Hi guys!

Please R&R

"Don't be afraid of enemies who attack you. Be afraid of the friends who flatter you"

Dale Carnegie

"You shouldn't marry her... You don't need her, or her family. I know young girls like her, they cheat and lie to get what they want. Your Grace, you are the King. Everyone should bow before you and you don't have to beg for people to support you. You will win this battle, and all the others until you sit on the Iron Throne."

Stannis was listening, sit on his armchair. It was night, and he couldn't sleep. Davos was already gone to see her, but he sent no news, no message. He started to think all this was finally a bad idea.

"A king cannot stay alone. A king needs a wife and an heir", he said.

"But you are not any king, my lord."

From the darkness of the end of the room, she walked closer to him. The lights of the candles were drawing trembling shadows on her face. She smirked at him, and he swallowed hard. Melisandre kneeled before him and laid a hand on his face:

"My Lord, you have been chosen."

She turned around him, laying hands on his shoulders. Stannis looked up: they were in her room, the most strange room he's ever been. It was both dark and enlightened, both freezing and hot. When she touched him, he could feel how hot her hands was and, for a second, he almost suffocated. Ill at ease, he brutally stood up and turned to her.

"I don't have a choice. Davos has gone to negotiate this wedding."

"I know", she says, sitting on his chair. "And I've seen in the flames how all this is going to turn. My Lord, believe me, you are wrong. Follow my advices."

Stannis gritted his teeth and stared at her: 'follow my advice'. Everybody was telling him this stupid sentence, and of course, everybody had a different advice. He felt so lost, so alone. He couldn't show his weakness to Melisandre, or to Davos, or to anyone, not even his daughter. Sometimes, he just wished his life wasn't so hard, that decisions were easy to take. He wished his stupid little brother hasn't decided to fight him for the throne. But he couldn't change what happened. Robert was dead, Ned Stark was dead, Selyse was dead, Robb Stark was rebelling, a bastard was on the throne, a bastard bearing his name, an insult to all of the Baratheons. He turned around from her and closed his eyes for a second: he felt his head was going to explode. It was too hot here, he couldn't breathe anymore. A hand lied on his shoulder, another presented a cup at him. A voice said "Drink". Without even arguing, he took the cup and downed it. He immediately felt better and turned back to face Melisandre. She was looking at him, smiling.

"You are not strong enough, my Lord. Not yet", she added after he glared at her. "Let me help you..."

She undid the lace of her dress and, all of a sudden, she was naked in front of him. He stared at her and, as she raised her hand to touch him, he moved away with a swift movement of his head.

"Don't", he hissed.

As much as his marriage with Selyse was not successful, he had never cheated on her. And as long as he won't get married again, he will not touch another woman. Of course, Melisandre was beautiful, but Stannis was not easily seduced. His principles were stronger than his desire. Melisandre was not easily spurned, though. She smiled again and stroked his cheek. He grabbed her wrist, her skin so hot he thought for a second she had fever, and moved away.

"Lace up your dress, woman", he said, moving away from her.

The soft sound of the fabric and a sigh escaping her lips made him know she was obeying her. 'Good', he thought. He didn't want Melisandre to be another problem he had to deal with. He looked back at her room: different phials were put on wooden shelves. He didn't want to know what was inside them. He felt tired, suddenly. Maybe because of what he had drunken.

"Goodnight", he said, and she nodded and bowed.

He left her room and the sudden fresh air filling his lungs felt like a frozen bath. He gasped slightly, and realized he was sweating. The guards bowed before him as he walked back to his room to sleep. Servants were there. He told them to go, except one, and asked her to prepare a bath for him. 'Cold', he precise. He undressed, only keeping enough clothes to not be embarrassed in front of the servant. When the bath was ready, he sent her away. Alone, he got naked and got in the bath with a sigh of relief. His headache was slowly disappearing and he found himself thinking about the one who could be his wife soon. He was told she was beautiful, smart, a ray of sunshine in the darkness. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine her. But it was useless: all he could see was Renly dead, his army destroyed and him, Stannis, victorious. He didn't want that to happen, but he knew there were no other ways, unless Renly bent the knee and submitted to him. But Baratheons were stubborn, and Renly was following this ancestral tradition. Shall he live to kill his own brother, the last child of his beloved parents? Shall he live to be called brotherslayer, as Jaime Lannister was called Kingslayer? He never loved his brothers, it was not a secret to anyone living in Westeros and even in Essos, to be honest. But killing one of them was another story. He opened his eyes again: the bath had cooled him enough. He stood up, stepped over the bathtub, dried his body and put clothes on. He lied in his bed and closed his eyes, sighing. He fell asleep almost immediately.

In her room, Melisandre was staring at the dancing flames, a smile roving on her lips. The Lord of light was not disappointing her. He never was.