"If you had helped Lord Eddard back then..." Davos said carefully. Were such words truly something a man of his humble birth should say?
It should have been the old Maester saying them, but the old Maester was dead. Davos had seen it with his own eyes. The old Maester had brought poison to the red priestess, only to die himself.
Lady Melisandre of Asshai, the red priestess, listened quietly to their conversation without saying a word. She was red from head to toe, dressed in a long silk gown bright as living flame, with long sleeves and a cut bodice that revealed a darker blood-red undergarment beneath. Around her throat was a red-gold collar tighter than any maester's chain, set with a great ruby.
"Why should I have helped Eddard Stark? What was he to me? Hmph. Robert loved him, I know that well. He was always saying they were 'as close as brothers.' I heard that phrase more times than I can count. His brother was Eddard, not me. I held Storm's End for him and watched my loyal men starve one by one while the Tyrells and Redwyne feasted outside the walls, yet he thanked Stark for saving us while I was eating rats. I besieged Dragonstone for him, and he complained that I had failed to keep Viserys and that infant girl for him. I served him in King's Landing for more than ten years, helped Jon Arryn govern the realm so he could eat, drink, whore, and gamble in peace. Did he ever think to make me Hand of the King? No. Instead, he rode a thousand miles to seek out Stark. Did Robert ever thank me? Never. He thanked Stark. Even in death, he gave the honor of the regency to Eddard. And what of me?"
Davos looked at Stannis in his fury and found himself unable to speak. Those memories had pierced Stannis Baratheon full of wounds.
Stannis was hard by nature and fiercely proud. Once he made up his mind, there was no turning him back. Worse still, Stannis also carried the common flaws of second sons. He was too sensitive, too proud, and he remembered every slight.
"Great Lord..." Ser Davos cleared his throat. Ordinary men understood Stannis's justice, but what was too rigid was easily broken. In that moment, Davos suddenly felt Stannis's stubborn self-regard, the way he looked at the world like a wronged wife and refused to hear counsel. But power could not be handled that way. Lord Eddard had probably been the only man in King's Landing who could speak for Stannis and defend his right to inherit. Yet Stannis had not trusted Eddard, and had remained unmoved. He had refused to reveal even half the truth and never answered his letters. And now he had earned an even worse outcome, because Eddard's son was not as rigid as his father.
"But your work must continue. Robert's will is Robert's will, and my discovery is my discovery. I also sent you to speak to the lords and knights about what I found, about the Lannister story. When it comes to rowing, you have never disappointed me."
"Yes." Davos nodded. Stannis seemed to be waiting, watching. Davos could not tell whether he had seen the light of the throne, or was waiting a little longer before considering the king's will. In any case, the throne truly required caution. A crown was easy to put on and hard to take off.
"Ser Davos, the old man once suggested that I send Shireen to The Eyrie and betroth her to the Arryn boy. What do you think?"
Ser Davos was momentarily stunned. This was not something he could answer. Renly had once made a similar proposal.
"The Arryn boy is sickly, and as for that child raised at Storm's End, he defiled our sacred marriage. We have no son because the gods cursed us for what Robert did in our marriage bed that night. As the lawful heir to the Seven Kingdoms, must he now wag his tail before a widow, a bastard, and a usurper?" Just then, a woman's voice suddenly sounded, sharp and accusing.
Ser Davos immediately turned and bowed to Stannis's wife.
Selyse Florent was almost as tall as her husband, thin and unattractive. Her face was narrow and pointed, her ears protruding, her nose sharp in outline, and her upper lip covered with fine hair. She plucked it every day and often complained of it, yet it never stopped growing. Her eyes were pale, her mouth severe, and her voice was sharp as a whip.
"Woman, understand this clearly. I never wag my tail before anyone," Stannis said with a frown.
Davos found his chance to leave, leaving Stannis with the two women. If he stayed, he would hear nothing but endless complaints, and Lord Stannis clearly did not wish him to hear more.
Lady Selyse spoke in a severe tone. "By the will of the true Red God in the heavens, you are the only rightful lord of the Seven Kingdoms. House Arryn, House Stark, your brother Renly, and Robert's bastard whelps should all swear fealty to you. Why will you not ascend the throne? If you bend the knee, or beg these people for aid, or even bargain with them for it, would that not be a loss of dignity?"
Stannis looked at his wife. There was little affection between them, but seeing her now, as if possessed, obeying every teaching of the red priestess, filled him with anger. She had abandoned the old and new gods of the Seven Kingdoms and turned instead to the god they called the Lord of Light.
"Keep your god's will for yourself," Great Lord Stannis said. He was nowhere near as fanatical about the new faith as his wife. "I have other plans."
"What plans?" Selyse said unhappily. "Surely you are not afraid?" Selyse wanted nothing more than to see Stannis crowned, and then to raise the Red God's faith to glory.
"I do not need to explain them to you. Go out first. I will speak with Lady Melisandre about the will of the gods." Stannis sent his wife away. Stannis had never been good with women, and his own wife was no exception. The red priestess was an exception, but then, the red priestess was more than a woman. She was a witch, a special kind of soldier.
During his years in King's Landing as a high minister, Stannis had left Selyse and their daughter behind on Dragonstone. He wrote few letters home and visited even less, fulfilling his marital duties once or twice a year without taking any pleasure in them. He had sincerely hoped for a son, but that wish had never been granted.
"Yes." Lady Selyse walked out, leaving Stannis with the sight of her tall back.
"Do you wish to speak with me, Your Grace?" the red priestess asked Stannis. Her voice was low, with the distinct, pleasing accent of the Jade Sea.
In appearance, the red priestess was far beyond Stannis's ugly wife, and she had the charm of magic as well. Her hair was a polished dark copper-red, rare and gleaming in the torchlight. Even her eyes were red, yet her skin was fair, smooth, and flawless, like fresh cream. She was graceful and slender, taller than most knights, with full breasts, a narrow waist, and a heart-shaped face. Once a man's gaze settled on her, it was hard to look away. Unfortunately, Stannis had little interest in beauty.
"I am not Your Grace, my lady. Perhaps you have heard of my brother's will. Eddard Stark and Barristan Selmy do not lie. He left the position to that blacksmith and legitimized all his bastard children." Stannis sighed. "If the Lord of Light has such power, why did he not tell me the answer beforehand?"
"Your Grace, the past is only the past. The future twists and changes, with ten thousand possible turns. It is like a tree, growing countless branches. Even I am sometimes lost in the flames."
"Do not call me Your Grace. For now, I am still the Great Lord of Dragonstone, though I do not know which king I belong to." Stannis spoke gloomily. "But did you see Robert's bastard rise so suddenly? Did you see me left now with only one small island?"
Stannis knew his own strength perfectly well. Dragonstone had poor soil, while House Florent could field no more than two thousand men, and they were far too close to Highgarden. The nearest choice was still Renly's Storm's End.
"Great deeds are born from hardship, and from the devotion of faith."
"That may be so, but the gods have not favored me. Have you heard that boy's story? They say he is the one favored by the gods, the Warrior come down to earth, and that the Smith is also one form of the gods. The Warrior and the Smith have made him king. He has my brother's charm, the charm inherited from our father's Bloodline. He knows he is the king's son, and he has obtained that will of my brother's. But I suspect the boy will not be grateful either. He is also a proud and violent warrior."
"Are you losing heart? You must never doubt the magic of the Lord of Light. All gods other than the Lord of Light are evil gods." The red priestess suddenly raised her voice. "Look outside the window. Hanging high in the sky is the sign I have long awaited. It is red as fire, just like the fiery heart of the true god. This is the banner of R'hllor, the Red God, and yours as well. Look at it, streaming across the heavens like Dragonflame, and you are the Lord of Dragonstone. This means your age has come. There is no need for doubt. You are destined to sail from this lonely island and sweep aside armies, just as Aegon the Conqueror once did."
"Aegon the Conqueror?" Stannis shook his head. "I have never received praise like that. Such praise does not belong to me. People love my gallant younger brother, and my bastard nephew who is the Warrior come down to earth, just as they once loved Robert. They have never liked me."
"Are you worried about men?" the red priestess realized. "I have seen their deaths in the sacred flames, those false kings. If the Lord of Light reaches out his hand, the armies of Storm's End will be yours, and the lords of the Three Rivers and the North will obey you as well."
"That boy has not been crowned. Only Renly and the Lannister brat are in such a hurry." Stannis hesitated for a moment.
"It is all the same to me. They stand in your path." The red jewel at the red priestess's throat shone brilliantly, as if with a thousand glimmers of light.
"Why did you choose me? Why did the Lord of Light choose me?" Stannis sank back into his seat and spoke bleakly. "I remember Robert's face. Sometimes it appears in my dreams. Laughing, drinking contests, boasting and bragging. Those were the things he was best at. Yes, and fighting. I never surpassed him in anything. The Lord of Light should have made Robert his champion. Why choose me? Or you could choose that bastard of Robert's. He is tall and strong, and they say he is even more violent than Robert was in his day."
"Because you are just. My god has his own arrangements. If you had seen my flames, you would believe in them." The red priestess did not retreat. "According to the ancient books of Asshai, after the Long Summer, when the stars bleed, a cold darkness will cover the world. In that hour of terror, a warrior will draw a burning sword from the flames. That sword is Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes. The one who holds it is Azor Ahai reborn, and he will drive away the darkness. That man is you."
Stannis remained silent and grim. In truth, he did not believe in any gods at all, but the power in his hands was indeed too small, and what he could actually use was even smaller. The red priestess, at least, counted as a high adviser.
"If I, if I wish to gain that power, what must I give?" Stannis asked after a hesitation.
"Fire. Light. The Lord of Light contains power, but of course, I must first see your sincerity, Your Grace. Burn those false gods. Burn this seven-faced god. The Red God will bless us. Once we burn the idols, the Red God will grant us light, for the night is dark and full of terrors."
"Can that power bring me victory?"
"Of course. Whether it is your brother or your nephew, they will all be enemies of the Lord of Light," the red priestess urged. "Once you have looked into the flames, you will see the truth."
"The truth, hmph."
"Renly has already called himself king, but his blood is not the important thing. What I need more is another's blood. Edric or Gendry. Their blood comes from a king, and king's blood means power, extraordinary power. If you give me Edric in the future, I will awaken greater power."
"Enough. Leave me for now," Stannis said to the red priestess. "Let me consider it alone."
"Yes."
When everyone had scattered and gone, Stannis looked at Storm's End's position on the Painted Table.
"You have truly left me with a difficult question. What am I supposed to do? When you rebelled, I chose family over honor. Today's choice is harder still. Family, honor, duty. You were a fool, a whoremonger, a drunkard, an arrogant madman. A foolish marriage and a foolish will killed you, killed Arryn, and killed Stark as well. Yet I believe that will was written by you. What should I do? I will become a man who kills his brother and his nephew, while the red priestess calls me the savior. How laughable."
Stannis sat in his seat, listening to the wind rage outside. Even the boundless sea could not drown out the turmoil in his heart.
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