For you I was a flame

Love is a losing game

Five story fire as you came

Love is a losing game

-Amy Winehouse

Step 1: Gather the Tinder

The light of the late afternoon was shining through the stained glass window panes of the tower chamber. It shone in colourful patterns onto the most influential men of Westeros: the Small Council.

"Honour? I want her dead!" said King Robert Baratheon, slamming his metal cup onto the old oak table. "She may be a girl and she may be harmless now , but if she becomes with child and the gods grant Dorothea Targaryen a boy, there will be a Targaryen leading a Dothraki army. This is no time for honour - I have seven kingdoms to rule. I want her dead. Varys?"

"Yes, my King?" Lord Varys, who was often nicknamed The Spider, lifted his bald round head to look into the eyes of his superior.

"See to it that it's done."

"Of course, my King."

"Good. I don't want to hear another word about this until it's done."

The men discussed various other political matters, but Lord Varys was only listening with half of his attention. The other half was busy making a plan to get rid of this Targaryen woman. A rare treat!
Of course, he could just send a hedge knight or a wine poisoner or something else that was as boring as it was banal. Lord Varys was a great lover of the art of intrigue, however, and he enjoyed to organise an elaborate and complex plan that resulted in someone's untimely but beautifully construed death.
By the time that the King dismissed the Small Council, he had hatched just such an intriguing plan and he asked Lord Baelish to stay behind and discuss an important matter with him.

When he was sure they were alone, he began: "A little bird tells me that the legendary Flame has returned to King's Landing."

"Has it told you that, indeed?" Lord Baelish straightened the mockingbird pin on his lapel.

"Hm. And I assume that if it's true, and if she is as good a prostitute as legend says she is - she must be in your employment?"

Lord Baelish smiled. "Now, now. You flatter me, Lord Varys!"

"Flattery has gotten me far in life. Now tell me...is she as good as they say she is?

...is she what they say she is?"

"And what do 'they' say exactly?"

"They say that she's Dothraki born, and they say she's a Dragon Whisperer."

"It is what they say," agreed Lord Baelish, "but since there are no dragons anymore, such a theory is hard to put to the test."

"Quite. But they also say that she has the legendary Gift of Fire?"

"And they would be quite right." He looked around the room to ascertain that they were alone and continued: "She spontaneously bursts into fire when she's in the throes of passion, burning the bed and the person she's with...If that's what they say, then yes; what they say would be accurate."

"I'm in awe. That must be a sight to be seen..." He placed his hand on Lord Baelish arm. "From a safe distance, of course. Pardon the curiosity, but how is a girl that makes your clients go up in flames profitable to keep in your… establishments?"

"I trust I can speak frankly? We're both men of the world?" They shared an insincere smile and Lord Baelish took his arm out of Lord Varys' grip. "Most clients are interested in using her skills on someone else entirely. And they often return for her service. It is a rather pleasant way to get rid of someone, is it not?"

"Hm. I suppose. I wouldn't quite know."

"Of course not, my apologies. In any case, it probably eases their conscience somewhat. And there are some clients who use her for their own pleasure."

Lord Varys gasped. "No..! You don't say!"

"Oh yes! And what a way to go. It definitely beats jumping off the Old Gate with a rope around your neck. And you know, those that do use her … shall we say… services for themselves mostly leave us their entire will before they blissfully go up in smoke. So I'm sure you can gather how profitable she is for us." He looked at Lord Varys. "What do you have in mind for her? I take it you are not asking for yourself?"

Lord Varys chose to ignore this blatant sneer at his impotency. "No… No I was thinking what a considerate wedding present a handmaiden would be for a foreign princess - a handmaiden that is a native Dothraki but also speaks the Common Tongue."

"Quite!" Lord Baelish' eyes lit up. "So you mean to send Flame as a wedding present to Dorothea Targaryen?"

"If she agrees to our terms."

"And you have the means to make her agree to your...our... terms?"

"Hm." The Spider pressed the fingertips of his hands together and nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed, I think I do."

A/N: I'm not the only person to ship Rizzles and fangirl over Game of Thrones, right?
The next step when building a fire: gathering the kindle. We meet Flame and her special skills ;-)