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Nonbeliever

Lady Melisandre of Asshai is the most beautiful woman Theon has ever seen. Which does not say much, considering he has spent the last eight years of his life locked in Dragonstone. Still, she is radiant and enthralling like candlelight for a fly. Theon knows what fate comes with that, and he does not want to be a fly.

It is not so easy though. A candle cannot go to the reluctant fly, but Melisandre comes to him one day.

Her lips, her eyes, her touch… all are full of promises, sweet as honey, heated as fire. She clings close to him. Her hair is glowing in the light of the setting sun and she smells like spices and flowers, seas of them, like the summer the eastern shores can bring.

Theon would step back but there is nowhere to, he stands by the Painted Table already. So he only catches her hand to stop her.

"I'm not interested," he tells her but he does not need Melisandre's amused face to know that he did not sound convincing at all.

"Your body speaks otherwise," she coos.

"Maybe. But I make the decisions. And you… you are owned by a god."

"I'm a priestess, not a septa," Melisandre points out.

"It doesn't matter."

Her smile becomes mocking, one full of disbelief. "Are you afraid that the fake god of yours, the Drowned, would disapprove? Your faith in him is so strong?"

"I have no faith in him. But I know he exists. He tried to kill me when I was thirteen."

Because she draws back from him, Theon could step aside without impolitely pushing her.

"I vowed then that I'd keep myself away from all the gods and their puppets."

Melisandre raises her nicely curved eyebrows. "Is that what I am? A puppet in my god's hands?"

"Offending you wasn't my intention, my lady."

"But you meant it."

"I did."

"It wasn't my Lord who hurt you," Melisandre reminds him. "He is not your enemy."

"I didn't think the Drowned was my enemy, or reckoned myself as his enemy, and still…" He shrugs. "If the Drowned God is real, any of them can be real. Each of them. The old, the new, the one with those many faces… your Light Lord. In that case, it's better to avoid any connection with them, so it's better to avoid you."

After a bow, he is about to leave.

"The Lord of Light," Melisandre says irritated, raising her voice.

Theon turns at the door and bows again.

"Right, of course. My apologies."