The Red Priestess took her leave, and the desolate, uninhabited hall was left with only the lonely Duke Stannis Baratheon in the Round Table Hall of Stone Drum Castle, listening to the roar of the sea and wind.
"My life has not known much joy," Stannis thought, his life having a cold undertone that shaped him into a harsh and twisted man. Stannis's appearance was not outstanding, and his personality was like cold iron, earning him little affection.
Worse still was his life: Duke and Duchess Steve died before him in a shipwreck, followed by discord among his three brothers; as for his wife and daughter, thinking of them only caused him more anguish.
"I never believed in the gods above. From the day I witnessed the 'Proud Wind' run aground and sink at Storms End, I stopped believing. I swore to the heavens I would never worship any cruel deity that drowned my parents. And the gods have only become crueler to me since." Stannis looked at the distant sea. "The Seven are like that, and so is the red god. But now I only have a pile of ships; all other heirs are richer than me, and have more troops than me."
"Cruel gods, they don't exist. Even if they do, they have never pitied me. If that's the case, what's the difference between the Seven and the red god? I value the Red Priestess as a person; her reputation alone can scare off many soldiers, not to mention she truly has some means," Stannis muttered.
"Am I destined in this life not to be a leader, but a follower? It was so before, and it is so today. I never wanted that crown, but there are always people to save this kingdom. I have an obligation to the kingdom, to the country, to my daughter, and to Robert. He didn't love me, but he was my brother after all. These monstrous sins, the sins of the Lannisters, should have been judged by me, but, but why did Robert play such a trick on me? He trusted his own son more than me; he made me obey, just as I obeyed family interests more than a decade ago." Stannis took out the two wills from his bosom and read them again, though he had already memorized their contents many times. One was King Robert's blood-stained will, the other was a letter from The Boy Blacksmith, Gendry. Their actions were too swift, so swift that before Stannis could announce his discovery, this ugly secret of the Lannisters began to be exposed. "If The Boy Blacksmith is to save the kingdom, and that person is not me, should I still persist? Renly has already committed treason, but does my act of defying my brother's will conform to human justice?"
"No, who truly is the chosen one? The Red Priestess says it's me, but many say it's my nephew. Perhaps I need to know more, perhaps I need to wait." Stannis put the envelopes back into his bosom, feeling extremely tormented. Different paths, different choices.
The Red Priestess walked out of Duke Stannis's room, leaving behind the disheartened man. Today he was not like a ruthless warrior, but a garrulous, complaining woman.
"Stannis is fine; he will eventually understand his important mission. He is the chosen one of the true god, destined to lead us against the darkness. I once witnessed it in the sacred fire and read it in ancient prophecies: when the stars bleed and the Long Night falls, Azor Ahai will be reborn in the Land of Smoke and Salt and awaken the stone dragon. Now the stars bleed, and Dragonstone is indeed the Land of Smoke and Salt," the Red Priestess thought.
The Red Priestess's theory actually had flaws; after all, Stannis was indeed the Duke of Dragonstone, but he was not born there. He and his brothers were all born at Storms End.
"Stannis, you will eventually face your destiny." The Red Priestess believed her general direction was correct; she was the first sorceress to seek the savior Azor Ahai and the first Red Priest to prepare for the Long Night. Furthermore, a few years ago she could only think of Dragonstone as a clue. The Red Priestess had already invested a lot in Stannis; he was her carefully chosen Azor, and there were already sunk costs.
The Red Priestess chose Stannis also because his territory was small, making him more likely to accept the red god's faith, unlike other Lords. The faiths of the Seven and the old gods were deeply entrenched, and loosening them would be too difficult; only those who had almost nothing would grasp at the red god as a lifeline.
"I foresaw Renly's death in the sacred fire, but I did not catch a glimpse of The Boy Blacksmith." The Red Priestess walked down the stairs; the guards quickly saluted her, their eyes drawn to her. Unlike Stannis's ugly wife, the Red Priestess was completely different from Selyse: young, curvaceous, with a strange beauty, a heart-shaped face, auburn hair, and mysterious red eyes.
The Red Priestess was unconcerned; many coveted her beauty, and many cursed her sorcery. Why wouldn't they believe in her core, her piety to the gods?
"The future, the future is, after all, ever-changing, like a flame in the wind," the Red Priestess muttered to herself. "The matter of that blacksmith, the sacred fire never foresaw it years ago; perhaps some changes have occurred in the future."
The Red Priestess returned to her room and quietly watched the fire in the hearth. She grabbed a handful of silver dust, threw it into the fireplace, and then chanted a hymn. "lord of light, protect us. For the Long Night is long, and dangers abound."
The Red Priestess watched the flames and slowly began to murmur. "I am not here to put an arrogant king on the throne; I am here for the light, for the final battle."
The airflow in the fireplace suddenly grew stronger, and specks of ash flew upwards; the dust was white, but it fell like snow. The sparks in the air slowly formed a circle, turning into a torch, and in the vision of the flame, the Red Priestess saw more.
The Red Priestess saw a high hill in the forest. Behind the torch, the firewood turned into men in black, a tall knight commanding thousands of troops on the hill, resisting the terrifying darkness. But the Red Priestess could not see the knight's face, only confirm that it was a cold place.
"Turn around, turn around, good knight," the Red Priestess prayed, "Let me see your face again. You are the son of fire, the warrior of light, the choice of the red god."
But the image quickly dissipated, and the Red Priestess did not see the full extent of the flame. The Red Priestess looked at the silver dust and gave up the desire to continue watching the flames; only death could exchange for life, only sacrifice could awaken magic. Even she could not abuse this power.
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