Step 2 - Gather the Kindling
"Ah, you keep her close at hand!" Lord Varys said as they stepped into the brothel in which Lord Baelish also had his office as Master of the Coin. "She must be something special."
Lord Baelish didn't reply, but only smiled. "Jilya," he said to a scantily clad girl that walked up to them, "tell Flame that she has a client and tell her to wear old clothes. That is to say: inexpensive clothes. Off you go."
He led them both into his office that held a big oak desk, a couple of chairs and a large four poster bed. They discussed various political affairs until there was a knock on the door and upon Lord Baelish' "Enter!" a tall, olive skinned woman walked in with a brusque stride. She wore a white blouse, dark trousers and sturdy boots. Her dark hair was loosely braided.
Lord Baelish looked at her disapprovingly. "I said inexpensive clothes, not men's clothes. Wait..!" He stood up from behind his desk and walked towards the woman. "Are those the clothes of the poor fella I sent you to yesterday?"
She shrugged and looked away from them.
"Well. He no longer has any use for them, I suppose."
"Hm," said Lord Varys, sizing up the woman before them. "She's nothing special to look at. Rather old. She must be past childbearing age. No meat on her. Crude in movement…"
"If she makes an effort, she scrubs up well. But all that is beside the point, my friend," countered Lord Baelish. "Now tell me, Flame - has the news of the upcoming marriage between the Dothraki Kahl and the Targaryen princess-in-exile reached you? You must be overjoyed by the news."
Flame looked at the gentlemen for a moment and then "Ggfffttt!" spat on the floor.
"Less than charmed by the prospective, aaah..," said The Spider.
"I detest water into our blood!" Flame spoke. Her voice was throaty and deep, yet oddly melodious. She had a heavy Southern accent. Lord Varys began to understand a little better how she might entice her clients.
"Do you detest it enough to kill, dear?" The Spider looked up at her.
"I don't kill women."
"You mean you don't sleep with women?"
"I sleep with women. I don't kill women," said Flame.
"You can't get 'enflamed' from being with a woman?"
"Tcha!" Flame angrily held up her hands. "Listen, man. I. can. burn. women. I. don't. Understand?"
Lord Varys wasn't taken aback. "Aaah, a murdering prostitute with high moral standards. A rare gem indeed...well dear, my experience tells me that high moral standards have a price tag in these kinds of environments. I might have an offer for you later, that you will find hard to resist." He pressed the finger tips of both of his hands together.
"Tttchh!" scoffed Flame. "I resist!"
"The Dothraki are not known for their poetic use of language," said Lord Baelish apologetically.
"She's fiery in character. I give you that," Lord Varys smiled. "But now, let's see what you can do, dear."
"I don't perform. No audience." Flame crossed her arms and clacked her tongue at Lord Baelish.
"Don't worry; I've seen it all before," he said. "I'll leave you two to it. I have business elsewhere anyway and I trust that you will play nice?'
"Tttcchh!"
"I wasn't speaking to you, woman, keep your cool." Lord Baelish turned to Lord Varys and raised his eyebrow.
"I'm sure Flame and I will come to an arrangement," said the Spider.
"And in turn I'm sure that the Master of the Coin will compensate me liberally for losing a trusty source of income."
"Quite. Give him my warmest regards," Lord Varys replied.
"You just have and he thanks you for it!" The two men laughed - a sincere laugh this time.
"It was a pleasure doing business. Enjoy the show." And with that, Lord Baelish left the room and closed the heavy oak door behind him.
"Hm," Lord Varys said to a closed door and then turned to face Flame. "How will we arrange this, my dear? If you are as legendary as they say you are, I assume that it will be unwise to ...ehm...enflame yourself on the bed?"
"Assist me," Flame commanded rather than asked. "This rug goes." Together they rolled up the rug and cleared a space on the slate floor tiles.
Varys sat down behind Lord Baelish' big oak desk and expectantly looked at Flame, who sat down on her knees on the cold tiles in front of the desk, glancing at Lord Varys as she did so.
"I pretend that you are not here," she said.
"In my line of work, that is actually a compliment, dear. Just do what you need to do." He leaned back in the chair.
"I keep my clothes on," she stated.
"It wouldn't make the slightest difference to me if you did or not," replied the Spider.
"You come near me and I burn you," she added.
"Enough with the warnings, girl. Just get on with it."
Flame closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. Then, she lifted her hand and combed it through her hair, loosening the braids and letting her hair flow wildly over her shoulders. She touched her neck and slowly, deliberately stroked downwards - across her bare throat, down her white blouse. She sighed as her hand cupped a breast, kneading it softly.
Varys rested his elbows on the desk. It seemed to him that the skin of the woman before him, which had been a dark olive teint just a few moments ago, now had a light and life to it. Various shades of yellow and orange seemed to ripple beneath the surface and as Flame's other hand began to travel down to her belly and further down, her skin began to emit a gentle glow.
She unbuttoned her blouse partially and her hand disappeared underneath. Flame's breathing became ragged now. The hand on her abdomen slid lower and lower until Flame moaned softly and pressed the hand into her.
The glow that she emitted began to intensify, until it seemed to Lord Varys that she was actually shining - emitting a faint fiery light.
Flame's hand traveled upwards a little to the waistband of the trousers and then down again, and up again - slowly as if she were unsure or unwilling. But then her hand disappeared underneath the waistband. For a moment her breathing stopped and the light around her seemed to gather underneath her skin once more, until a violent shower of sparks burst from her skin. She moaned deeply "ai, ale...ale," in her Dothraki tongue as bursts of sparks continued to shower off her. At times thin whispery flames danced on her skin, until finally "ai.. ai….Vorsakh!" she burst into a wild untamely fire. She shuddered and pressed into her touch. Slowly her breathing returned to normal and she opened her eyes. The fire that had so suddenly erupted, now petered down to a few little flames and some wisps of smoke. Soon it was extinguished completely. Particles of ash settled around her.
"Your coat," she said hoarsely.
"Yes, yes, of course," Lord Varys hastily stood and shrugged off his coat, and handed it to the woman in front of him. Flame's clothes, including the boots she had been wearing, had burnt clean off her and she was shivering, sitting naked on the cold slate tiles amidst the ashes.
"Satisfied?" she asked. "I don't ask clients often." She smiled wryly.
"Satisfied indeed. I think you are just the kind of present I would like to give a Targaryen princess on her wedding feast."
"Your offer? " asked Flame, as she stood and wrapped Varys' coat around her.
"I suggest that you get properly dressed, my dear, so I can show you exactly the kind of offer that is hard to refuse. If you own another poor bastard's pair of boots, I advise you to wear them. We'll be going to a place that isn't fit for women's sandals."
A/N: Next up: Flame meets a blast from the past. The fuel will be gathered for the fire!