"I am not Your Grace, lady. Perhaps you've heard my brother's will. Eddard Stark and Barristan Selmy never lie; he left the position to that blacksmith, legitimizing all Bastard children." Stannis sighed. "If the god of light has such power, why didn't he tell me the answer beforehand?"
"Your Grace, the past is merely the past, but the future is winding and full of a thousand changes. It is like a tree, sprouting a thousand branches. Even I sometimes get lost in the fire."
"Don't call me Your Grace. For now, I am still the Duke of Dragonstone, though I don't know what king I belong to. But have you seen the sudden rise of Robert's Bastard? Seen that I am now left with only a small island?" Stannis said irritably.
Stannis was well aware of his own military strength. Dragonstone was barren, and House Florent could muster at most two thousand men, and they were too close to Highgarden. The closest, in fact, was Renly's Storms End.
"Greatness comes from hardship, from the fervor of faith."
"That may be so, but the gods have not favored me. Have you heard the story of that boy? They say he is favored by the gods, a warrior descended, and the blacksmith is also an incarnation of the gods. The warrior and the blacksmith made him king. He has my brother's charm, a charm inherited from his father's bloodline. He knows he is the king's son and has obtained my brother's will. But I doubt that Child will be grateful; he is also a proud and fierce warrior."
"Are you disheartened? Never doubt the magic of the god of light. Outside the god of light, all are evil gods," the Red Priestess suddenly declared. "Please look out the window. High in the sky is the omen I have long awaited: it is red as fire, like the fiery heart of the true god. This is the banner of rhllor, the red god—and it is yours! Look at it, flying above the sky like Dragonflame, and you are the Lord of Dragonstone. This means your time has come, without a doubt. You are destined to sail from this isolated island, sweeping aside armies, just like Aegon the Conqueror did in his day."
"Aegon the Conqueror?" Stannis shook his head. "I have never received such praise; this praise does not belong to me. Others love my dashing brother, my Bastard nephew, the warrior descended, just as they once adored Robert... They have always disliked me."
"Are you worried about manpower?" The Red Priestess understood. "I have foreseen their deaths in the sacred fire, those false kings. If the lord of light lends his aid, then the army of Storms End will be yours, and the Lords of The Three Rivers and the North will obey you."
"That Child has not yet ascended the throne; only Renly and the Lannister boy are impatient," Stannis hesitated.
"To me, they are all the same; they obstruct your path." The red gem at the Red Priestess's throat glowed, as if with a thousand lights.
"Why did you choose me? Why did the lord of light choose me?" Stannis sank back into his seat, saying dejectedly. "I remember Robert's face; he occasionally appears in my dreams. Laughing heartily, drinking contests, boasting. These are the things he was best at. Yes, and fighting. I never surpassed him in any way. The lord of light should have made Robert his champion. Why choose me? Or you could choose Robert's Bastard; he is tall and strong, said to be even more ferocious than Robert was in his youth."
"Because you are just. My god has his own plans, and if you have seen my flames, you will believe my plans." The Red Priestess did not flinch. "According to ancient books from Asshai, after the long summer, the stars will bleed, and a cold darkness will shroud the world. In this terrible hour, a warrior will draw a burning sword from the flames—that sword is lightbringer, the red sword of heroes. The wielder of this sword will be Azor Ahai reborn, and he will drive away the darkness. That person is you."
Stannis remained silent, for he fundamentally disbelieved in any gods, but his current strength was indeed too little, and what was usable was even less. The Red Priestess was, after all, a valuable advisor.
"If I, if I want that power, what must I give in return?" Stannis asked hesitantly.
"Fire, light. The god of light contains power, provided, of course, that I see your sincerity, Your Grace. Burn those false gods, this seven-faced god, and the red god will bless us. Once we burn the idols, the red god will grant us light, for the Long Night is dark and perilous everywhere."
"Can that power bring me victory?"
"Of course, whether it's your brother or your nephew, they will both be enemies of the lord of light," the Red Priestess urged. "As long as you look into the flames, you can see the truth."
"Truth, hmph."
"Renly has already crowned himself king, but his blood is not crucial. What I need more is the blood of others, Edric or Gendry; their blood comes from a king. king's blood represents power, extraordinary power. If you give me Edric in the future, I will awaken more power."
"Enough, you may leave now," Stannis told the Red Priestess. "Let me ponder alone."
"Yes."
When everyone had dispersed, Stannis looked at the location of Storms End on the Round Table Hall.
"You've truly given me a difficult problem. What should I do? When you rebelled, I chose family over honor, but today's choice is even harder. Family, honor, duty. You were a fool, a whoremonger, a drunkard, a megalomaniac. A foolish marriage, a foolish will, killing yourself, killing Arryn, and killing Stark. But, I believe that will was written by you. What should I do? I will become a man who kills his brother, kills his nephew, yet the Red Priestess says I am the savior, how ridiculous."
Stannis sat in his seat, hearing the raging winds, but the vast sea could not calm his troubled mind.
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