#mc x jaime
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Cove, Terry, and Randy, also at the venue, watching all of this unfold like: 🤯, 👀🍿, 👁️👄👁️
#our life#our life beginnings & always#olba#jaime last#baxter ward#baxter dlc#baxter x mc#cove holden#miranda eckert#terry brook#princess plays games
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more misc of the laneous
#we got opie being a villain; opie and jaime goodness; brandish being my gf and me making a comeback#opie tua#adam x mc#mackenzie x mc#choices ame
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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!
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From the Ashes Pt. 35
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, long chapter ahead
Words: 6023
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
Book Two of Dārilaros hen ōrbar se perzys (Heir of Ash and Fire)
Panting and reeling away from her personal brazier, Alizah closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Her face was still warm from the gentle licks the fire gave her as she had been staring deep into its flames. She had to know of any situations that might follow them to Asshai. Especially with confronting the darkins in their own realm. Alizah had never anticipated seeing a screeching dragon in her visions. So clear, the dragon had emerged from an egg that was being held by (y/n). Soaring through the rippling orange and yellow before growing ever larger and landing next to its mistress.
Alizah pulled up a chair and mulls over what she had just seen and the true meaning behind it. If only she was able to write down what she saw like many of the other red priestesses. Alas her blind eyes would merely be able to make scribbles. The only time she ever saw clearly was looking into the heat of the things, the soul of a being. She knew it would be wise to tell High Priest Benerro, after all she was his shining star in the whole temple and was heavily relied on. That’s how the temple knew (y/n) was in Volon Therys. And it was the vision of a box being delivered by a stranger that tied into the scenes she had seen at that moment.
When Ser Barristan Selmy had arrived on the doorsteps with a dark wood box under his arm, she had seen the warmth emanating from inside. It was a sleeping warmth that she had nearly waved off for it was a faint flicker. A box from Thalina.
“Did she actually succeed?” Alizah thought out loud to just herself. Thalina’s talent in reading the flames had been growing steadily before her departure to Westeros. Helped by Alizah and Melisandre, there were high hopes for her but only a handful of people knew of Thalina’s ultimate fate. Thalina had seen her own end but had just laughed it off. She never did like being serious. The air around her was always jubilant and Thalina had always been a smiling fool. That was the impression she left on everyone in the temple.
“I’m sorry. . .” Alizah whispered behind her hand after Thalina had told her how her life would end.
Thalina merely cocked her head to one side, her long braids shifting ever so slightly. “For what?”
“That you will not live a long life. That you will die in Westeros. . .”
Her laugh had surprised Alizah and Melisandre who had also been present. There in that solemn council room sat the senior red priest members Hayri and Iomhar, as they were the ones to be in attendance when the High Priest was unable to physically be there. “Ah, I’m not too worried about that. I’m more so concerned about getting all of my tasks done before that happens. If I can accomplish all that I have set forth in front of me, then I can die happily.”
“You shouldn’t be so callous when talking about your own death.” Iomhar growled but it didn’t dampen her smile. “The temple has so few people who can read the flames as well as you three can. To lose one would be a setback.”
Hayri, although perturbed by the revelations, shakes his head at his younger companion. “Settle down, Iomhar. Thalina is thinking about the bigger picture. We won’t need any more readers if she procures Azor Ahai reborn.”
Thalina beamed and nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! If I’m able to get her here. . . Then I would have done my job. But there is also one more thing I aim to do.”
“And what is that?”
“Why, bring back dragons of course!”
Bring back dragons. . .
It was too crazy a thought, that’s what everyone was thinking at the time. Melisandre was the only one who didn’t think it quite as crazy. She had said it was exactly what Azor Ahai reborn would need to truly make a stand. Alizah had never thought that Thalina would actually succeed in procuring a dragon egg.
“You were always a crazy girl.” Her voice was sad as she thought back on the girl who was the same age as her yet already gone from this plain of existence. Everything Thalina did, she did fearlessly. An admirable quality. “Guess I’ll have to be the same. You have left her in my care. I will see to it that your visions come true, Thalina.”
Also important in the back of her mind was making sure that Rhiannon would be guided in the right path. That didn’t appear to be a problem. Rhiannon had immediately attached herself to (y/n) and (y/n) to her
They filled the empty spot in which Thalina’s death had left them.
A festive atmosphere had claimed Volantis, especially around the Red Temple; the hub of the ceremony. None of the jovial air reached you though. Thinking of being in front of so many people still made you nervous. All eyes would be on you. You hadn’t felt such trepidation since your wedding. There would be more people at your ceremony and certain expectations had already been set for you. You wouldn’t become Princess (y/n) Targaryen, no, you would be crowned as Azor Ahai reborn; the champion of R’hllor and the ender of the long night.
Your ceremonial headdress solemnly sat on its pillow. Tyrion had playfully tried it on and nearly toppled over, not used to such an accessory. While the robes had once belonged to Azor Ahai, the headdress was completely new, made specifically for you and this occasion. Inanna and another young temple girl named Farah were helping you get dressed, slipping your arm through the gilded sleeves. They chatted excitedly as they did so, apparently the temple was making this a very big deal. After all, their savior had finally been reincarnated and walking on the earth among them. The people of Volantis were already crowding near the bridge to get a sneak peek of the set up. Servants were setting up a pyre right outside the doors of the temple. A special feast was being prepared as well.
While Rhiannon positioned a gold armor breastplate in front of your chest, you examine your painted hands which Siofra had done for you. The dye was a dark brown and in intricate designs. You were worried about smudging it but tall Siofra merely laughed and told you it would not be an issue. The only thing that would wash away the ink would be hot water and soap.
Personally you didn’t think that it was an appropriate time to have your ceremony, but High Priest Benerro along with his council of priests insisted the people of Volantis see the face of Azor Ahai reborn before you left for Asshai.And most importantly to witness Lightbringer with their own eyes. You were nervous, what if you weren’t able to conjure up the flames when the time came? You had still been unable to call upon it freely, not since your fight with Inniros. Without its holy flames, Lightbringer was just like any other sword.
Farah helps Rhiannon by tightening the armor’s straps behind you. When her warm eyes flick up to your face, Rhiannon frowns. “Are you okay? You don’t look too well.”
Inanna pops up, having been helping Tyrion with his own outfit. Even Tyrion looks up with concern. “Perhaps I should get nuha kosh something to eat?”
Tyrion shakes his head. “Get her some tea. You don’t want her to develop an upset stomach and throw up during her ceremony.”
She smiles sweetly, making Tyrion’s cheeks turn a vibrant pink. “Ah, that’s a better idea! Good thinking Lord Tyrion.”
In the corner of your room, lounging at your round table was Jaime and Inniros being briefed on their roles by Alizah and Melisandre. Behind Inniros was Sirvart leaning against the wall but with a cautious eye on the darkin, her whip at the ready. The red priest Kafele, a man in his middle age, was in attendance as well to decorate Jaime’s own hands with the same dye Siofra had used on you. Initially he had grimaced when the older man had walked up to him with it and outright refusing. Tyrion told him to suck it up and to add salt to his wound had Kafele paint his own hands. Jaime, not being one to be outshined, relented.
Inanna goes to the packed table and pours you a cup of tea that would calm you. Carefully you take it from her small dark hands and thank her. A chair is also brought over to you so you could sit down and relax for a moment. Rhiannon helped you sit, holding your robes in such a way where they wouldn’t get stuck under you. “I’m fine. I’m just worried about using Lightbringer in front of all those people. I haven’t been able to summon the flames.”
“When the time is right, you will.” Melisandre says, although it didn’t necessarily make you feel any better. All you could do was blindly trust in her cryptic words.
“Maybe you just need to stab Inniros’ shadow again.” Jaime grins and teasingly looks at the bored darkin.
Inniros doesn’t blink an eye at Jaime’s remark, merely shrugging. “You can try.”
You shake your head. “No, I don’t think that’s necessary.”
Rhiannon hums thoughtfully, sitting at your feet and resting her head against your knees. “What emotions were you feeling when you first summoned Lightbringer’s flames?”
Thinking back to that day, you grow silent and close your eyes. You attempted to put yourself back there in your mind. You remember seeing Jaime, held down by Inniros’ shadow and about to be killed. Rage had filled you. Unadulterated rage ran through your veins and the urge to protect your older brother. Such an intense feeling was something you had never felt. Sorrow was nothing new to you. Even growing up with your cruel sister and distant father, you hadn’t felt resentment, only sadness that they didn’t love you or even care for you. Rage and anger was something entirely new to you.
You look at Jaime who wasn’t particularly paying attention until the red priest puts down his brush and turns around in his seat to face you. Kafele had the starting of wrinkles around his dark eyes and a peppered beard that covered his lower face. The top of his head was bald and shining. “Maybe you should call upon whatever you were feeling during that experience.”
“I’m not particularly angry about anything though. . .” You whisper against the rim of your cup.
“You have plenty to be angry about though!” chirps your little brother as he climbs atop of your bed, his red robes drag behind him. “Just think about all the things Cersei and father have done to you! And King Aerys!”
“I’m guessing you’re not used to feeling such a toxic feeling.” Alizah gently smiles.
“Obviously. Don’t you remember how she looked the first time we met her?” Sirvart speaks up from her place. “She didn’t even look like she could harm a fly. So sweet and wide eyed. Like a rabbit.”
Thinking for a moment, Jaime leans in his chair. “Well Cersei did use to call you a mouse.”
Clapping her hands, Sirvart nods. “That sounds more accurate!”
Blushing at their description of you, you still doubted that you could come up with such an intense rush again. It had nearly consumed you and. . . and something seemed to wake up inside of you. A feral beast that had been sleeping for so long. Just thinking about it made your heart pick up pace.
Rhiannon’s upside down face calms you back down and forces you to put on a wavering smile.
“It’s not the end of everything if you can’t do it yet.” Alizah’s words do happen to give you peace of mind. You trusted her word. “Of course Benerro will want you to show off, an actual testament that you are indeed Azor Ahai reborn. You’re still getting used to fighting with it. The two of you need to know eachother better. You and Lightbringer. It may be a sword, but it’s an extension of yourself and of the power of R’hllor.”
You had never really thought about it like that. If only you knew more about the actual Azor Ahai and how he had done all the things that was expected of him. True, the temple put you through lessons on their faith and history, never on a personal level. You had learned hymns and the many trials that Azor Ahai went through to forge Lightbringer. Definitely nothing you had to do. He had labored thirty days and thirty nights to forge the sword. Even then it broke had he had to repeat his actions again. And then again. Someone made your Lightbringer. Maybe it was because you didn’t put in your blood, sweat and tears into the steel? There was no personal connection.
Finishing up your tea, Rhiannon stood and took it from your waiting hand. She lingers before whispering for just your ears to hear “Don’t worry. Thalina had faith in you. Have faith in Thalina too.”
The first true smile you felt in the entire day warmed you from the inside. You couldn’t worry about it. Worrying now would do nothing for you in the long run. When the moment came, well, then you would deal with it. Thalina had gotten you this far and she hadn’t been wrong yet.
You nod and catch Jaime’s gaze. Hardly ever having his emotions on his sleeves, you saw evident worry in the depths of his eyes. The two of you had gone through so much. You had spent more time with him in Essos than you ever had growing up in Casterly Rock. Growing to know each other like the back of your hands you knew Jaime was concerned with all this fanfare and the pressure it was putting on you. He kept his thoughts to himself and merely pressed his lips together, returning his attention to the artful details being painted onto his hands and running up to his elbow. The dye was meant for warriors afterall. Sirvart was displaying her own designs as her arms were folded, obediently observing the darkin.
Going back to preparing the boys, Melisandre finishes with her words directed to Inniros. “I know you boys will be on your best behavior today. It will be the most important day of your lives. The world will know that (y/n) is Azor Ahai reborn.”
For the first time, Inniros showed interest. “The whole world?”
Melisandre nods, narrowing her eyes at him in suspicion. “Of course.”
“Even all the way to Westeros?”
Rhiannon caught on fast and a new sense of dread made her clutch her skirts. “The king will know she’s alive then. And. . . your sister will know where you are.”
Had she told you that a few months ago, most likely you would have been stricken with the same fear. You felt nothing though. If all of Westeros knew you were alive, Rhaegar would know too. Hope sprung up immediately and you couldn’t stop your smile from widening. “I’m not scared of Cersei. Or of Aerys.”
Melisandre smiled at you with great pride and even Sirvart smirked. The female Fiery Hand chuckles. “You certainly have grown since your days stumbling in Volon Therys.”
On your night stand was the box which the ancient dragon egg had been hiding. You get up from your seat and wander over to it, making sure your back concealed what you were looking at. But Tyrion knew as he craned his neck slightly on your bed. With the hope bubbling in you, touching the rough scales of the egg seemed to amplify that light feeling that tickled your chest. Rhaegar will know you’re alive. Hopefully once he knew maybe he would come for you once the war was over. Better yet, you hoped he would wait for your eventual return. You would always return to him. Now it felt like a closer reality.
Gentle footsteps fall behind you and in one fluid motion, you hide your opal and turn around. Alizah is standing in front of you, that permanent gentle smile. “Nuha kosh, may I have a private word with you in the antechamber?”
“Of course.” Picking up the skirts of your robes as not to get the hem dirty, you walk over to her.
“You as well, Rhiannon.” She addresses Rhiannon who had been polishing your ceremonial headwear. Slightly confused as to her summons, Rhiannon steadily joins you over to the door that leads to the antechamber. The walls are curved making the room a circular shape with a royal blue rug on the floor. A stout, round coffee table was in the center, surrounded by dark orange cushions. Other multi-colored pillows were present for added comfort.
Rhiannon made herself comfortable, laying on her side across the cushions. Honestly it was unladylike since she was in a dress, but that’s what you liked about Rhiannon. She was so comfortable with herself.
Without any assistance, Alizah sits down on the plush ground and looks up at you. Her smile widens at your expression. “Don’t look so worried. I was merely wanting to discuss the matter of that box that was so kindly delivered by Barristan Selmy.”
You had been waiting for one of the Red Temple clergy to ask you about it and you knew it lay heavy on their minds. If it was from Thalina that meant it was something of great importance. The question was on their tongues but they were willing to wait until you were ready to tell them.
Nodding, you decide that you trust Alizah enough to tell her the truth about what Thalina had sent you and the darkin confirming it’s true nature.
None of what you told her seemed to surprise the red priestess one bit. “And Rhiannon, you were the one who solved the puzzle to break open the box. How clever of your older sister. She planned out everything thus far and the events have been executed precisely. (y/n), Rhiannon, Thalina had another goal besides bringing the two of you together. Something else she had foreseen in the flames and that was bringing back dragons.”
That made Rhiannon sit up, her brows scrunched. “Bring back dragons? Thalina saw that actually happening?”
She nods and glances at you. “(y/n) is the key to everything. That is why I’m not too concerned if you can’t summon the fire of Lightbringer. Because during the ceremony you will take that egg and hatch it in front of all to see.”
You gawked at her before laughing nervously. When Alizah didn’t say she was kidding, you stopped and became anxious once more. “I think it would be more simple to try and get Lightbringer’s flames to surface. But, dragons Alizah. . . Dragons haven’t been seen for a century. Even Aerys couldn’t resurrect the last surviving dragon eggs. And now you truly expect me to do the impossible.”
“Thalina didn’t think it too impossible.” Alizah replies but pats the spot next to her for you to sit. “Relax. I have a plan set up. I’ve seen in my own visions a great pyre in which you sit in the center with your dragon egg.”
“She’ll burn!” Rhiannon exclaimed, looking panicked at the mere thought.
You were about to agree with her but then a faint memory arises; you laying down on the cushioned grass, still smelling of smoke while Jaime told you of the events that had previously taken place. You were still weak and slightly ill but you could never forget Jaime telling you how despite your room being up in flames, they didn’t touch you. Even as the fire consumed your bed and the corpse of Thalina. You had remained in one piece with no burn marks.
Alizah seemed to read your thoughts with her vacant, dark eyes. “Fire will not harm you. Not R’hllor’s champion.”
Rhiannon didn’t like it though, her fingers curling into her palm as she rocked on her heels. “We can’t risk it. . . If fire does harm her-”
“That’s the thing about faith. Sometimes you have to squash down your worries and blindly hope that things will work out. When you have a higher power to trust in, anything may be possible.”
“Sure, blindly believe. But what if your theory proves to be wrong? I’m not-” You noticed Rhiannon’s eyes begin to shine with the threat of tears that she tried to brusquely wipe away. “-I’m not losing another sister.”
Ever so slowly your own vision became hazy as your own tears became obstructive. Not even Cersei had claimed you with such pride and worry as her sister. Yet here Rhiannon was, calling you her sister. A lump developed in your throat as you try not to cry. They wouldn’t obey you and tears soon trickled down your cheek. It was too sweet and too heartbreaking.
“You told me to believe in Thalina, Rhiannon.” You took a deep breath and dabbed at your eyes with the sleeve of your robes. “To have faith in her. I’m scared too, but Thalina has yet to be wrong. If she saw that I was the one to bring back dragons, then I must be. Right? And If Alizah sees me not succumbing to the fire, then all I can do is try and live up to her vision.”
Pursed lips, Rhiannon’s shoulder trembled a little bit as her mind spiraled with all of the negative outcomes that could happen.
“In order to even hope to have the courage to go through with this, I need you by my side.” If Rhiannon wasn’t there with you to transfer her endless supply of bravery, you knew you would crumble on the spot.
“You shouldn’t let your fear show, Viserys is like an animal. He can smell fear.” Thalina had told you one day after he had threatened you. You had witnessed first hand the cruelty of Viserys after he had taken a blade and cut off Thalina’s beautiful braids. That incident had made you steer clear of the young Targaryen prince. He had the same malicious tendencies as Cersei.
“But he scares me.” You whimpered.
Thalina laughs. “That little squid? Trust me, he is nothing to fear. He’s just a bully. You just have to show him that you aren’t going to put up with his attitude.”
“I can’t do that. He’s a prince of the Seven Kingdoms. If I do something to displease him, he’ll tell the king.”
Moving a piece of your dirty blonde hair behind your ear, Thalina hums. “But you are Rhaegar’s future bride. One day you will be queen. That trumps being a prince. Viserys will be second in line for the throne until you produce an heir. Then he will be obsolete.”
When Viserys had cut off her hair, Thalina was livid and had grabbed the prince to promptly spank him on his rear. The horror you felt watching it. You had been sure that there would be terrible repercussions from her actions. You had tried to get Thalina to run away, worried that there would be guards showing up at any moment to execute her. But there was none. Only the matronly septa who turned her head, pretending not to see anything. Viserys had run howling to Queen Rhaella but received another reprimand from his mother.
You always wished you could be fearless like Thalina. Being next to her, you could feel her courage seep into you for as long as Thalina was by your side. When she was around you weren’t afraid of Viserys but Viserys was afraid of Thalina.
“I no longer have Thalina in my life. I need you Rhiannon.”
Gulping down her emotions, Rhiannon wipes her face. She was trying her best to put on a tough facade. Helplessly she looks at you with red rimmed eyes and determination.
“Then it shall be done, mandia(sister).”
A weight was lifted off of you. Now you could confidently ask Alizah “What do you need me to do?”
“Promise me one thing.” Jaime had one hand on the handle of the temple’s front door. A giant of a structure that led out to the crowd you could hear waiting with anticipation to see you.
Rhiannon on your left and Tyrion accompanying you on your right, you glance at your older brother.He didn’t look straight at you, choosing to keep his gaze focused forward.
Your entourage that trailed behind you stood silently.
Your left hand held your large opal while the other kept a steady grip on Lightbringer’s pommel. “What’s that?”
“Please don’t burn to a crisp.”
“Jaime!” Rhiannon remarks in a sharp tone before shaking her head with exasperation.
Actually you quite appreciated Jaime’s lighthearted attempt at diffusing your nerves that were already at a debilitating amount. “Hah, yeah, I’ll try.”
“You know what I mean.” He takes a deep breath.
“Do you not think I can do it?”
“Absolutely not.” Finally turning in him, you take all of Jaime in. The scar under his dancing green eyes. His long braid he had incorporated into his hair, casually resting on his shoulder. He wore armor over his ceremonial garb with vambraces that shimmered gold. Rubies and topaz decorated the rimmed arc “I would be a fool if I thought you couldn’t do this. I witnessed the most impossible things. Well, nothing seems impossible when you’re concerned. I know you can do this. Just. . . I’m still going to worry about you and feel like this could go terribly. And Tyrion, you look completely calm.”
“I believe in her too.” Tyrion smiles up at you, his long, curly hair framing his large forehead.
A knock from the outside was your signal to begin your descent to the circular plateau that led out to the plaza market of Volantis.
“The priests are ready for you, nuha kosh.” Melisandre instructed you, her hands folded in front of her and head held high.
Show time.
The booming voice of High Priest Benerro penetrated the door, a stream of words in Valyrian that were deaf on your ears as you tried to keep your composure. Heavily concentrated on your breathing, you stare as the doors slowly open; the other had been pulled open by Iyan. Bright, blinding sunlight makes your eyes squint up. You held the egg closer to your side, mentally trying to reach out to the warmth inside. That soothing closeness that reassured you.
Hanging tapestries that blew in the partial breeze portrayed the Red Temple’s burning heart against scarlet fabric. In the vestibule, the bridge was blocked off by Fiery Hands that held their weapons at the ready. People nearly spilled over them but you knew it would take a lot more to get past your guards. They clamoured on tip toes to try and be the one to catch the first glimpse of Azor Ahai.
The heat from the pyre in the center could be felt from miles away. There was no way you could get past the loud pounding of your heart in your ears to listen to the High Priest’s introduction. At a slow pace, you step forward until the sunlight fully reveals you for all to see. Vibrations from their cries of jubilation shook you to your core and you nearly lost the will to move forward had Rhiannon not given you an encouraging nudge.
Go on (y/n). You can do this. Even if every inch of me is trembling. . .
Summoning strength from your tightly clutched dragon egg you stiffly continue your walk until you are right next to Benerro. He had his arms out, welcoming the world to you.
“Chin up, (y/n).” Joanna smiled patiently, her index finger coaxing your chin up so that your eyes met hers. “There we go. That’s much better. Let everyone see your face.”
Remembering her words, you hesitantly raise your gaze up, your crown pulling you up. His tattooed face breaks out in a smile despite his mouth appearing to actually lack lips, the sun beating down on his bald head. Under the light of day, his pale face almost looked skeletal. You always thought he was a little ominous looking, but he had always been good to you so brushed off his horrendous appearance.
“Se dārilaros bona iksin kivio. Ōñosmaghare's āeksio se Rullor's kosh. Kessa mazilībagon se path va perzys se udrāzma iā azantyr naejot pryjagon se azantyr hen tolie. Rytsas se kosh qilōni kessa iōragon against sȳndror ,(y/n) Targārien. Azōr Ahaī sigligon! (The princess that was promised. Lightbringer's master and R'hllor's champion. She will set the path on fire and command an army to destroy the forces of the Others. Welcome the champion who will stand against darkness ,(y/n) Targaryen. Azor Ahai reborn!)” His thin and feeble stature betrayed his loud booming voice that reached even those who were looking out their balconies and windows. The city streets were completely covered in civilians. Not even when you married Rhaegar at the sept had there been so many people. They moved like a wave vibrating with energy enough to overwhelm you. You stood tall though and took a deep breath.
You knew Benerro wanted you to say a speech. Actions were louder than words though and you passed by him, down the small flight of stairs, Rhiannon falling beside you easily without a word. The red priests that were gathered along the sides murmured nervously, unsure of what you were about to do.
Closer to the fire until even the crowd started to voice their worry. From your periphery you noticed an older priest pull at the arm of a Fiery Hand who merely shook their head, having been given strict instructions from Weles not to interfere.
Face to face with the inferno, tongues of flames whipped out at you. While the heat was indeed intense, it wasn’t so bad as to deter you. No, a comfort of sorts beckoned you closer.
Before you stepped a foot any further, you shed yourself of your gaudy garlands and ancient robes that would be quickly engulfed in flames. Even the spiked crown made of precious gold. Everything that could be potentially destroyed were discarded, leaving you in a short sleeved, white dress made of soft cotton. It had taken so long to put on you yet mere seconds to take off. You unsheath Lightbringer and pierce an opening into the tall flames. The closer you were to the fire, the safer you felt. Worried shouts from the audience were suddenly becoming a mere muffle. Your hearing was overcome with the crackling of wood as the flames appeared to be parting just for you. Making a way to the heart of the pyre. Enclosing you in like a fairy nestled inside of a flower, you stare all around you.
Cozy was the first word that came to you. Flames did indeed start eating at your dress. If this did indeed work, then that meant you would be naked in front of possibly thousands of people. A self conscious thought you couldn’t help but think about as you saw your naked skin become visible.
You look down at the egg you were holding, your sword hand trembling a little as you held the blade up. Alright. . . If there’s still life in you, please, please let this be enough heat for you.
Cradling it closer against your chest, you carefully rest your chip atop of it’s soft teardrop shape. “It’s just us in here. It’s okay.” You squeezed your eyes shut and prayed. They were ancient prayers that Melisandre had told you of in a language that you had never heard before. She said they would help to stoke the flames if the heat needed to be increased. You muttered them quickly and with fervor. Within seconds you felt the temperature rise abruptly and it even made you begin to sweat. Slowly you brought your sword arm down and to your delight, Lightbringer’s own steel was swept up in it’s own flames. They didn’t tarnish your blade and you felt the same swirl of familiarity surge through you. You smiled wide and continued your chanting.
In your arms you felt a heartbeat and around you the flames began to depict figures. One looked like your regal mother, prim and proper smiling at you. The other was Thalina.
The figure of a man you didn't know manifested, tall and burly with long hair that whipped in the flickering flames. Features of his face were obscured and unclear, but you saw his cheeky smile.
The cracking of the shell as you felt the egg begin to budge.
Your orange blanket of safety began to dance erratically.
Pure joy had you crying when you saw a piece of the shell pop off.
An eager mouth poking out.
You became part of the pure warmth of the fire. Twining arms came out to hold you and you swore you could hear your mother's voice whisper in your ear.
The structure around the pyre began to crumble under the pressure of the rising flames as they seemed to reach for the sky.
Many people had begun to disperse, fearful of what would happen.
Jaime was starting to feel light headed, not realizing that he hadn’t been breathing since (y/n) stepped into the fire. His eyes were starting to burn and the smoke was almost unbearable.
The red priests and priestesses were not as concerned. They had been chanting louder and louder. Picking up tempo, Jaime noticed the flames begin to creep down. Intervention of the darkin brought the fire down immensely before his shadows completely snuffed it out, creeping back to their caverns and crevices. Jaime had never thought that the darkin would be able to use his shadow magic against the fire. It was bright after all and the light of it could have eaten his pathetic shadows.
“Have you not heard of that saying, Jaime?” Inniros, seeming to read his mind, glared at him with his only eye. Looking at him made Jaime feel sick. He was unnatural. “The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows.”
Did everyone in the continent have to speak in that annoying, mystical manner? It annoyed him to no end that everything just had to be so vague with them.
With the flames having all but disappeared, he could see his sister and finally he allowed himself to start breathing again. Good, she was okay. Still standing with Lightbringer’s flames still burning despite her clothes having been burned off leaving her in her own skin. Her once long hair had been diminished to the length of her jawline and was patchy but even so she seemed alright.
Nothing could have prepared him for the wriggling creature in (y/n)’s ash covered arms. The creature that mewled pathetically to everyone's great shock as some red priests even jumped back when they heard the abnormal sound.
He knew this had been Alizah’s plan. They had informed everyone before making the descent to the ceremony what was to be expected leaving no time for Jaime to interject. He had to go along with whatever she told him.
Still. . . Jaime could only stare and smile like a maniac.
Of course she did it.
What was left of the crowd were starting to lean in, finding it hard to believe their own vision. Then there was a cheer from the congregation of Red Temple priests. Cheers grew to a deafening roar. Those who had run away at the sight of the towering inferno soon came back hesitantly at the cries of disbelief that were emerging.
The small dragon in (y/n)’s arms stretched its wings, the scales sparkling in different flecks of green, blue, yellow, and pink. Its small shriek could still be heard over the clamour.
Taglist:
@boywivlove
@esposadomd
@domoron
@yentroucnagol
@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan
@bregarc
#reader insert#reader insert fanfiction#game of thrones fanfiction#game of thrones fanfic#asoiaf fanfiction#game of thrones#asoiaf fanfic#asoiaf fandom#a song of ice and fire fanfiction#a song of ice and fire fanfic#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones reader insert#asoiaf reader insert#asoiaf fic#a song of ice and fire x you#a song of ice and fire x reader
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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?
#anti clace#tsc#the shadowhunter chronicles#book predictions#admin#shadowhunters#malec#clace#kierarktina#sizzy#books#nephilim#book death#fictional characters#unpopular opinion#hot take#I promise you I don't like Clary but I love everyone else
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Hi there! 🌸
It's time for a pinned post! I'm Paper Boat (she/her, late 20s) and you may call me however you want 😌 This blog is the recipient of all my current hyperfixations. I'm trying to get back to writing regularly, and I've listed my current fics and OCs below. Feel free to interact! 🤍
At the moment I have a massive BG3 obsession (still going strong) with a big case of the Rolan brainrot 🧡 I absolutely adore the rest of the main characters and ship them with Tav/Durge & together too. I'm also an occasional Zevlor/Raphael/Gortash enjoyer hihi
On another note, my top three otps of all time are Brienne and Jaime (GoT), Rose x the Doctor (Doctor Who) & Zutara (A:TLA), I'll always be *thrilled* to discuss them too!
You can find me here on AO3: paper_boat
— Baldur's Gate 3
My fics:
• I Burned My Fingers On This Forbidden Fire, Rolan x Tav (series, ongoing)
— Part 1: Wild Winds Are Death To The Candle (2/2)
— Part 2: Through Shadows To The Edge of Night (3/3)
— Part 3: TBA
— Part 4: TBA
My Tavs:
• Ariel Mithcallor | high elf, ranger | romancing astarion
[☆] presentation & moodboard
[☆] [☆] pictures
— Hogwarts Legacy
My fic:
take my hand, wreck my plans, Seb x MC x Ominis (on hiatus)
My MCs:
Effie Williams | ravenclaw, paired with Seb and Ominis
(c) divider by saradika
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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.
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#choices#playchoices#pixelberry#choices: stories you play#choices: wishful thinking#wishful thinking#wt#wt jaime#jaime lewis#jaime x mc#mc x jaime
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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?
#our life beginnings & always#our life#gb patch#cove holden#baxter ward#jaime last#cove x mc#baxter x mc#princess plays games
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Honestly, wishful thinking isn't perfect but it's fine. It's cute and kinda funny and I love Jaime and Anna (can't wait to see more from her). Also, with nightbound, bloodbound, open heart, the elementalists and acor back on wednesday it's good to have a lighter monday book without high expectations.
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Okay Jaime, when are we getting married
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November First (Ethan x MC)
Book: Open Heart, beyond
Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende)
Word count: 700
Rating/ Warning: Teen/ Slight Language
Premise: She’s homesick on her birthday and he makes her feel better.
A/N: Here’s the short fic I wanted to write for Lilac’s (and my) birthday!
The incessant late night rain drumming against her window was a melody, serenading her as she peered through the foggy glass. Clad in warm pajamas, basking in the peaceful silence of the apartment, the small moment was the perfect birthday gift. The city of Boston glimmered through the droplets and for a moment, it could have been any city in the world, even home.
Lilac’s chest yearned for it. She missed the warmth of her childhood home, bursting with the laughter of her family. Though Boston was her home now, she missed celebrating her birthday with a lumpy cake, even if someone (most likely her brother) upheld the family tradition of a mordida and smashed her face against it.
Strong arms wrapped around her then, warm lips finding their home on the curve of her neck.
“You cheated,” he hummed against her skin, sending a pleasant chill through her body.
“I had to open my eyes,” she explained with a laugh. “The city looks so beautiful when it rains.”
Ethan's lips lavished the column of her neck with slow, lazy kisses.
“You're right,” he said, reaching her jaw. “It is a breath-taking view.”
His strong hands squeezed her hips before turning her around to face him. A crooked smile greeted her, making his handsome face look years younger. Lilac felt her breath catch.
“I mean you, by the way,” he informed her matter-of-factly. “You're the breathtaking view.”
Lilac rolled her eyes before raising herself to kiss him.
“You're such a sap.”
He didn't deny it.
“Happy Birthday,” he whispered in her ear, sending her stomach into a nosedive. “Are you ready for your surprise?”
“If it's sex, there's very little that surprises me.”
Ethan raised his brows.
“It's not sex, Allende. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Ha! You're the more dirty-minded out of the two, babe.”
Ethan ignored this.
“I'm offended you think me predictable in bed.”
Lilac laughed. “Then you'll have to prove me wrong, old man.”
Without further ceremony, and much to her surprise, he easily scooped her into his arms. Lilac laughed as he carried her to the dining room without faltering. In her euphoric little bubble, she didn't notice the small display on the table.
“What's all this?”
Clay platters in vivid patterns of blue decorated the table, each housing a delicious meal. Lilac recognized each as the food her mother and her abuelita used to make for her. The aroma sent her back to various birthdays, each happier than the previous one. At the center of it all sat an ivory cake, dusted gracefully with powdered cinnamon.
“Your mother sent me the recipes of your favorite dishes,” Ethan explained. “I was on the phone with her all morning trying to get them right. The cake is tres leches. Your favorite.”
She was speechless. Even if she did know what to say, the lump in her throat made it difficult to speak. Ethan shifted slightly on his feet and it occurred to her that he was anxious for her response.
“They're not the same as what your mother herself makes, but I hope I did them justice.”
The words were barely out of his mouth before Lilac flung herself into his arms and kissed him. Whenever words failed, they poured everything they had into a kiss. It had become somewhat of a habit for them, ever since that first kiss in Miami.
This time, their lips moved so devotedly against one another that she was dizzy by the time they broke apart.
“I love you,” she told him breathlessly.
Her heart's longing for home eased in the depth of his blue eyes. The smile he gave her reassured her that she was home. And while she would always miss the place she had come from, she belonged in his embrace.
“I love you, Lilac,” he replied.
After another short kiss, he pulled back and grimaced.
“What?”
“Jaime had a peculiar request.”
“Which was?”
“That I pushed your face in the cake.”
“Smart man for ignoring it.”
“Who said I ignored it?”
There was a long, tense silence in which they locked eyes.
Then, all hell broke loose with Lilac sprinting one direction and Ethan chasing her with ease. She shrieked as she dove behind the couch, narrowly missing his grasp. Their laughter drowned out the sounds of the storm, their happiness a song.
Note: “Mordida” is when your Mexican family is chanting for you to “bite” your bday cake after you blow out the candles. For some unknown reason, you are a clown and agree, thinking you’re just going to take a tiny little bite and be done. But then, someone pushes your head down like you kicked their dog, stole their car, and owe them $1,000. Your whole face sinks into the cake (if you’re lucky). Legend has it that some people still have frosting up their nose even after years.
Thank you so much for reading!
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From the Ashes Pt. 20
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, character death, blood
Words: 5147
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 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
Book Two of Dārilaros hen ōrbar se perzys (Heir of Ash and Fire)
You sob out loudly to the swirling dark shadows around you “P-Please let me go! I can’t breathe!”
Everything was closing in on you, mercilessly stabbing your chest and squeezing your heart until you felt like you were about to pass out. Not even the flickering lights of the candles could help banish the dark. You tried to think of what Melisandre had told you, but any comforting words were escaping you.
One lone piercing blue eye watched as you suffocated. Turned out it was his shadowy hand that had a tight vice on your heart. Claws digging into the large muscle that kept you alive. The darkin that had tried to kill you in Volon Therys. Why was he so intent on killing you? You couldn’t even ask why as the very breath from you ceased to flow. Whispers and chants were soft to your ear as you struggle to stay conscious. You didn’t want to die like this. Not when your life was finally going right for once. Not when you had finally earned a proud look from your brother, from everyone.
The lone eye swirls and morphs into a large golden shape until it finally takes the form of Cersei’s face. “You are nothing. You will always be the pathetic little mouse of Casterly Rock.” She gripped your heart until all the shadows disappeared and you were left in total darkness.
“Do not fear the dark, my love.”
There’s light from sweet Lady Joanna’s hands as she lifts your face up.
“(y/n)! Wake up!”
Out of reflex you immediately strike out at whoever was shaking you awake. Unfortunately your victim happened to be Jaime. Gagging slightly from the punch you had delivered to his throat, Jaime holds onto his neck. Your room was still filled with the soft nighttime light.
“J-Jaime! Oh gods, are you okay? I’m so sorry!” You crawl over to him, trying to coax his hand away to examine the damage.
Shaking his head, Jaime clears his throat. “F-Fine. I’m fine. Nice reaction time, (y/n).” Despite the praise, his voice was raspy. It made you feel even worse.
Lighting a candle that was next to your bed, you could tell that Jaime had been roused from sleep since his long blonde hair was free and curled around his face. Beautiful hair that reminded you of the vision of Cersei you had just had.
“What are you doing out of bed so late in the night?”
Pressing his back against your massive amounts of pillows and cushions, Jaime rubs at his throat. “Actually it’s early morning. I normally wake up around this time to warm up on the training ground.” Indeed there’s a hair tie around his wrist so that he could pull back his hair. “I heard your cry when I was passing by. Normally there are guards on patrol, especially around your chambers. I was worried.”
You smile in relief. “I’m fine. It was just a nightmare.”
“Must have been a terrible one. You’re breathing a little heavy.” He points out. His shoulder bumps against you as he gets comfortable in your bed. Apparently he was going to keep you company.
Incredibly grateful for your brother, you nod. “Yeah. . . my dreams are always so real and intense. Normally they aren’t that scary though. The darkin was in my dream. Do you. . . Do you think that darkin can access dreams too?”
In a tone of distaste, Jaime asks “Did your Red Witch say anything about it?”
You knew he didn’t like Melisandre one bit. Which was odd considering how beautiful she was. Even more so than Cersei was. “She didn’t mention it. But the shadows in my dreams seemed so alive. The way they moved. . . It was exactly like when I fought him. I don’t understand. Melisandre said that darkin are supposed to be servants of Azor Ahai. Why does this one want to kill me?”
Pursing his lips, Jaime shrugs. “Who knows. In the stories mother told us, darkin were always portrayed as monsters and demons.”
“That’s because the people of Westeros don’t understand what goes on in the culture of Essos. We think them savage and backwards. Having traveled through the land, we know better now. I know better. Melisandre has no explanation as to why he’s after me.” Curling your arms around your legs, you place your chin on your knees. “I wish I knew. Nuahlin and Weles are nervous about letting me go into the city today. They want me to be escorted by fifteen Fiery Hands. Bennero doesn’t want my entourage to be that big. Says it would draw a crowd to me before my official ceremony.”
“Who cares about your official ceremony. Your safety is more important.” That had been Jaime’s argument during yesterday’s council. A darkin couldn’t possibly take on more than one person at a time. There was safety in numbers. However, Bennero thought differently and wanted you to disguise yourself as a red priestess. He wanted Melisandre and Alizah to attend you, with only two Fiery Hands.To Jaime, that wasn’t enough. The Fiery Hands that Bennero wanted to go with you was of course Weles and the big laughing Tyroshi Iyan. Of course Jaime wasn’t going to let that happen. If you were going out into a potentially dangerous situation, he wanted to be there. But apparently people knew of Azor Ahai’s reborn brother with bright blonde hair. Of course they had seen him with you when you first arrived in Volantis. It would be a tip off if your brother were to tag along.
He was worried. If something were to happen to you and he wasn’t there. . . the thought plagued him. “If that guy is as dangerous as everyone makes him out to be, I want to be by your side. I’m your sworn sword. Even if you can protect yourself now, I want to stay with you. I promised.”
Uncontainable joy envelopes you as you abruptly throw your arms around Jaime, perhaps for the first time. Jaime was so warm, that warmth fought off whatever lingering fear you had. “I’ll talk to Bennero and Weles. We’ll figure something out so that you can go too. You’re right. My sworn sword needs to be by my side at all times.”
Hesitantly, Jaime returns your hug. “I won’t let that shadow asshole hurt you.”
Trying to convince the High Priest to let Jaime go with you was easier said than done. Even Melisandre seemed to be against it, claiming that Jaime wouldn’t be strong enough against the darkin. That his faith was still weak. For once you put your foot down. If they didn’t agree then more than likely Jaime would sneak out of the Red Temple in order to be with you. He would always find a way.
Reluctantly they agreed that a slightly larger guard squad would be sent out ahead of you while Weles and Jaime stayed with your group. After all, you would be getting your very own sword so that you could better defend yourself. You wouldn’t have to rely entirely on Jaime and the Fiery Hand. Unfortunately this incident made Jaime resent Melisandre even more. He didn’t like being called weak by anyone, especially by the woman he called the Red Witch.
“I wish I could go with you too.” Rhiannon sighed as she helped you into a red gown. Hanging off of her arm was a red shawl that would cover your hair. The dress looked incredibly similar to the one that Rhiannon wore, fairly simple with nothing flashy. The red hue of the fabric was nearly faded, almost to a brown color.
Pulling your hand through the sleeve, you had to be careful as the wound on your palm still hurt and was healing slowly. “I wish you could go too. It’s going to be such an awkward walk to the blacksmith’s. As if Jaime didn’t need another reason not to like Melisandre.”
At that Rhiannon purses her lips and looks away, her fingers petting the shawl. “I don’t blame him. People from Asshai are a strange kind. They have powers that no human should have.”
Asshai was known as the Shadowlands, anything that came from there was cursed. It’s said that even the fish in the waters surrounding Asshai contained deformed fish that only shadowbinders dared to eat. Even according to Melisandre, nothing grows in her land. Even children are not seen in the Shadowlands. She had been helping you hone your skill in fire reading though and was always willing to share her wisdom on the darkin. A people that were now nearly extinct.
“She brought us Alizah though, so I can’t exactly dislike her.” admits Rhiannon quietly. Securing the shawl around your head, she tucks away your blonde bangs that were peeking out. “Her powers are nonetheless terrifying.”
“We should be thankful that she is on our side then.” You hold Rhiannon’s hands to ease her worries.
She squeezes them in reply. “Please be careful, my lady. I will pray for your safe return.”
“I’ll be fine. Jaime will be with me.” You had such faith in your older brother that you knew as long as Jaime was present, nothing bad could ever happen to you. He wouldn’t let that happen. After all, he was one of the best knights in Westeros. Gaining the title of knight at such a young age was an accomplishment that few could brag about it. And you had seen him further grow under the training of Weles. If you ever did return to Westeros, Jaime would be unstoppable.
Front doors of the temple slowly peel open to reveal a bright day ahead of you. At last you would get to see the city of Volantis first hand.
You were giddy, nearly bouncing on the balls of your feet at the excitement of it all. Behind you, Weles didn’t match your joy as his face was set in a stern expression. He was on duty after all to protect you, but Jaizme couldn’t resist the smile that crept up on his face as he watched you. Even Melisandre had to cover her grin with her hand. As scary as many found her, she had taken on a somewhat motherly role to you. Not entirely motherly, but Melisandre wanted to prepare you for the world that you were about to step into.
“Easy, Your Grace.” Melisandre chuckles. “It looks like you’re going to give poor Weles a heart attack.”
Ever smiling Alizah giggles while casting her dark eyes over at the captain of the Fiery Hand who merely huffed in response. Both of his hands were hovering above his weapons. “This is no laughing matter. There is an assassin still out there trying to kill her.”
Rolling her red eyes, Melisandre counters “Yes, we are all well aware. But what darkin can defeat our savior? She knows now how to fight. And she has her faithful brother.” There’s a certain glimmer in her gaze when she references your brother. You notice Jaime slightly bristle.
“Weles is right. We still need to keep our eyes open and our guard up.” Jaime insists, backing up his brother in arms.
“Yes, that’s all good, but do let (y/n) have her fun. She’s been cooped up in the temple for months. This is her first time outside in the real world.” Alizah takes your arm. “Shall I give you a tour?”
Your wide smile hurt so much but you didn’t care. “Yes please!”
Crossing the stone bridge that led up to the temple’s front steps, you looked over to see the sparkling water below. A few small boats were filtering through. The long bridge that you crossed was said to be strong enough to hold dozens of elephants if the need be. Ahead the cobble roads were wide; Alizah had told you that centuries ago when the city was built they made the roads large so war chariots could ride side by side.
The city was so rich in history that you felt your neck grow sore as you swiveled your head all around to truly absorb your surroundings. Citizens of Volantis didn’t give you a second glance as you were dressed in the red priestess garb which allowed you to fully enjoy your tour. Although you couldn’t help but notice many people that had tattoos on their face. Not like the ones the Fiery Hands had. They were in different shapes: tear drops, flies, large ones that resembled wheels. Alizah was hesitant to tell you what each tattoo meant, but Melisandre stepped in and told you the cold truth. Slaves were a normal thing in Essos. You knew that. Many in the temple were raised from a young age, initially bought as slaves from their mothers. Sirvart had once been a slave. Rhiannon and Thalina had entered the temple and started off as slaves before earning their title as red priestess. It helped that Thalina had the special talent for reading flames. The sight of them though still made you uncomfortable. There was no shortage of slaves in Volantis though. You saw that walking through the busy streets and listening to Valyrian being shouted back and forth.
Jaime and Weles kept close to you, giving anyone who strayed too close an evil glare; warning them that coming any closer could mean death.
After traveling across the continent, the walk to the blacksmith’s was a breeze. Heat radiated from the building as it was fairly open. Loud clangs met your ears as hammers slammed against steel. A hand few of Fiery Hands were already stationed outside, awaiting your arrival. Sighting you, they stood at attention. Iyan had been put in charge of the vanguard.
Weles siddles up to his Tyroshi comrade. “Anything that looks out of sorts?”
For once he didn’t have his normal smile. All business, Iyan shakes his head. “No. Not yet at least.”
Nodding, Weles turns to Melisandre and Alizah. “You two may escort her inside. Nuha Kosh, he only speaks Valyrian. Will you be able to keep up with him?”
Vidarr shot you a confident smile, the two of you had been studying after each training day along with Rhiannon. You were sure with your Valyrian vocabulary. “Yes, I’ll be fine.”
“Well, it is time for you to receive your Lightbringer.”
Before even stepping inside, the heat hit you. Beads of sweat sprung up on your temple and pooled above your upper lip. Inside were two men, one was hammering away; sparks flying in every way. The other was an old man, his leather apron matched the leathery lines on his face. Thick eyebrows overshadowed his eyes, nearly hiding them. Thinning white hair was tied back into a soft bun.
At the sight of the red priestesses, the old man yells at his son in Valyrian to stop. His son spins around and bows. Slowly the old man gets off of his stool to properly greet you. You were surprised that this man was still capable of making fine swords. Although he had muscles to his arms, his back was slightly stooped over. Hands strong yet nobby and dry from the work that he does.
In Valyrian, he begins to speak. “What an honor it is to be witness to the champion of R’hllor. For centuries, my family has been in the business of working with Valyrian steel. We are one of the only families left to still forge them.”
“The honor is all mine.” You place your right hand on top of your heart. A gesture Rhiannon had taught you. “I have been told that it was your ancestors who forged Blackfyre, one of the finest blades in all of history.”
That seemed to please him that you were already aware of his family’s renowned fame. Copying your gesture, he boys. “Call me Gez-par. Gez-par Uodiyn. My son, Dal-ber.”
Dal-ber keeps his head bowed until his father motions him to bring forth a long silk wrapped item. He carries it as if it was the most fragile thing in the world. Gez-par’s weathered hand runs over the silk in a loving manner. “It has been ages since the last time I made a sword so worthy of Valyrian steel.”
His son gets down on one knee and presents it to you, balanced on his palms. “Kostagon nyke rudhy naejot ao, Ōñosmaghare (I present to you, Lightbringer).”
Lightbringer.
Even though there was no sight of any threat, the Fiery Hands still stood backs straight and eyes forward. Especially Jaime who couldn’t help but train his ear toward the blacksmith’s residence. The sound of hammering had stopped and it was quiet. His muscles twitched, wanting to be inside of there but he knew he was lucky enough to even be standing guard outside.
That damn Red Witch had been so insistent that Jaime wasn’t strong enough. That he was lacking faith to be able to properly protect his sister from the darkin. He didn’t need faith to be a good warrior, all he needed was a blade. Jaime even resented Weles a little bit for agreeing with Melisandre. It had been a stab at him. For so long, Jaime had trained with Weles. Thought of him as a comrade. And to have Weles turn on him. . .Jaime had never anticipated that kind of betrayal from him. Why had the captain not backed up Jaime? He knew how good Jaime was in a fight. Was it because Jaime did not have flames of R’hllor tattooed onto his face? Sirvart didn’t have the flames upon her cheeks, yet she was still regarded as a strong soldier.
“If you scowl like that too often, your face will get stuck like that.” Feichin lightheartedly chuckles. When Jaime’s face didn’t even twitch, Feichin grimaced. Dark brown eyes flick over to Weles who was in the center of their line and self consciously scratches at the orange ink on his face. Jaime was the only one in the line up without them.
Bitterly, Jaime whispers “What makes Weles think I’m not worthy enough to protect my own sister. Just because I don’t have those flames on my face.”
“Well, it doesn’t necessarily have to be on your face.” He reasons. “Sirvart’s tattoo is on the back of her neck to cover up her old slave brand.”
“They’re just tattoos.” Scoffing, Jaime crosses his arms in front of his chest. His biceps had grown since his days in King’s Landing. He had definitely gotten stronger thanks to training with the likes of the giant Yophiel and barrel chested Dritan.
Feichin smiles gently. “That’s not so my friend. Perhaps that’s why Weles thinks less of you because you criticize something you don’t know about. It’s an honor to be inked with the flames of R’hllor. There’s only a hand few of priests at the temple that are certified to do them. The formula of the ink is a secret but it does have magical properties. It wasn’t just Sirvart’s weapon that was able to fend off the darkin. It was the aura of her tattoo. I know it sounds absurd to a Westerosi like you who believes in different gods. But it’s reality for us.”
Jaime was quiet for a moment before speaking in a lower tone. “I don’t believe in any gods. I never have. I believe in (y/n) though. I have seen her survive through many things that would have killed a regular person.”
There was admiration in his voice that Feichin couldn’t deny and not for the first time. Whenever Jaime spoke of his sister or watched her train, there was a sense of awe in him. He was mesmerized by her entire being. At first Feichin had played it off as a doting older brother, but there was something off.
“There is no denying the mysticism of (y/n). But even she serves the Lord of Light who is a higher being.” As if struck by an arrow, Feichin’s smile completely shatters and his dark eyes grow wide; body going completely rigid.
“Are you-”
There was no time to ask questions as Weles and the rest of the men went still as well with Weles hissing out orders to keep your weapon at the ready. Weles doesn’t look at Jaime’s quizzical face. “The darkin approaches.”
How. . .
Oddly as if Feichin were reading Jaime’s mind, he points to the golden flames on his cheeks.
Magical properties. Jaime would have to eat his words and apologize to Feichin later. This should have been the least alarming thing that Jaime had learned while in Essos. The world continued to educate him.
Seconds ticked, matching the rhythm of Jaime’s heart. His eyes strained to see anyone. The streets were mainly empty with a few people going on with their daily lives. Then slowly, peeling away from a corner’s shadow, came a tall figure with red dreadlocks and a mask covering the bottom half of his face. What really made Jaime’s gut curdle were the shadows that slithered behind him. Alive like wreathing snakes.
This was the monster that Joanna would tell them stories about, a monster that was striding right to them.
Jaime wasn’t afraid though. In fact, fear was nowhere seen in his body. He was enraged. This was the monster that had been hired by his Cersei, the one that attacked (y/n). He had vowed that regardless of what threatened her, that he would slay all of (y/n)’s enemies. Those who meant to do her harm. Jaime lurched forward to blindly attack before
Feichin pulls him back. “Stay in line!”
No. He wanted to put an end to this darkin.
Stepping forward, Weles makes an arch with his sword as he presents it. “Stop right there darkin. What business do you have here?”
Falling on deaf ears, the darkin continues his path over to them. Weles gave them the command to unsheath their swords. The sight of them makes the darkin stop and flinch. One single light blue eye flicks over to Jaime.
“Jaime of House Lannister?”
Jaime licked his lips in agitation. “Answer my commander. What business do you have here?”
Pausing for a moment, the darkin slowly returns to his walk. “I have been charged with bringing you back to Westeros. Back to Casterly Rock.”
“Sorry to have to make you come all the way out here, but I’m not going back anytime soon.” He narrows his eyes. “What else were you hired to do? Surely I can’t be that important.”
“My employer would disagree.”
A cold hand reaching into him, Jaime felt himself jerk slightly before he realized that his entire body couldn’t move. His muscles wanted to, but despite their efforts all that paid off were a few twitches.
Everything broke loose; Weles’ shouts, commands being given and trained men immediately going into position. And there was nothing Jaime could do except watch as his comrades attacked while Iyan orders Vidarr and Yophiel to go into the blacksmith’s forge to alert the others. Fiery Hands crept slowly around the darkin who didn’t seem to mind them. That is until Weles struck at him, landing on his feet mere inches from the darkin as he slashed away like a berserker. The darkin fluidly evaded each one, his feet seemingly floating on air as he so effortlessly moved around Weles. Three men behind him made their move but were quickly stuck to their own shadow. Weles and the darkin continued to be entangled in this absurd dance. As good as the darkin was, Weles was just as good. His sword hissed as it made contact with the darkin’s own blade. It seemed to have appeared in his hand in a blink of an eye.
Cursing relentlessly, Jaime willed with all of his strength to move his body. He wanted to scream. Never before had he felt so helpless. The feeling of being binded to someone else’s will, it made him go crazy.
Everything was happening so fast. Fiery Hands were falling down, whether dead or stunned, Jaime didn’t know. From watching though it became clear that the darkin could only keep control of so many shadows. He’d be forced to release some in order to grab hold of others that dared to come too close. Maybe that was due to the magical properties of their tattoos, whatever it was kept everyone relatively safe. Even grabbing hold of someone’s shadow didn’t last too long.
“Still think these are just silly tattoos?” Feichin managed to chuckle as he grabbed Jaime’s arm. Once his fingers come into contact, the shadow beneath his feet trembles before retreating to it’s master who subsequently glares over in their direction. “You okay?”
Jaime gasps, finally able to move his body. “Y-yes.” He meets the darkin’s glare with equal fire. “He is going to regret doing that.”
“Whoa whoa. Slow down. We need to get (y/n) out of here safely.”
“We need to kill that thing. Otherwise (y/n) will never be safe. He’s obviously not going to kill me. He was given orders to return me alive most likely. At least I hope.” Brandishing his blade, Jaime charges. Behind him he could still hear Feichin calling him an idiot.
The darkin was still in the midst of his battle with the other Fiery Hands, like a horse swatting flies with it’s tail. He handled them so effortlessly. Then again, when you can skip and hop through shadows it makes evading an attack simple. If he was holding people with his shadow though and disappeared through a shadow, it would ultimately release whoever he had held captive. He couldn’t keep his enemies still while jumping through the dark.
Mid fight with Weles, the darkin suddenly sinks through the ground. Swallowed up by an unforeseen force before popping up in front of Jaime.
Jaime skitters and stops just in time to prevent himself from crashing into the assassin. From behind him, Feichin charges with his blades making the darkin bring up his own weapon to block it. Taking the opportunity, Jaime swiped his sword at the darkin’s feet to try and throw him off balance. His attack kissed air as the darkin once again disappeared.
Gritting his teeth, Jaime stumbles to stand up. The Fiery Hand kept their guard up, prepared for when the darkin decided to arise. Jaime kept glancing at the blacksmith’s forge with worry.
Feichin jerks, choking on air until Jaime realized that blood was coming from his mouth; the tip of a blade peeking out from his gut. Fingers hover around where the sword pierced him, slightly confused. Fiery Hands howl at their fallen comrade.
The darkin pushes Feichin off of his sword and onto the ground. Without protest, Feichin’s body collapses against the ground; his fingers still grope around for his sword so that even as he lay dying, he could continue to fight. It was over for him though.
Even the blood on the darkin’s black sword was still glistening brightly. Now that most of the Fiery Hand were behind him, the darkin was more capable of keeping them pinned to the ground. The soldiers that were still protecting the forge took the initiative and prepared for attack.
“Jaime Lannister.” His voice was dull, lacking any vibrancy. Again, Jaime felt that cold feeling enter him. “It’s time for you to return to Westeros.”
Before he could even touch him, the darkin hisses and whips around. On his back was a deep cut that ran across the back of his torso.
The culprit stood, cheeks flaming with anger and eyes that were normally a muddied green were now pits of hellfire. The Red Witch and Alizah were right behind her as Vidarr and Yophiel look on with concern.
“Stay away from my brother.” (y/n) growls.
“Oh gods, Jaime!” you move for the exit but Yophiel and Vidarr immediately block your way. Yophiel towered over everyone in there, even Gez-par’s son Dal-ber was no height match for him.
“We can’t let you out. We need you to stay here until he’s been dealt with.” Vidarr replies.
However neither one of your trio didn’t agree with this plan. Melisandre places a hand on your shoulder and a pleasant smile on her face. “Ilva Kosh wants to be out there with the rest of you. You forget your place.”
Even Alizah chimes in “Are you saying you do not believe in her?”
Yophiel paled. Women were his one weakness. He was definitely raised as a mama’s boy, forced to be a gentleman even under extraneous circumstances. “Of course not. . . But-”
“Weles gave the order.” Vidarr is slowly crumbling under who to follow, Weles’ orders or your insistence. “You have done well in your training, but you’re still ways from becoming a master of the blade and dance.”
“Act like a champion.” Alizah’s whisper reaches you. “Give them the order and they will obey.”
“They have to.” Melisandre nods.
Your fingers run along Lightbringer’s hilt. It conformed perfectly into your hand and further extended your arm. Freshly styled Valyrian steel against your hip gave you warmth. “I command both of you to stand down. I’m joining my brother and my men out there. The darkin is after me. I won’t go down so easy this time.”
Biting his lip, Yophiel turns to Vidarr but even he could offer no help. “Ziry's īlva kosh. Weles iksis sepār īlva jentys (She's our champion. Weles is just our captain).”
Frowning, Yophiel slowly gets out of your way. “If Weles asks me what happened, I’m blaming you.”
With a chuckle, Vidarr agrees. “Fair enough.”
“R’hllor is with you. Remember that.” Melisandre ushers you outside.
You thank Gez-par and his son for all they had done for you. Gez-par said a few words in Valyrian that you did not know. They were probably ancient Valyrian words. Right as you step out, the sight of a Fiery Hand falling to the ground made you pause. You heard Vidarr and Yophiel curse, moving around Melisandre and Alizah to aid their comrades. Seeing that Vidarr and Yophiel were still with you, the others that had been guarding the front spring into action against the darkin. They were just as quickly disposed of. All you saw was the back of the darkin. You would know those red dreadlocks anywhere.
Something screamed inside of you. Pure anger. Anger and rage as the darkin immobilizes your brother. He was getting too close to him for comfort. Not even thinking, you hurl yourself, sword swinging at his back. His shoulders shudder as a hiss escapes him. You pivot back and await for him to turn around. That single blue eye that haunted your sleeping hours. Fingers grip even tighter around the hilt of Lightbringer. The steel sung at the fresh blood it had been offered.
“Stay away from my brother.”
Taglist:
@boywivlove
@esposadomd
@domoron
@yentroucnagol
@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan
#reader insert#reader insert fanfiction#from the ashes#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones reader insert#game of thrones fanfic#game of thrones fanfiction#game of thrones#asoiaf fanfiction#asoiaf reader insert#asoiaf fic#asoiaf fanfic#asoiaf fandom#a song of ice and fire x you#a song of ice and fire x reader#a song of ice and fire fanfic#a song of ice and fire fanfiction#a song of ice and fire
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A New Future (Jaime x MC)
This fic is inspired by Day 5 of the Choices August Challenge hosted by @cora-nova !
After too long, I finally wrote a Jaime fic. I missed his relationship with Charlotte. =)
Dedicated to @mariaoz , my beautiful friend who came into my life thanks to Jaime! And @itsbrindleybinch , my talented writing partner! <3
Tagging also @lady-kato @jlpplays1 @desiree-0816 @flyawayboo and @meepmeepmeep ! Every one of you is amazing, and thank you for your support!
Day 5 Prompt: Cosmos
Pairing: Jaime x MC (Charlotte)
Summary: Jaime takes Charlotte to a special place, where they sit and talk while making an important decision about the future.
Unedited.
--------------------------------
“Jaime, where are you taking me?”
Jaime squeezed Charlotte’s hand. She glanced at him in confusion, but he couldn’t let her know where they were going. Not yet.
“It’s a surprise.”
He led her to the car, and after a short drive they arrived at their destination. Charlotte smiled when she noticed their surroundings. They stood atop a tall cliff overlooking a beautiful lake, a beautiful mountain standing across from them. The stars twinkled in the night, almost as they did then, so long ago.
“It’s beautiful up here.”
Jaime smiled. He took her hand, his warmth sending tingles down her arm. Charlotte blushed, and for a moment she felt exactly as she did a year ago: uncertainty took the reins and her nerves went haywire. Why was she like this?
“Remember when we camped together? Just you, I, and our families?”
Charlotte laughed. “That was a nightmare. I was so nervous the whole time.”
Somehow, it was even worse now.
“Why?”
“Well, I had this crush on a guy, so camping with him wasn’t the most appealing idea.”
Jaime chuckled. “Well, I’m sure this guy was just as nervous.”
They sat at the edge of the cliff. Jaime pulled Charlotte closer, his heat the most comforting feeling Charlotte experienced. She sighed in content and lay her head on his shoulder, sighing in relief.
Jaime started playing with her long hair, just like they always did ever since they were little. “Char, I think I’ve loved you even then. On that camping trip, when we looked at the stars, I wanted to kiss you so badly. The problem was that I was sure you never felt for me that way, so I was forced to keep it inside.”
“Well, I did friendzone you only a few weeks before. Which was stupid, if you think about it.”
Jaime’s brows furrowed. “Why?”
Charlotte opened her eyes. She shook her head at the fond memory, laughing at the mistake she regretted for years to come. “I friendzoned you right before I realized I had a crush on you. That knowledge tormented me for years.”
Jaime’s eyes twinkled. “Really? How did I never notice?”
“You’re just as dense as me, apparently.”
Jaime pulled her even closer. “Apparently.”
They gazed silently at the view. It was so beautiful, the silence of the hills, the quiet of nature. Charlotte snuggled into Jaime as she listened to the chirping crickets and the still waters. It was as if, for once, the world truly was at peace.
“You see the stars?” Jaime broke the silence. His voice was but a whisper, his body as relaxed as hers.
Charlotte nodded. Jaime smiled before he cupped her face. “They can’t even rival your beautiful eyes.”
His eyes searched hers, as if looking for something there. Charlotte looked at him, searching desperately for words she couldn’t find. How did he always manage to steal all thoughts from her mind?
“Jaime… I…”
“I love you, Charlotte. I’ve loved you forever, whether as a friend or something more. You’re the highlight of every day, everything beautiful in this world. You taught me to open myself to this world, so long ago, and I can’t thank you enough. You’re everything to me.”
Charlotte gently cupped his cheek. “I love you too, Jaime. Without you, life would just be dull and colorless. I can trust you with anything, anything at all. Whether mind-reading abilities or other, more stupid secrets. You’re always the first person I’ll call.”
Jaime lowered his head. His lips gently brushed Charlotte’s, and she closed her eyes once again. He kissed her gently, sweetly, just like their very first kiss so long ago.
She sighed as Jaime gently brushed her cheek with his thumb, her body automatically coming closer.
“Char, can you please keep your eyes closed? I have a surprise.”
She nodded hesitantly. Jaime kissed her forehead once again before his warmth completely disappeared.
Charlotte frowned. “Jaime? Where are you?”
“Turn around and keep your eyes closed.” Jaime requested, his voice slightly uneven.
Hesitantly, Charlotte did. It was a bit strange, doing it with her eyes closed, but she did it anyway. Because she trusted Jaime with all her heart.
“Charlotte, on that first day of our friendship, I never knew how much you would change your life. You changed me, transformed my world. You were the first light of this new life I found myself in, and you were with me at all the other lights I lit. Never in a million years did I think I would be this lucky, but somehow I’m still here.”
He took her hand in his, comforting warmth passing through her at the touch. “I love you, Char. I’ll always love you, every second, every minute, every hour. I can’t imagine my life without you, and I dare to hope that with you it’s the same.”
Somewhere, in the midst of all her thoughts, Charlotte heard Jaime’s voice. Open your eyes.
And when she saw Jaime he took all her breath away.
“Charlotte, I’ve thought about this for so long. At first I wasn’t sure, but now… well, I guess somewhere I always knew.”
Jaime swallowed. He fingered the ring which shone in the moonlight, its beauty nothing compared to the love in his eyes.
“Charlotte, will you marry me?”
She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t say a word. Instead she put her other hand on top of his, and slowly guided the ring to her finger.
And then, somehow, she found one word. “Always.”
Jaime carefully slipped the ring onto her finger. Charlotte gazed at it, it’s silver band with intricate carvings, simple, unique and beautiful. Just like Jaime, who always reminded her how beautifuly simple life could be. How wonderful the world was when people stood by your side.
Jaime pulled Charlotte up, so they were now looking once again at the view. This was the place where they shared their first kiss, opening the door that led to a beautiful future. This was the place where Jaime, after so long, finally asked her the question she wished to hear.
“It couldn’t be more perfect.” Charlotte whispered. Her eyes met Jaime’s, and a faint blush rose to her cheeks as a smile smile rose to her face.
He shook his head. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”
She met his eyes, a mischievous and adoring twinkle in his eyes. “Why?”
“Because,” Jaime pulled her closer, “it isn’t you. You are the only perfect thing in this world, Char. Everything else pales in comparison.”
And when he kissed her, Jaime promised her everything Charlotte never needed. Because now he was hers and she was his.
Forever.
#choices#playchoices#choices stories you play#Jaime lewis#Jaime x mc#Jaime lewis x mc#mc x jaime#mc x Jaime lewis#choices fanfiction#wishful thinking#choices wishful thinking#choices wt#wt#wt jaime#wishful thinking fanfiction#choices august challenge#coranovachallenge
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“Bruised” with the scene when we were looking at the stars with Jaime💞 (WT Chapter 9..) 😊🤞🏻
Jaime is a great character and this sketch doesn’t do him justice, this’ll be the last one for today and I’ll continue tomorrow
#wishful thinking#jaime lewis#jaime x mc#mc x jaime#choices#choices wt#wt#choices fanart#playchoices fanart#myart
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Me finding out that Wishful Thinking is a stand-alone book
#pixelberry#playchoices#pb#wishful thinking#wt#anna koishi#aubrey watson#jaime lewis#ellen thompson#mc x aubrey#mc x jaime#mc x anna#mc x ellen
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