"If you wish, I can give you more." The red priestess lifted her hood and opened her robe, her voice carrying a trace of the Jade Sea.
She stood in a crimson glow, the great ruby at her throat, Melisandre's red eyes glimmering in the torchlight.
Before Gendry stood a fair, beautiful, tall, full body. Her red robe was half undone, her curves lovely, her posture graceful. Such temptation was not easily forgotten. Merely seeing such a beautiful woman was a pleasure in itself.
Still testing me with this? Gendry thought. Ser Barristan was standing guard outside, and within a few steps, steel would be faster.
A certain mood filled the air, one that called desire to mind. The red priestess had a bewitching beauty. She was beautiful to begin with, and perhaps magic played its part as well.
"You are handsome indeed. Tall, imposing, magnificent," the red priestess said, looking at Gendry. His short, tousled hair was thick and coal-black. "Is the hair on your chest and below the same? Coal-black as well? The Baratheons are descendants of the Storm. I admit I look forward to it. I can give you pleasures you have never known. Do not worry, I will not draw out your life-fire. This would only be the most primal joy."
"Lady Melisandre, put your clothes back on." Gendry looked at the red priestess calmly and used his scabbard to lift her garment back into place. His strength was extraordinary, and the touch of Orphan-Maker brought him calm. Valyrian steel carried some magic of its own, as if it could dispel enchantment. Gendry's long fingers brushed across Orphan-Maker's hilt.
"What does the fearless Storm fear? A naked woman?" The red priestess dressed herself. "I merely admire you. You are a man whose flame burns fiercely, the strongest flame I have ever encountered, from Asshai to Westeros."
"Thank you for the praise, my lady. I shall take your words as a compliment."
Melisandre placed her hand on Gendry's arm again. "The Lord of Light values chastity and punishes corruption."
"So what do you want me to sacrifice, my lady?" Gendry looked at the red priestess. Himself and his brothers and sisters, that king's blood? Or did she want him to burn the septs, the lovely sept on Dragonstone, the great godswood at Storm's End?
"Storm, let us not speak of that. Only death can pay for life. You have seen it already, have you not? Dragons hatched from death, from the life of the horselord, from the lives of Viserys and his wife and children. That is why you understand the power of magic better than others. You saw it with your own eyes."
"I am thinking about other paths." Gendry looked at the red priestess and spoke plainly. Some magic required faith in something beyond oneself, and the sacrifice of life, like the Lord of Light or the Drowned God. Other bloodline magic required digging into one's own power, as Durran Godsgrief had once done.
"Then I can only wish you success. The road you have chosen is full of difficulty." The red priestess looked at Gendry. "You have chosen the path of the self, not the path of piety. In that, you are the same as Stannis. Both of you are men of the self, cold machines of power. The ancient Valyrian Dragonlords once profaned the gods in the same way, scorned them, and pursued their own power, until destruction came."
"I need you in the battles to come, my lady," Gendry said to the red priestess. "You can serve as my shield against magic."
"Although you rejected my invitation, and I would have given you pleasure, in some respects my vision and yours are aligned. Compared with the great war that is coming, this struggle for King's Landing is no more than children's squabbling. Ancient alien gods beyond mortal naming are gathering their strength, Storm, Gendry, a terrible, evil, mighty power, almost impossible to resist. The cold wind has already begun to blow. Soon will come the Long Night that never ends." She leaned close to Gendry's ear. "Unless the righteous find their courage and spread the faith of the fiery heart."
"The coming battle is vital. Otherwise, hunger and death will destroy my kingdom," Gendry said.
"That is why there is no time to lose, Lord of the Storm. The sand in the hourglass runs faster now. Humanity has little time left. We must act boldly, or all hope will be lost. Westeros must unite beneath the only lawful king, the Prince That Was Promised," Melisandre said.
"Why did you come here from Asshai?" Gendry asked the red priestess.
"Westeros is the eye of the storm, the land of gods. It is the center where the powers of many gods entwine. The cold god and the Lord of Light struggle here without cease. Now the Longsword of Tears has appeared, the cold god has appeared, and the legendary Azor Ahai must draw the sword of light and save the world. That is why I crossed thousands upon thousands of miles, searching for the legendary savior. But I did not expect the Undecided One to appear." The red priestess's heart-shaped face looked flawless, her red eyes radiating power.
Gendry nodded. "The North, beyond the Wall." He could understand some of the red priestess's reasoning. No one knew how far the lands beyond the Wall truly stretched. Westeros's concentration of magic was indeed extraordinary. The Old Gods, the cold god, the Drowned God, and the Storm God had all shown signs. In ancient times, perhaps that was why the Valyrian Empire had stopped at Dragonstone. Otherwise, Westeros had excellent geography: the timber of the Stormlands, the fertile lands of the Reach, the Riverlands, and the Vale, and the gold of the Westerlands.
"My lady, I hope you understand that I only need the parts that benefit me," Gendry said to the red priestess. "Shape me into a great man, though I already am one."
"You truly are cold. In that, you do not seem like a boy of sixteen or seventeen at all. Young men are always lost in wine, glory, and women's breasts. But you restrain yourself," the red priestess laughed.
"Because I want more," Gendry said calmly. "I want to be the one and only, the supreme king, not the loyal servant of some god."
"Perhaps I will help you, my lord." The red priestess's hand passed over Gendry's strong chest, moving slowly down from his chest.
"Enough!" Gendry seized the red priestess's restless hand and felt heat there, as fierce as dragonfire. He began to squeeze. Bit by bit, inch by inch.
"You are hurting me, Storm. Let me see how far along your chosen path you have gone," the red priestess said. Gendry's strength pressed down little by little. At last, the red gem at her throat slowly began to glow. It was the power of magic, shielding her from that crushing force.
"And what about you, my lady? What did you pay to gain power?" Gendry asked the red priestess.
"Prayer. Devout prayer. Besides prayer, sacrifice. This road is not simple, but after the dragons hatched, my power grew stronger." The red priestess's face turned calm. "I have said too much. I ask to return and rest. You are a king like a rock."
Gendry nodded, and the red priestess turned to leave.
The red priestess's realm of thought seemed far loftier than his own. Hers was a grand vision, all for the destruction of the Others and the glory of R'hllor's faith. Though she was a fanatic of faith, she was indeed a rare talent. There was plenty of room for cooperation between them.
A moment later, Ser Barristan knocked and entered.
"She did not do anything to you, did she, Prince?" Ser Barristan asked urgently. A king taking a beautiful woman to bed was normal enough, but this woman carried the stink of magic, and that was another matter.
"No." Gendry shook his head. Once the red priestess left, her scent seemed to slowly fade as well.
The next day, the golden-cloaked knights and the troops from Sharp Point and Stonedance escorted Gendry and the others toward Haystack Hall and Bronzegate, where they would await the Stormlands vanguard.
But before Gendry met the vanguard, he first encountered an envoy from the Iron Bank of Braavos.
The Braavosi introduced himself as Noho Dimittis.
"How did you find this place?" Gendry asked him.
"For those of us who serve the Iron Bank, the difficulties we face are beyond your imagination, Prince."
"You should have gone to King's Landing," Gendry said.
"In fact, I have not yet done so, because the war is not entirely over."
"The late king has long been in his grave," Gendry said. "His gold."
"That gold should be repaid by the king's heir. Besides, I know you are not lacking in coin," Noho said.
"I am indeed not lacking in gold. I could raise that sum in Myr, in Tyrosh, or in the Vale. But if I do so, would I ever need to borrow from you again?" Gendry asked him.
"Then what is your meaning?"