal.

‘Ilta’, skids to a halt and nods. “Paktot. Kirimvose, Inanna.” Right. Thank you. “Sorry. I am Ilta. Part of the Fiery Hand. Sworn to protect and aid nuha kosh in her journey.”

“You fight?”

Proudly she nods. "I do!"

“You’re still not better than me.” Her companion chuckles light heartedly. She returns the jest with a faux punch to his arm.

Selmy catches ‘Inanna’s’ watchful eyes. She smiles sweetly. “Ah, it’s true then what (y/n) has told us. There are no women knights.”

“She speaks the truth. Not only are there no women knights, but where I come from, women are discouraged from wielding such dangerous weapons. They could hurt themselves.” Right away regret made his mouth seal tightly.

Ilta stares at him before laughing. “Lī hen Vesteros issi sīr dovodedha” Those from Westeros are so silly!

The other two chuckle making Barristan feel foolish. He knew Valyrian. Understood it perfectly. He knew they were bashing on Westeros and the customs. Well, to Selmy their customs were just as strange.

“Women can fight here.” she proclaims after her fit. “It is better than the alternative. And it is an honor to fight alongside nuha kosh. You know where I was before becoming a Fiery Hand?”

No. He did not know.

Haakon grows quiet, a little shifty as he grows uncomfortable. “Ilta, that’s not necessary.”

“He’s probably just like Jaime was when he first arrived here: arrogant and thinking he’s better than us.” She snaps at him and turns on Selmy. Inanna helplessly watches, but she seemed quite used to Ilta’s temper. “I was nothing but a whore in the pleasure houses. The temple initially brought me in to be their whore as well, but when I saw that there were women in their army I knew that that life must be better. And it is. I open my legs for no man now unless I deem them worthy enough.”

Self Consciously Selmy felt his face grow warm.

Inanna stops in front of a door and thankfully saves him. “Here is your room, Ser."

“Who is your champion?” He asks Inanna, hand hovering over the doorknob. There had been nonstop talk of this champion. Not familiar with their odd religion, Barristan was truly in a foreign place. Even though he would not be staying long, he should at least be aware of the customs here.

Her eyes go blank before registering the meaning of his question. Before she could reply it is Ilta who spurts out “Our Lady (y/n) of course! You knew her back when she lived in Westeros. She was a princess back then but now she is something much better.”

“Ilta, gīda (calm). Kesā sȳngagon zirȳla lēda aōha perzys (You will scare him with your fire.)” Haakon intervenes and puts a burly hand on Ilta’s shoulder.

(y/n) again. “What exactly is she now?” He deserved some answers after having traveled for so long.

Inches away from him now, Ilta is tall for a woman. “She is Azor Ahai reborn. Our champion.”

Barristan Selmy gazes out of his rather large prison cell. A prison cell that held a comfortable bed and a beautiful sight of the lazy rolling ocean. Truly superb, but still a cell no matter how well it was made up. He was a guest under (y/n)’s protection. Princess (y/n ). . . Selmy couldn’t say she looked exactly the same as when he last saw her. Clear that the year she had been gone had been an eventful one. It did wonders for her. Her tanned complexion made her look more appealing, even the scar that was above her left eyebrow. The biggest change though was the sword that hung off of her hip. Immediately upon her arrival he had seen it and wondered if she knew how to use it. Funny how both she and Tyrion, people who one would not normally see wielding swords, now had blades at the ready. The Lannister children were indeed an oddity.

Now she also had terrifying men at her beck and call. Not just men but women as well. The prostitute turned soldier. Seems like anything could happen in Volantis.

This wasn’t the same girl who resided quietly at the Keep. She had power now. That much was clear from what he had observed. Even the High Priest of their temple appeared to be delighted to do whatever she requested. Still, the gentle and tender tone of her voice hadn’t changed. When she turned to one of her robe clad men that held an oddly shaped sword, she spoke softly and respectfully toward him. Most of the people he had seen her interact with apparently adored her. Things were different here.

Which made Selmy all the more wary that he had been confined. He would bide his time though and wait patiently. **

You wiped your face free of tears before shutting your door and starting your way to Rhiannon’s room. Just needing a few minutes to yourself was all you asked of. There was a lot to mourn. Worst of all was a phantom ache you felt deep within where your baby had once dwelled.

Tyrion answered your knock with a grin. He holds up a small wooden cube. “Rhiannon has all sorts of these puzzles in her room! It’s like the chest except smaller.”

Behind him, Rhiannon was at a small table and the mysterious chest before her. Around it were scraps of paper and other oddly shaped objects. Her room was narrow with a tall, slender, window that provided her with decent lighting.

Rhiannon had let you into her room multiple times although she would be rather shy about doing so. Embarrassed and claiming that it was too small and not suitable for you. You had never seen the puzzles before. She must have kept them in the trunk at the foot of her bed.

She smiles and turns in her chair so she could properly greet you. “Nuha kosh I hope all went well.”

“Somewhat. Ser Barristan will be here for just the night, but I fear the Fiery Hands will insist upon keeping a close eye on him.”

“Fiery Hands?” Tyrion returns to his stool that was placed beside Rhiannon.

Winking at him, Rhiannon reveals that the Fiery Hand is his sister’s personal army. To do with as she pleases and order as she saw fit. It was still weird to hear all the power you now had. But it was worth it if it meant impressing a stunned Tyrion.

His eyes are sparkling when he regards you and it makes you blush. “Wow (y/n)! You’re like. . . a king now.”

“Not exactly a king.” Rhiannon explains while unlodging a piece of the box she was working on. Everyone holds their breath and watches as she slides out another piece of wood.

“Rhiannon!”

“It’s coming undone.” Smiling at her achievement, Rhiannon rubs at her tired eyes and sits back in her chair. “But I doubt Thalina made it this easy. I may have been able to do this much, but if it��s important then Thalina would have made this puzzle more difficult so not just anyone could solve it.”

“Maybe she foresaw you helping me.” You smile tenderly. “She knew only you would be able to solve it.”

A dry laugh leaves her along with a tired sigh. “She gives me too much credit. But this makes me feel nostalgic. I like it. Feels like she’s here with me in some way.”

Despondent smile on your face, you knew her bittersweet emotions. Even though Thalina was not related to you by blood in any way, she had been much like an older sister to you in your early years at Dragonstone. Thalina proved to be far better than your actual blood sister.

In support you squeeze her shoulder gently. You would like to consider Rhiannon your sister as well. If you still had Thalina around, you would have wanted her to go to Asshai with you.

Yawning, Tyrion slowly blinks his eyes. He must have had a long journey. You sweep back one of his blonde curls. His hair was so long and wild but surprisingly not matted. Soft to the touch and without splitting. All signs that he had been well taken care of at least during his exodus.

“You are tired. Why don’t I show you to my room. The servants can clean the room next door and make it proper for you.”

“I must know though. . . What’s inside. . .”

“And you will. But I also need rest.” Rhiannon patiently grins. “We will both sleep and when we wake up refreshed, we can get back to work. How does that sound little lord?”

It was enough to satisfy Tyrion as he nodded and let you take his hand. “Sleep well, Rhiannon.”

“You as well, my lady.”

The very moment Tyrion’s head landed on the pillow, he was out like a light. He was still young and could only take so much excitement. When Inanna arrived to tell you that she had safely delivered Ser Barristan to his lodgings, you nod and tell her to keep an eye on Tyrion. You had left Inniros so abruptly that you wanted to go and apologize to him. And to tell him the miracle that had happened. Only. . . He wasn’t in his cell.

Dread filled you and at once you felt sick.

Shadows became more sinister to you once you put your hand at the hilt of Lightbringer. “Inniros?!”

Silence replied back. You were alone. Running out to try and find someone you bump into Dritan at the top of the stairs. He settles his hands on your shoulders to prevent you from falling back from shock. His ever passive face looks down at you. “Nuha kosh, High Priest Benerro wishes for an audience with you. He has your darkin with him.” When the word ‘darkin’ left his mouth, his lips twisted as if tasting something bitter.

If only you could feel relief at finding out that Inniros didn’t actually escape. Benerro moved fast when he wanted to. And the old priest knew how Inniros made many people at the temple nervous.

Thankfully all was well when you arrived in the large chapel that the priests held their sermons in. You weren’t used to seeing it quite that empty. The majority of the attendees were Hands, many of which had been in the council room when Barristan Selmy had been questioned.

Inniros was in shackles and on his knees in front of the High Priest. Silly of them to put shackles on a darkin who could easily slip into their own shadow and out of their restraints. The red priests and priestesses possessed strange magic though that you knew not to doubt.

“I’m sorry to call upon you on such short notice. All the flurry of today must be wearing down on you.”

“Not at all. What can I do for you?”

The High Priest shakes his head. “Not what you can do for me, rather what this darkin can do for you. I have been told that you have been visiting him frequently in his cell.”

“Am I not allowed to?”

“Oh no!” Benerro holds his hands up. “You are free to do as you please, nuha kosh. All I want is to know your opinion on him.”

Shifting on his heels, Inniros turns around to look up at you. Again he was in this humiliating situation of subservience. Even after all that he had done to you, you didn’t like seeing him on his knees. For the last few weeks you had sat at his level so that you could build trust and familiarity.

“My opinion?” His lone pale eye stared at you without a hint of malice or ill-will. You still didn’t know him that well, only barely scratching the surface of this complex man. “He loves his mother very much. Inniros has proved to me that he has humanity and gentleness. Whatever trouble he has caused me. . . it wasn’t of his own volition-”

“He murdered our brothers, nuha kosh! Your men!” Dritan calls out. Weles glares at him to be quiet but Dritan refuses to obey his commander. “He can’t be trusted. If you let him walk free among us, he will try to kill you again.”

“I don’t believe he will.” Anxious to explain, you are cut off again by another member of the Fiery Hand.

“Nuha kosh, you can’t be so trusting and naive. You have seen what this monster can do in a short amount of time. While you have Lightbringer to protect you our own spells can only do so much for our benefit. He mowed down some of our most high ranking men. Don’t sully Feichin’s name by trusting his murderer!”

“SILENCE!” Weles snapped with a roar of his voice. Those near him flinched from the authority that vibrated. He walked over to the one who had just spoken and backhanded them. So sharp you could hear the sting of it making you inwardly draw back. “I should have you skinned for speaking against nuha kosh. And Feichin wasn’t murdered. He died in battle trusting in Azor Ahai reborn.”

The smacked Fiery Hand seethed, revenge screaming in his eyes as he clenched his fists. Did he dare risk his life by attacking Weles? Such repercussions could involve his own execution. Then he looked at you. Dritan’s gaze added to the heaviness you were feeling. You knew such a look from having received it numerous times in your childhood: resentment.

Realizing his options, he bites his tongue and hangs his head low. “Forgive me, nuha kosh.”

Your cheeks were warm with embarrassment. How in the world were you supposed to reply to that?

For the first time in a while, you thought about your father. How would Tywin deal with this? Everyone considered him a great lord despite his cold demeanor. He was harsh but got the job done.

Weles looks to you for instruction, not budging from his place. He was pushing you more and more to make your own decisions. Azor Ahai called for leadership skills which you had been lacking in all your life. You had been expected to listen and obey. Not step out of line and merely be seen, never heard.

The safest option was. . . “Take him to a cell. He can be dealt with at a later time.”

Surprise widened his eyes when Sirvart and Chetna flag either side of him. There was no fight against them. Ashamed, he followed obediently like a beaten dog. Weles nodded to you and offered a small smile.

“Sounds like you speak highly of the darkin.”

“Inniros. His name is Inniros.”

“Of course. My apologies.” Benerro bows his head. “Inniros, (y/n) seems to speak highly of you. Is there anything you would like to say in return?”

You didn’t expect him to actually speak.“My actions, as (y/n) knows, were purely done out of obligation. I had no idea prior to who she was. I never believed in the own stories my master would tell me of Azor Ahai. Having witnessed for myself the power of (y/n). . . it’s all true. My powers are indebted to (y/n). I have felt R’hllor’s warmth through her.”

His kind words made you heat up from a new kind of blush. High Priest Benerro seemed extremely satisfied with his words as well. “Very well. Inniros, I grant your release from your cell.”

You’re shaken awake by Tyrion. It looked like Inanna had already helped him get dressed and had brushed his unruly hair. “(y/n)! Wake up! I just checked in on Rhiannon just now. She’s ready to pull out the final piece!”

Scrambling to throw on a robe, your trio leaves your room for the priestess’ chambers. Her long hair was still loose and not in her signature high braided ponytail. Clothed in a simple daisy yellow nightgown, she allows you to enter. The box on her table still looked the same minus a few missing pieces.

“Is it true?”

“I believe so, my lady.” Rhiannon replies and her fingers hover over what you surmised was the piece that would make the whole thing open. Her hair was so beautiful, much like Thalina’s had been before cut off by Viserys. Rippling with soft waves and making a curtain of hair as she leaned forward. She turns her face up at you. “Would you like the honors?”

Heart in your throat, you stand beside her making sure Tyrion had full view. She showed you which piece to slide out. How odd, you would have thought that the chest had been made with solid wood. Never would you have guessed that it was composed of smaller pieces. Tyrion kept close to your side and watched with bated breath.

Easily sliding out, the rest of the box fell apart to reveal a rather large opal that looked like it had scales carved into it.

“A-An opal?”

"It's rather large to be an opal." Inanna comments.

"It's so pretty!"

"There's a note." Grabbing the slip of paper, Rhiannon reads aloud: "(y/n), I give you the true jewel of Dragonstone where we spent every passing day together. There may be a little life left inside.

"It's signed by Thalina. And this is her handwriting." She hands it to you, a little confused of the meaning of the letter.

"From Dragonstone. . . ?" Tentatively you set the note aside and go to pick up the large gemstone. You had never seen such a beautiful stone at Dragonstone. You would have remembered. It was heavier than you thought as you lifted it up.

Why did Thalina leave this behind for you?

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