"I can give you even more, if you desire it."
The Red Priestess slowly pulled back her hood and loosened her robes, her voice carrying a sweet, seductive tone.
Bathed in crimson candlelight, Melisandre stood before Gendry like a vision from a dream. The large ruby hanging from her throat glowed faintly, reflecting the firelight in her striking red eyes.
She was tall, beautiful, and graceful. Her partially opened robes revealed elegant curves, while her confident posture only enhanced her allure. Few men could have remained unmoved by such a sight.
Gendry, however, remained calm.
Still testing me?
Outside the chamber stood Ser Barristan Selmy. If anything suspicious happened, the old knight's sword would be through the door in moments.
The room carried a strange fragrance, one that stirred desire and clouded the mind. Whether it came from Melisandre's beauty or from some subtle form of magic, Gendry could not say.
"You truly are handsome," Melisandre said as she studied him. "Tall, strong, and proud. Your hair is as black as charcoal. I wonder if the hair on your chest is the same. The blood of House Baratheon carries the fury of the storm. I admit, I am curious."
A playful smile touched her lips.
"I could offer you pleasures unlike anything you've ever known. Do not worry—I would not take your life force. We would merely share the most primal of human joys."
"Lady Melisandre," Gendry said evenly, "please put your clothes back on."
Using the sheath of Orphan-Maker, he flicked her discarded robe toward her.
The touch of the Valyrian steel sword always brought him a sense of clarity. Sometimes he felt that the ancient metal possessed powers beyond ordinary understanding, perhaps even the ability to weaken enchantments.
His fingers rested lightly on the hilt.
Melisandre raised an eyebrow.
"The fearless Storm Lord is frightened by a naked woman?"
Nevertheless, she obediently pulled her robes back into place.
"I simply admire you," she continued. "Your flame burns brighter than any I have ever seen. From Asshai to Westeros, I have encountered countless souls, yet none possess such vitality."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Melisandre stepped closer and rested a hand upon his arm.
"The Lord of Light values purity and punishes corruption."
Gendry looked directly into her crimson eyes.
"And what exactly do you want me to sacrifice, my lady?"
His voice was calm, but his meaning was clear.
Was she after his blood?
The blood of Robert Baratheon's line?
Or perhaps she wanted holy sites burned in the name of her god—the ancient godswood of Storm's End or the old temples of Dragonstone.
Melisandre sighed softly.
"Let us not speak of sacrifice tonight."
She gazed into the dancing flames.
"Only death can pay for life. You have witnessed that truth yourself. Dragons were born from death. Khal Drogo's death. The deaths of Viserys and countless others. Magic demands a price."
Gendry folded his arms.
"I am searching for another path."
Melisandre studied him carefully.
Many forms of magic demanded faith, sacrifice, and devotion to gods. Others required blood.
But Gendry sought something different.
Power drawn from himself.
Power that belonged to no deity.
"Then I can only wish you success," Melisandre replied. "The path you've chosen is far more difficult."
Her expression became thoughtful.
"You remind me of Stannis in some ways. Neither of you are truly pious. You place faith in yourselves above all else."
She paused.
"The Dragonlords of Old Valyria were much the same. They scorned gods and pursued power alone. In the end, even they could not escape destruction."
Gendry shrugged.
"Perhaps. But for now, I need your help."
Melisandre tilted her head.
"In the coming war, your magic may prove useful. Consider serving as my shield against forces I do not yet understand."
The Red Priestess smiled faintly.
"Even after rejecting my invitation, you still ask for my aid."
"The two aren't related."
A laugh escaped her lips.
"In that case, I shall answer honestly."
Her expression grew serious.
"The struggle for King's Landing is insignificant compared to what approaches from the north."
The amusement vanished from her eyes.
"There are ancient powers awakening. Terrible things. Things older than kingdoms and older than memory itself."
A chill seemed to creep into the room.
"The cold winds are already blowing. Soon the Long Night will return."
She leaned closer.
"Unless brave men stand against it."
Gendry remained silent for a moment.
"The future war may indeed be important," he finally said. "But if I lose the present one, there will be no kingdom left to save."
"That is why time is precious."
Melisandre's voice carried unusual urgency.
"Humanity's hourglass is running out. Westeros must unite beneath the rightful king. Only then can it survive what is coming."
"The Prince That Was Promised?" Gendry asked.
"The prophecy has many interpretations."
Gendry studied her.
"Why did you leave Asshai and travel all the way to Westeros?"
For the first time, genuine emotion appeared on her face.
"Because Westeros stands at the center of the world's fate."
Her red eyes reflected the flames.
"This land is where the powers of gods converge. The Lord of Light. The Great Other. The Old Gods. Countless forces struggle against one another here."
She lowered her voice.
"When signs began to appear, I knew I had to come."
"The signs?"
"Lightbringer. Dragons. Ancient powers stirring once more."
Her gaze sharpened.
"And perhaps Azor Ahai reborn."
Gendry nodded thoughtfully.
His mind drifted toward the distant North and the mysteries beyond the Wall.
The Red Priestess's words sounded extreme, yet Westeros was undeniably changing.
Dragons had returned.
Magic was growing stronger.
And ancient legends no longer seemed impossible.
"My lady," Gendry said, "I hope you understand something."
"What is that?"
"I only want the parts of your teachings that benefit me."
Melisandre laughed.
"Spoken like a true king."
"A future king."
"A ruthless one."
Her eyes sparkled with amusement.
"You are far too disciplined for your age. Most boys spend their youth chasing wine, glory, and beautiful women."
"And what do I chase?"
"Power."
Gendry's expression remained calm.
"I want more than glory."
His voice hardened.
"I do not intend to become a servant of any god."
"I intend to become the greatest king Westeros has ever seen."
For a brief moment, silence filled the room.
Then Melisandre smiled.
"Perhaps that is why I find you so fascinating."
Her hand slid across his chest.
Instantly, Gendry caught her wrist.
"Enough."
The strength of his grip increased steadily.
A normal person would have cried out in pain.
Yet Melisandre merely watched him.
The ruby around her neck suddenly began to glow.
Heat radiated from the gemstone.
Magic.
Gendry could feel it resisting his strength.
"What did you sacrifice for your power?" he asked.
Melisandre's expression softened.
"Faith. Prayer. Devotion."
"And blood?"
"Sometimes."
The glow faded.
"Power always demands a price."
She gently withdrew her hand.
"I have spoken enough for one night."
After a brief pause, she added,
"You truly are as immovable as bedrock, Lord Gendry."
With that, the Red Priestess turned and left the chamber.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)