1.
Davos stood among the ashes of the Seven that had been burned the night before. Smoke still rose from the scatter of ash still hot enough to burn, like those one might find in the hearth of his chamber come the morning. But there was nothing welcoming about their warmth, instead they stood as a reminder of the damage they had done. We have turned our backs on the Gods, and we will suffer for it. It would not do to voice his fears before his King; Stannis was less likely than most to listen. He would simply grind his teeth and muse over his table, carved intricately into the map of Westeros and when Davos was done, he'd dismiss him and his woes.
Instead, Davos took the honourable route, though it made his skin crawl to consider such a task. Has being honourable always been so—unnatural to me? Once Davos considered the life of piracy a necessary flaunt of the rules, especially if he were to feed eight hungry mouths. His sons were only just of age to help him plunder the sea and shore alike, and his wife was never one for taking from others, though she lived comfortably from the treasures of such a trade. Since his knighthood however, his honour had increased tenfold though he could not explain why. I would do anything for my King. Anything and then some.
She came to him at the time he had requested, though he could sense her presence long before she arrived. The burning ash grew brighter and the smoke rose higher, spindly grey fingers clawing at the clouds above them.
"Lord Davos," She purred, standing just outside of the circle of burned debris. "The night is—…"
"…dark and full of terrors, I know." Davos was beginning to grow loathsome of her prayers.
"The night is a strange time to meet, my lord." She smiled at him, as though mocking his misinterpretation. Melisandre wore a long scarlet dress cinched at the waist with a thin belt of enamelled bronze that only flattered her curved figure more. Waves of long red hair whipped and snapped like a banner in the wind; flames licking up the salt air. The heat from the priestess was stifling and uncomfortable. For one moment, Davos allowed himself to wonder what it would be like to touch her pale skin and feel the warmth oozing from her pores. He shivered.
"Tell me, Melisandre—what do you stand to achieve by having King Stannis take the Iron Throne?" Davos rested his hand on the hilt of his sword; the other fondled the pouch around his neck for assurance. No, don't do that. Any sign of weakness and the red woman will pounce. He quickly dropped his hand.
"Stannis Baratheon is Azor Ahai; the chosen one who will lead us out of the darkness. Without his success, we will be cast to the shadows for eternity." Though her words carried much despair, Melisandre smiled beautifully and clasped her hands together.
Davos frowned. "Is that what you see in your fires, my lady?" The ruby at the woman's throat began to pulsate, the red light within growing brighter and brighter until it was all he could do not to turn away and shield his eyes.
"I see much and more in my fires, Lord Davos." Melisandre had to raise her voice to be heard over the roaring waves. A storm was coming, and the ocean was beginning to express its displeasure, spewing over the rocks behind him and swallowing up the grey sandy shore. Plumes of ash began to swirl around him as the wind picked up a little, voicing its discomfort also. But none felt less at ease than Davos.
"Aye, you see things, mayhaps. But could it be that you read them wrong?" Davos meant to slight the red woman as she had earlier, but she only smiled more, releasing her hands and lifting them. Suddenly, the ash that encircled him ignited once more. The flames rose so high Davos could not see a thing, and the heat was unbearable.
"You tell me, Lord Davos." Melisandre sang, though she could not be seen through the wall of fire. Davos lifted an arm across his forehead to shield his eyes, but salty tears ran down his cheeks nonetheless, his eyes straining at the intensity of the heat. The smell was that of burning wood; earthy and thick—but another smell lingered there too. Burning… people burning. Davos closed his eyes, but the images danced through his mind as clear as day. He could hear the screams, the sound of roaring flames and everything was red. Everything was dead. The sea ran pink with blood, and the sky was black with smoke. When Davos opened his eyes—she was there.
"You saw them, didn't you Lord Davos?" They stood mere inches apart; her breath was as hot as the fires that surrounded them. How did she cross the flames and not burn? Why didn't she burn? Why won't she burn? Why can't she just burn? Davos thought to step back, but the flames at his back were already whispering their threats at his cloak.
"I saw nothing but flames."
"Exactly," She said, her voice hushed and gentle. "The flames are coming for you, Lord Davos. I have seen them in my fires and now you have, too."
Davos looked around quickly to prevent his eyes from watering further. The fire had grown taller to such a point he could not see the end of the flames. She means to burn me alive here.
"I saw flames, my lady, because that is exactly what we are surrounded by." Davos would not break.
Melisandre laughed. "Quite," Stepping back, the red priestess looked passed the onion knight and towards the fires. All at once her hair lifted from her shoulders and spread like the wings of an eagle in a thousand directions, framing her face in a halo of blood. When her eyes closed and her lip parted, the flames fell away into nothing, and only ash remained. "Let me tell you something, Lord Davos. I have seen the pain you will suffer in due course, and I weep for you, truly. But I can also help you."
Davos wiped the dampness from his cheeks and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. "It was my faith that helped me, Melisandre. And we have turned away from them on your command." Davos had never been one for bitterness, but he had much and more in regards to this woman.
Melisandre circled him slowly, and wherever she went the heat of the fires that had once kissed his skin returned, only this time it was a biting pain instead of a gradual one. "Seven Gods for seven sons."
"And each will protect one of my boys."
"The Maiden does not protect boys, so who is looking after young Maric?" The mere mention of his son's name on that red woman's lips made Davos clench his teeth in distain. No weakness, smuggler. Show no weakness.
"The Warrior protects them all in battle, and the Smith when trading at sea." Davos replied, just as Melisandre stopped full circle to stand before him once more, though not as close. This time she was not smiling.
"No, Lord Davos—the night is dark and will be full of many terrors for your sons. It is the Lord of Light; R'hllor, who will save their souls." She smiled again then, and stepped dangerously close, her scarlet eyes shining in her own light. "Of course, they cannot be saved."
Davos recoiled, reaching once more for his sword. "What did you say?"
"The Lord of Light will take what he wants and I cannot prevent him." She shrugged languidly and looked to the ground. "But I can help you save another. I can save your boy Devan from unspeakable pain, Lord Davos." Melisandre smiled and reached to touch his cheek, but Davos shied away.
"You're lying, red witch." He turned his head and spat into the ash by his feet.
"Am I?" Melisandre turned the palms of her hands to the sky and the debris around them began to ignite. "Shall I let you see for yourself, Lord Davos? I must warn you, the sound of Devan screaming in terror was not easy for me to witness. I should think you would suffer his howls of suffering even more so than I." There was an air of taunting in her tone, and the way her terrible red eyes lit up at the idea was sickening. Davos could taste the revulsion on his tongue. But he believed her. Why would she lie about Devan? The boy is young and half mad with love for her. It was as though she sensed his trust, and closed her fingers into her palms, killing the flames. This time her smile was kind, and strangely reassuring. She took his stunted hand and for a moment Davos thought she might burn right through the tough leather fabric with her heat. "Come, Lord Davos. Tonight we shall save your son."
