Daddy's Precious Little Girl
Shireen, at the tender age of 11, has come to the conclusion that she will never be sought after. Nor does she believe she will ever be betrothed and wed to ally her father's house to another. Her greyscale saw to decimation of the first option, and her dad's lack of charisma saw that the second never come to pass.
Of course, she's also well aware that even had she not been cursed with the disease at a young age, she wouldn't be comely. She has the unfortunate Florent ears, and her father's square jaw. She can only pray that she doesn't inherit her mother's unsightly facial hair in the future. She doesn't need anything else to impede on her already drab looks.
Melisandre has a difference of opinion on her future love life (or lack thereof) it would seem, for she has been called to the red priestess' rooms this day so she might tell her of her future lover. Shireen tries not to let any hope of a comely young man seep into her conscious; with her luck her future husband will be a nasty old greybeard with no teeth. But, the hope that does end up inside her is what has her brave the cold of the wall to seek her mother's red woman.
Said red woman opens the door to her incredibly warm chambers with a slight smile. "Come, princess; the air is cold, but the fire is warm."
Shireen steps into the room, letting the warm air bring pins and needles of feeling back into her numb cheeks and toes. Looking around, she notices her father sitting in one of the three chairs around the fire. His face is set in its usual grim and frowning default, but there is a flicker of apprehension in his cold blue eyes that Shireen has never seen before.
Lady Melisandre ushers her into the chair in beside her father's before sitting in the heavily pillowed chair across from them. The red woman doesn't bother to address Shireen or her father before she begins to stare straight into the flames, the ruby around her throat seeming to pulsate and the room heating up some more.
The little princess doesn't remember exactly how long she had to sit in an awkward silence while her father was insistently grinding his teeth and Melisandre stared unblinking into the leaping red-orange flames in the brazier. She does however remember the relief that flooded her when the red priestess finally blinked and looked up from the flames, a small smile on her pretty pale face.
"You will be married to a boy six years your junior," Shireen's father twitches, but Melisandre took no notice. "He has the look of a Stark; tell me, does Lord Snow have any brothers?"
Stannis shook his head, "All his half-brothers are dead. The one you speak of was killed by the ward of Eddard Stark's."
Melisandre shook her head back at him. "The flames do not lie. That boy is alive, and your daughter shall be his bride."
Shireen blushed slightly at the red woman's prediction, and looked directly into the flames herself. At first, nothing happened; the flames were flames, just flickering and growing and licking at the air. She was about to give up, when the flames seemed to morph; the long, handsome face of a young man with a crooked wolfish smile appeared before her in shades of orange.
The scene changed, the boy, man really, wasn't alone; he was with a woman. The woman in the fire turned to the side, a particularly crackly bit of fire covering the side of her face and as she pushed her hair back, the flames took shape into the ears she'd seen so many times in the mirror and on her mother. Her eyes widened slightly, but she kept focus on the flame as she came to the realisation that the woman in the fire was her.
The man place his hands on the woman's (her?) waist, the flames dancing with the jerky movement of the man pulling the woman to him. His face leaned forward, eyes closing before being mostly hidden by the back of the woman's head. What wasn't hidden was the man's hands creeping from her waist up her back, to the laces of her bodice; undoing said laces with rough tugs until he was able to pull away from the woman and pull the top of her gown down.
Shireen gasped, pulling her face back as if the flames had burned her. In her mind they had, as her cheeks burned a deep red and the image danced on the backs of her eyelids every time she blinked. She took a deep breath before looking up and around hoping she didn't catch either of the adults' eyes.
Unfortunately she had, and while Melisandre looked amused, her father was grinding his teeth so much she didn't know if he'd have any left. "What did she see?"
The red priestess shrugged. "She just glimpsed a bit of what awaits her in the bedchamber with her future husband."
Stannis pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing. "I will not allow such a thing to come to pass; my daughter shant be married to… To some undisciplined, whoremonger like Robert!"
Melisandre gave him a cool look, "I may have misinterpreted exactly who I saw in my flames, or what I saw, but I doubt I did with such extensive evidence and the princess seeing it for herself."
Shireen's father abruptly stood up, catching Shireen by the arm and dragging her from the room. "I will not allow this to happen! It will never come to pass!"
As her father mumbled and began to grind his teeth once again, Shireen couldn't help the small smile that slipped onto her scarred face. She knows she is far from being comely…
… But her future husband sure is.