The Red Keep

The Red Keep.  She had spent many a day here, spending hours passing from one circle of the peerage to the next while her lord husband busied himself with the running of the realm.  The corridors had seemed cold then, distant.  They were akin to the servants, incapable of emotion, of evoking anything beyond a pale imitation of presence.  And she had been forced to make their acquaintance, noble and servant, stone and flesh.

But not now.  Now the corridors blossomed with holy flame, sanctified by the Red Woman, Melisandre of Divine R'hllor.  Now she was the queen, and now they listened to her, noble and knight, servant and stone.  They listened, and they obeyed.

The woman who had become a queen could feel the weight of her crown lessen as the priestess made her presence known.  It had been a long time in coming, her right to walk these halls as matriarch.  A right that would have been denied her had Lady Melisandre not come to them in their hour of need.  Her hour.  Men spoke of the easterner as being the weapon of Stannis, the whispered words that guide his hand to rid the realm of traitors.  But she had raised Lady Selyse just as high, seen fit to place the lady of Brightwater at the heart of the Great War coming.  The trust that was being placed on her shoulders, a weight that no ordinary soul, no matter their noble lineage, could hold aloft, was immense indeed.  Renly, that upjumped cur, would not have managed the weight.  Joffrey, that upstart Robb, not even Tywin with his mountain of gold.  Only she.  Only Stannis.  Together they were to lead the Seven Kingdoms into a future of darkness, their lights combined all that stood between civilisation and the end of everything.

"The heathens no matter their number, no matter how thick their walls, cannot escape the justice of the flames."  The woman's voice was raised as if at the pyres.  She often fell into such a state with such discussions.  She deemed it queenly.  "We give blessings that more will see the truth in the holy fires."

The reference to the Red Temple brought a pout to the frail woman's features.  It had not lost her attention that her lord husband's fervour to the cause had indeed sagged with their victory for the city.  If the years passed were of any guidance, then it was that they could not slacken.  Not in defeat, when the enemy crowded in their thousands.  In victory, with those swords laid before them in service?  Then was the time to force the red silk about their hearts, that they may blossomed into righteous flame, a litany for R'hllor.

"I will do, my lady.  It will do me good to see so many of the truly faithful together in their adoration of the true god."  Full of the faithful.  That gave the queen a thought.  "But I wonder of the faithful beyond the city walls.  How many now, good souls that might bask in the light of our lord are instead forced to kneel before false idols?"  Scorn dug itself into her face at the thought.  Who would not wish to see the flames?  "It might be time to broach the subject of bringing the truth to the lords of the Seven Kingdoms.  That we bind the nobility to Azor Ahai, and bring their knights into holy service as defenders of the one true god."

The woman who claimed to be queen hung onto the words, as if in concentration they would be etched onto her mind forever more. They were true words, spoken with such, power. It had truly been a gift when the Red Woman made her presence known all those years ago, when the world seemed so dark. She had been promised the world when joy and love had been denied her, and the truth therein. It seemed that such a measure was close in hand. "He shall see the wisdom in such a measure," Selyse agreed, as if already forgetting that it had been her own notion, and not that of the Priestess's. Or perhaps it always had been. "I shall do my duty to our lord. The darkness will not be allowed to win as long as Azor Ahai sits the throne." And the heathens will accept His Will. She let the threat slumber in her subconscious, though the thought of the glorious power that was the holy fires was a strong one.

The summons reached the queen as she studied the holdfast grounds from her solar, beady eyes reading into the thoughts of those who would call her queen. But they renounce the true god, her own thoughts spoke, as if in mockery. What good was she to the realm if she did not serve in the capacity required of her? They will be made to see the true in holy fire, she promised the silent room. Her attendants were wont to make themselves scarce when Selyse got into this mood, such that the courtier seemed to enter an empty room.

"Why do you disturb me?" were her words to the poor messenger, sour in their haughtiness. However the news was welcome indeed. This was a sign, surely. Her husband the king was not one to call upon her attendence for nothing.

"Your Grace," was her announcement of the queen's arrival, as if their union was much less than that of husband and wife, king and queen. "You have called upon my presence?"

The queen accepted her husband's words in much the same way that she would had he been complaining of a poor fare for his breakfast.  That was if the king was a man used to complaining of something as beneath him as a cold meal.  She only frowned, just as she frowned whenever it came to issues that did not revolve around the continuation of their holy duty.  "Shireen as Lady of Storm's End will be no small thing.  You remember that those lords have proven themselves false already too many times.  Even the faith of Seaworth and Morrigan will be hard pressed to ensure that the lords remain subdued."

She did not seem overly concerned for the child.  Her child.  The girl was not someone that inspired much pride in the queen, a lingering reminder of the life that should have been hers.  As such, the queen's fear did not truly stem from the safety of the princess, but from what damage could be wrought due to her weak influence over the lords of the realm.

"The realm is full of traitors, my king.  Though the lord of light has deemed it that their swords were laid before you, the bastard Waters has shown that those same swords may in time serve the dark."  Her voice, high and haughty and evergrating on the ears of those unfortunate enough to stand close, had reached something of a crescendo.  "Your place is here, ensuring that we are ready for when the final war is upon us."  She raised her face, as if such a thing made her look regal.  "Mine should be to make a procession through the realm.  It will serve the lords well to see justice return to their lands after the tyranny of Lannister.  I shall oversee betrothals and settle disputes, and those lords who dared raise their swords for pretenders will be reminded of their new loyalties."