Chapter 9 – Melisandre – Home

Asshai was less populated than Melisandre remembered, and darker. Being in Westeros and its big cities the last few years, Asshai had turned better in her head with her growing homesickness. Although she had liked her time in Westeros, advising powerful men, seeing the different landscapes of the vast continent, she had finally become too tired to continue. It was her luck that Jon Snow and Ser Davos had arrived on Dragonstone – her excuse to finally go home.

The people she passed in the streets greeted her respectfully, albeit they had no idea who she was. But she was still a Red Priestess and therefore one of the most important persons of the town.

On her way to the temple, she saw another Red Priestess speaking to a few people, praising the Lord of Light. She knew that the girl was young, by the way, she spoke and gestured. She remembered her first preaching and shook her head in bitterness. This young girl had no idea – as she had had no idea these many years ago – how hard it could be to serve the Lord properly, how much you sometimes had to sacrifice for Him…

Suddenly someone ran into her. It was a little girl with blond long hair and expressive eyes. She instantly remembered her of Shireen… Her biggest mistake and the one she'd like to forget the most…

"I'm very sorry," the girl said, looking scared at her.

She didn't want the girl to be scared, so she smiled and gently stroked her hair. "No, I'm sorry."

It worked, for the girl smiled tentatively, and then ran along.

Yes, go into the world, little Shireen, and be happy, she thought, looking after the girl, until she vanished in the gloomy alleys of Asshai.

It was slowly getting darker, twilight approaching quickly, as she made her way west to the Temple of Asshai, over the river Ash and the market place. Although the city was huge, there were only a few people still living here.

Twilight was the best time to reach the temple, for the golden sinking sun stood exactly over the top of the roof, illuminating it as if the Lord of Light shone the light Himself. The building itself was nothing fancy: small, round, with no ornaments, grey walls, simply standing on a hill as if it had always belonged to the landscape of Asshai.

Melisandre took the many steps up to the temple and entered the sacred place. Inside, the walls and décor were as red as her hair, the flames of the gigantic hearth in the middle of the round room colouring everything with a golden shine. The inside was even more breath-taking when you first saw the simple outside.

There was no furniture in the room, only the huge fire. It was said that this was the original flame the Lord of Light had given to the humans many, many eons ago, and that since then, this fire had always flamed. In front of the fire, five women in long red dresses with golden symbols stitched into the delicate material were attending to the fire or helping prayers' find their answers in the flames.

One of them, the oldest and therefore leader of the Guardians of the Eternal Flame, turned around, recognised her and went to her with a smile. "Melisandre," she said as warm as the heat of the flames tickling her skin. "It's good to see you back."

"It's good to be back, Hestia," she greeted and bowed. It felt wonderful to hear her mother-tongue again and also to reply in it.

"We've been waiting for you. R'hllor has foretold your arrival."

"The Lord of Light is never wrong," Melisandre replied with a bitter smile. Only I am…

"Please," Hestia motioned a hand towards the Eternal Flame. "Look into the fire. Find out what He wants you to do next."

Melisandre nodded and went gracefully towards the hearth. There she fell on her knees and stared into the flames. She knew it took a while to finally see pictures, so she waited patiently, trying not to blink, dreamingly following the different shades of yellow, orange, and red. Finally, she made out something. A woman, an old woman, with long hair. This woman lay in a bed and peered at the ceiling. When she looked to the side and into Melisandre's eyes, she saw herself – and she knew what the Lord wanted her to do next.

Nodding in acceptance, she stood up and returned to Hestia. "He wants me to resign my duty as a priestess and live the rest of my life in peace," she told her without emotion. She wasn't sure if she should be happy about this outcome, but on the other hand, she was just too tired to care anymore.

"That's wonderful," Hestia smiled. "It means that you have fulfilled your purpose in life and have completed your mission."

"But I've made so many mistakes," she suddenly exclaimed. "I had lost my path completely, following the wrong man…" She didn't feel worthy of a peaceful end. She still had to redeem herself, hadn't she?

Hestia took her hand between hers reassuringly. "But you have found your rightful path again and that is all that matters. R'hllor is proud of you."

Slowly Melisandre nodded. She had no idea if Hestia was right; she was torn between redemption and surrender but a great part of her merely wanted to fall asleep and hopefully never wake up…

"You know what we have to do now?" Hestia asked tentatively and guided her towards a door that led them into a small room.

Once inside with the door closed behind them, Melisandre took off her magical necklace without any comment and gave it to the leader of the Guardians of the Eternal Flame. This necklace would now be given to a new Red Priestess, whom she wished better luck in her life than she had had.

Shrunken and full of wrinkles, with white hair and aching bones, Melisandre undressed herself, folding the red dress neatly on a chair, and dressing herself then in the boring-looking grey woollen dress that Hestia gave her. She had entered the temple as a Red Priestess, but she would leave it as an old woman that no one would recognise…

Hestia accompanied her to the entrance of the Temple and put her hands on Melisandre's shoulders. "The night is dark and full of terrors. But I believe that there still will be a lot of light in your nights. Don't be afraid, be happy, dear Melisandre, and come back whenever you want to pray."

Struck with sudden emotions, she could only whisper her reply. "Thank you."

Hestia smiled and released her. "You can live in the Resting House. We have prepared a room for you, so I hope you will like it."

Melisandre nodded and slowly stepped down the many steps, every move hurting her body, and into the streets of Asshai. She didn't turn around, she didn't want to see the temple in darkness, now that the sun had vanished. This sight had always frightened her as if R'hllor had forgotten them.

It was difficult to walk in her real body again, now that it was so old and fragile. Very slowly she made her way around the temple. When she finally reached the Resting House (the place were old priestesses went when their Lord didn't need them anymore), she was glad to find her room as clean and welcoming as Hestia had promised. Quickly she lit all the candles she could find and made a fire in the chimney.

The night is dark and full of terrors, she knew, but she had enough of it. Instead, she embraced the light her Lord provided for her, trying to forget everything bad she had done in her life, although it was difficult, even with all the flames in the room.

She lay down in the bed and stared into the fire. She had killed all those people, even the Maester of Dragonstone, and all of that for the wrong prince. Many had been sacrificed because she had been wrong. The night is dark and full of terrors, but the fire burns them all away, she had told herself over and over again to fill her thoughts with something else than the men's and women's screams…

Suddenly she saw something in the flames and squinted her eyes to look better. She saw a young man with curly black hair – Jon Snow? He stood on a meadow and laughed. It was summer.

Melisandre blinked. Did this mean… that Jon Snow would survive the winter? Of course, it could also mean that he would flee to Essos, but would he grin happily like this if he had? The more she saw of this beautiful scene, the more she smiled herself. Slowly her eyes closed in sudden exhaustion. She had been right this time: Jon Snow was the prince that was promised to lead through the Long Night, this time she was absolutely certain! She had fulfilled her purpose by bringing him back from the Dead.

"Oh, thank you, R'hllor," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. Now she could die in peace. And she was even home to do so, she wouldn't die in that 'strange country' after all as she had told Varys, and neither would she be killed by that fierce girl who had tried to protect Gendry. No, she had brought fire and ice together, had helped the prince that was promised on his way, and now her life was fulfilled.

And with one last breath, life left Melisandre and welcomed her to the afterlife her Lord had provided for her.