aFireFist
A Life in Westeros
Chapter 14 - Part 4
Back at the manse, Rhaella met him at the door the moment he stepped inside. She had clearly been waiting, her face pale in the low lamplight from the hallway. Her eyes dropped immediately to the blood on his sleeve, and her expression tightened with sharp worry. The soft confidence she had worn these past weeks faltered for a second, replaced by the raw fear of someone who had already lost too much.
"It's not mine," he said quickly, closing the heavy door behind him and sliding the bolt into place with a solid click. The sound echoed in the quiet hallway. "Just a scuffle on the way. Nothing I couldn't handle. We're accelerating the plans. I'll sail for Westeros within the week."
She didn't speak at first. Instead she pulled him into a tight hug, arms wrapping around him with surprising strength. Her body pressed close, warm and familiar, the faint scent of lavender soap and the manse's herbs clinging to her hair. For a long moment she just held him, face buried against his chest, breathing him in. Then she pulled back, hands moving to his arms as she looked him over again, checking for other injuries.
"Come with me," she said, voice steady now but still carrying that edge of concern. She led him to the small side room they used for cleaning wounds and minor ailments. The space was simple—a sturdy table, a basin of clean water, strips of linen, and a few jars of salves Rhaenys had helped prepare. Rhaella guided him to sit on the edge of the table, then rolled up his sleeve with careful fingers. Her hands were steady as she wiped the dried blood off his arm, the cloth cool and damp against his skin. She worked in silence for a moment, dabbing at the shallow cuts on his knuckles, her touch gentle but thorough.
"The children are asleep," she said finally, breaking the quiet. "Tell me what you need me to do while you're gone. Everything. Don't leave anything out."
Adian watched her face as she worked, noting the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the small line between her eyebrows that appeared when she was thinking hard. "Contingency plans first," he said, voice low. "If the whispers get louder or someone comes knocking, move to the secondary safe cache across the canal. Lira knows the route. Take only what you can carry quietly—food, coin, the children's warm clothes. The fast boat is stocked and ready. No heroics. Just get them out."
Rhaella nodded, dipping the cloth back into the basin and wringing it out. Water dripped softly. "And messages? How do we reach you if something happens here?"
"Trusted channels only," he replied. "The factors we've already paid. Use the coded phrases we practiced. Nothing direct. If the Iron Bank starts asking too many questions about the Neck routes, send word immediately. Barbrey can adjust from that end. The goal is to keep the children breathing and hidden until I can stabilize things in Westeros."
She set the cloth aside and reached for a small jar of salve, scooping some out with her fingers. The scent of herbs filled the small room—sharp and clean. She smoothed it gently over his knuckles and the shallow cuts, her touch lingering. "I've grown into this life more than I expected," she said quietly, a small, rueful smile touching her lips. "A year ago I would have been terrified at the thought of moving the children in the night. Now I'm thinking about which bags to pack first and which servants we can trust. You've given us that. Stability. A chance to plan instead of just hiding."
Adian caught her hand as she finished, squeezing it lightly. "You've done more than you know. The ledgers, the questions you ask, the way you watch the children… it helps. We're building something real here. Not just survival."
Rhaella looked up at him, violet eyes searching his face. "And when you get back? What then? Robert won't last forever. The realm will tear itself apart again. Where do we fit in all of that?"
"We fit by staying alive and useful," he said simply. "I consolidate the trade routes, strengthen the alliances in the North, keep the gold flowing. You keep the children safe and learning. When the time is right, we decide the next step together. No rash moves. No fire and glory. Just smart ones."
She nodded slowly, absorbing his words. Her fingers brushed his arm one last time before she stepped back. "I'll make sure Lira has the emergency packs ready by tomorrow. And I'll drill the children on what to do if we have to move—quietly, without frightening them. Rhaenys will understand. Viserys… I'll handle him."
When the cleaning was done, she kissed him hard, pushing him back against the wall with surprising urgency. Her body pressed into his, soft curves molding against him. "One more night before you start packing everything," she whispered against his lips, voice husky. "I need you again."
But they were both exhausted from the day—the scuffle, the meetings, the constant planning. Instead they simply held each other, bodies pressed close in the narrow bed, talking in low voices about small things: Daenerys's latest babbling words, Rhaenys's growing collection of herbs, Viserys's improving footwork. The conversation drifted, comfortable and quiet, until sleep finally took them, tangled together under the thin blanket.
***
The next afternoon a raven arrived, wings flapping hard against the courtyard fountain. The bird landed with a flutter, dark feathers ruffled from the long flight. Lira brought the message straight to Adian in the solar, her face serious as she handed over the small scroll.
He broke the seal and read the coded lines from Barbrey. His expression stayed calm on the surface, but his eyes sharpened with focus. Cersei was moving pieces quietly, strengthening her grip on the Small Council through careful favors and quiet threats. In the North, some lords were testing the Frey-Dustin trade agreements—nothing open yet, but pressure on the tolls and routes, grumbling about who truly controlled the flow of goods through the Neck. Barbrey and Genna were holding firm, keeping the lords fed and paid, but they needed him back to steady the web before cracks widened.
Adian folded the letter carefully and burned it in the small brazier near the window. He stood for a long moment watching the ashes curl and blacken, mind turning over the next moves. Robert's decline was accelerating. The realm was a powder keg waiting for the spark. He needed to be in the Neck before it ignited.
Rhaella found him there a few minutes later. She stepped into the solar quietly, closing the door behind her. "Bad news?" she asked, reading the tension in his shoulders.
"Expected news," he said, turning to face her. "Robert's steadily on his way out. Cersei's positioning herself, and the Northern lords are testing the trade agreements. I need to be back in the Neck before the realm starts tearing itself apart again. I'll sail in three days."
She stepped close and rested her head on his shoulder, one arm sliding around his waist. Her body was warm against him, a quiet comfort in the moment. "Then we make the most of these three days," she said softly. "Whatever you need from me, I'm here."
***
The next three days passed in a controlled blur of preparations. Adian barely slept, moving between the manse and his contacts with relentless focus. He shifted extra coin to the watchers, updated the trade route ledgers with new contingencies, and reinforced the hidden protections around the household. The secondary safe cache across the canal was double-checked and stocked with extra food, sealed water, gold, and a fast boat ready if they needed to move quickly. Lira received clear, detailed instructions and a fat pouch for emergencies, her face serious as she memorized every step.
Viserys took the news of Adian's departure with a mix of frustration and determination. During their final training session in the courtyard, the boy swung harder than usual, his wooden sword whistling through the air with raw force. Sweat flew from his silver hair as he attacked.
"You're leaving us here to rot while you go play merchant again?" Viserys snapped after a missed parry, breathing hard, eyes flashing with anger and something like hurt.
Adian blocked the strike cleanly and stepped inside, tapping the boy's ribs with the tip of his own rod. "I'm leaving to make sure there's still a world worth taking back when you're ready," he said evenly. "Angry swings get you killed. Smart ones win thrones. Choose which one you want to be."
Viserys breathed hard, sweat dripping from his silver hair onto the stone. He lowered the wooden blade, shoulders slumping slightly. "Just… come back soon. I still have much to learn."
"You do," Adian said, clapping the boy's shoulder firmly. "Keep practicing what I showed you. Control first. The fire is useless without it."
Rhaenys hugged him tightly when she heard the news, her small arms wrapping around his waist. "Bring back something from the sea," she whispered, voice muffled against his tunic. "A shell or a pretty stone. And be careful of pirates. I don't want you coming back with more scars."
Daenerys refused to let go of his leg for a long time when he told her, chanting "Sea man stay" in her high, stubborn voice, her chubby hands fisting in his breeches. She buried her face against his knee, refusing to look up until Rhaella gently pried her away with promises of extra stories later. The toddler's eyes were wet, and she kept reaching for him even as she was carried away.
***
That final night, the manse was quiet. The children were asleep, the household settled into the deep stillness that only came after a long day of preparation and worry. The faint lap of canal water against the stone walls outside was the only sound breaking the silence, a constant, gentle reminder of the city that surrounded them. Rhaella found Adian in the solar, staring at the latest messages from the factors spread across the heavy wooden table. The papers were covered in neat columns of numbers and coded notes—trade routes, coin flows, watch schedules. He hadn't moved in some time, one hand resting on the edge of the table, brow furrowed in thought.
She closed the door softly behind her, the latch clicking into place with a quiet finality. The sound seemed to pull him from his thoughts. Rhaella crossed to him without a word, her bare feet silent on the cool floor. Her simple nightgown swayed with each step, the fabric clinging softly to her fuller figure. She stopped in front of him, violet eyes searching his face for a long moment.
Her hands slid up his chest, palms warm through his tunic. "No more planning tonight," she said, voice low and soft, carrying that familiar needy edge. "Just us. For these last hours."
Adian looked at her, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly at her touch. He set the messages aside and pulled her closer, but she was already moving, pushing him gently back into the sturdy chair by the window. The night air drifted in through the partially open shutters, carrying the cool salt breeze from the canals. Rhaella straddled his lap, gown rucked up around her hips in a hurried bunch of fabric. She reached between them, guiding his thick cock to her entrance, and sank down onto him with a long, relieved moan, taking every thick inch in one smooth, eager motion.
{R-18 Scene Adian x Rhaella 1378 Full Word Count aFireFist on p.a.t.r.e.o.n.}
The next morning the black-painted skiff waited at a quiet dock. Adian stood on the deck, cloak pulled tight against the salt wind. Rhaella had come with him, wrapped in a plain traveling cloak. She held his hands tightly for a moment.
"Come back to us," she said quietly, violet eyes steady. "We'll be here. Waiting."
"I will," he promised, pulling her close one last time. He kissed her deeply, tasting the salt of a single tear on her cheek.
Then he boarded. The skiff pushed off into the canal, heading toward the open sea and the long journey back to the Neck.
Adian stood at the rail as Braavos faded behind them. The Titan's roar echoed in the distance. His mind was already turning to what waited in Westeros.
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