Chapter 67

On the road to the Wall, 303 AC

The new year has begun on this night, and the soldiers are celebrating, nevertheless. Stannis is observing them, from inside his tent, his arms crossed on his chest. He is still wearing his armour, even tho it has been long since the sun has set. He swallows hard when he hears the men laughing. They are still in the south, the weather is warm, but Stannis can feel it is not going to last. Their lives are not, either. He wonders how many of these young men will return in their home, how many will die suffering as hell, how many will have their heads cut off. He shivers violently as draught surprises him and grabs his cape around him tighter, before turning around. Melisandre has gotten in. She curtseys. He eyes the bed, feeling just as scared as for his first night with Aylis. The Red woman unties the belt that gird her robe and let the light piece of cloth fall at her feet, before stepping aside. Stannis stares at her, although he knows he should not, but he is still somehow marvelled at how the cold does not seem to have an effect on her. Her skin does not shiver, her nipples do not harden. She walks towards him, a smile roving on her lips. He closes his eyes as she touches him, running her hands under the fabric of his shirt, under the heavy armour. "My King..." She whispers, her lips closing on his skin, heat on cold. This is so wrong, he thinks, keeping his eyes closed, willing to see Aylis in his mind. But it is useless. Everything is so different: Aylis likes to huddle up against him to get warm, while Melisandre is the one warming him up. Slowly, the warm hands undo the armour, letting it fall, then undress Stannis completely. He stays still, unable to do whatsoever, paralysed by the guilt. This act is needed, it is needed because the Others are born from magic, and magic have to be used against him. It is needed because they are ice, and Melisandre and her weird God are fire. It is needed to save his soldiers, and his kingdom. But he hates all of this. He hates that he has to break his vow towards Aylis, the only woman he has ever loved.

"My King?" The soft voice of Melisandre calls out at him.

He looks at her, as if he just realises she is here.

"What?"

She nods slightly towards his feet and he looks down too: he is naked in front of her. He has not even felt her take his clothes off.

"You do not look... excited about this" she precises. He is limp. He cannot help feeling slightly humiliated. With Aylis, it has never happened.

"Sorry I am not used to cheat on my wife" he dryly says.

She lays her warm hands on his cheeks and her thumbs stroke him.

"You should not see things this way..."

"And how should I see things, then?!" He angrily shouts. "You tell me I have to do this. I do not want to do this!"

She does not move. She does not look afraid. She even smiles, slightly.

"I know you love the Queen. This is not about her, this is about your duty. Your duty requires sacrifice. You will still love her tomorrow, my King."

"Of course I will" he groans, and gasps as she wraps her hand around his sex, starting to rub it slowly. He tries to relax, to let pleasure settling in, but he cannot. Melisandre's lips run on his throat, her free hand stroking his chest, running down his stomach, her fingers playing with his hair. Stannis closes his eyes, swallowing hard and gasping again, louder, when her lips replace her hand. He feels relieved as his shaft grows hard and swollen, but he keeps his eyes closed. It is only when Melisandre stands up again, and lies on the bed, that he dares opening them. The lights of the flames cast shadows on her body. Her red hair contrasts with the white sheets, as a spot of blood on immaculate skin. She looks at him, smiles a bit, and he joins her. Let's get rid of it, he thinks. As he lays on her, he feels her thighs wrapping around his waist, holding him tight as if she wants him to be her prisoner. Aylis like doing that too, he thinks and turns his head on a side, staring at a flame, as he slides in her wet folds. He gasps, again: she is so warm, almost hot, turning him very uncomfortable. Already, sweat is form around his temples, and run from the back of his neck to the birth of his butt. He stares at the flames as he starts thrusting, already reaching her depth. With each of his movements, she cries out, and the flames grow and shrink, grow and shrink. He feels her hands on his hair, stroking it gently and he suddenly stops, pins her wrists on the sheets, and slams her body, as hard and as fast as he can. He wants it to be over, soon.

"Look at me, my king" Melisandre pleads. He gives her more pleasure than she could dream of. Aylis has been a good teacher. But he is still staring at an invisible point throughout the candles that are all around his tent. Is he trying to look for a sign from R'hllor? But no, it is not Stannis. He does not believe in any Gods, she even thinks he does not believe he is Azor Ahai. He uses her, as a sword in the darkness, as a fire against the long cold night. Melisandre does not mind: he can use her, as long as she can use him too. Her eyes roll over as his thrusts intensify again. The more she will take pleasure, the more strong he is, the more strong the shadow will be. She silently prays R'hllor, not to conceive the shadow, but to thank him for everything He has given to her. When she is done with her prayers, she whimpers the name of her King, as he gets her closer from the edge with each of his movements. Stannis feels her getting close, her walls getting hotter and hotter, their two bodies slipping against each other with the sweat that covers them. He cannot help the moan that escape her lips as hers part to cry out. He joins her soon in her climax, and let his seed flow in her, to give him the last weapon he needs to end this war. The pleasure, the act leave him exhausted and he collapses on Melisandre, but soon rolls off her and turns his back at her. She remains on her back, her heart beating, her hands brushing her slit, swollen with pleasure, a smile roving on her lips. Without a doubt, the shadow has been conceived now. The fires of Stannis are too high, too powerful. As she turns her head to him, she wonders how this shadow will look like. She is pretty sure it will be the deadliest that ever existed on this land. Her hand brushes Stannis shoulders, but he does not move, and she curls up, staring at the flame, and quickly drifting off to sleep. Stannis, well awake, does not feel like he should tell her to leave. He knows he needs to rest, and does not want to fight another battle tonight. Tired, he closes his eyes, sending all his thoughts towards his wife, back there in Riverrun.