A Feast for Dragons

hearth. “With
your leave, Sire, I will show Lord Snow back to his chambers.”
    “Why? He knows the way.” Stannis waved them both away. “Do what
you will. Devan, food. Boiled eggs and lemon water.”
    After the warmth of the king’s solar, the turnpike stair
felt bone-chillingly cold. “Wind’s rising, m’lady,” the serjeant warned
Melisandre as he handed Jon back his weapons. “You might want a warmer cloak.”
    “I have my faith to warm me.” The red woman walked beside
Jon down the steps. “His Grace is growing fond of you.”
    “I can tell. He only threatened to behead me twice.”
    Melisandre laughed. “It is his silences you should fear, not
his words.” As they stepped out into the yard, the wind filled Jon’s cloak and
sent it flapping against her. The red priestess brushed the black wool aside
and slipped her arm through his. “It may be that you are not wrong about the
wildling king. I shall pray for the Lord of Light to send me guidance. When I
gaze into the flames, I can see through stone and earth, and find the truth
within men’s souls. I can speak to kings long dead and children not yet born,
and watch the years and seasons flicker past, until the end of days.”
    “Are your fires never wrong?”
    “Never … though we priests are mortal and
sometimes err, mistaking
this must come
for
this may
come
.”
    Jon could feel her heat, even through his wool and boiled
leather. The sight of them arm in arm was drawing curious looks.
They
will be whispering in the barracks tonight
. “If you can truly see the
morrow in your flames, tell me when and where the next wildling attack will
come.” He slipped his arm free.
    “R’hllor sends us what visions he will, but I shall seek for
this man Tormund in the flames.” Melisandre’s red lips curled into a smile. “I
have seen you in my fires, Jon Snow.”
    “Is that a threat, my lady? Do you mean to burn me too?”
    “You mistake my meaning.” She gave him a searching look. “I
fear that I make you uneasy, Lord Snow.”
    Jon did not deny it. “The Wall is no place for a woman.”
    “You are wrong. I have dreamed of your Wall, Jon Snow. Great
was the lore that raised it, and great the spells locked beneath its ice. We
walk beneath one of the hinges of the world.” Melisandre gazed up at it, her
breath a warm moist cloud in the air. “This is my place as it is yours, and
soon enough you may have grave need of me. Do not refuse my friendship, Jon. I
have seen you in the storm, hard-pressed, with enemies on every side. You have
so many enemies. Shall I tell you their names?”
    “I know their names.”
    “Do not be so certain.” The ruby at Melisandre’s throat
gleamed red. “It is not the foes who curse you to your face that you must fear,
but those who smile when you are looking and sharpen their knives when you turn
your back. You would do well to keep your wolf close beside you. Ice, I see,
and daggers in the dark. Blood frozen red and hard, and naked steel. It was
very cold.”
    “It is always cold on the Wall.”
    “You think so?”
    “I
know
so, my lady.”
    “Then you know nothing, Jon Snow,” she whispered.
    ----
    Cersei
    S he dreamt she sat the Iron Throne, high above
them all.
    The courtiers were brightly colored mice below. Great lords
and proud ladies knelt before her. Bold young knights laid their swords at her
feet and pleaded for her favors, and the queen smiled down at them. Until the
dwarf appeared as if from nowhere, pointing at her and howling with laughter.
The lords and ladies began to chuckle too, hiding their smiles behind their
hands. Only then did the queen realize she was naked.
    Horrified, she tried to cover herself with her hands. The
barbs and blades of the Iron Throne bit into her flesh as she crouched to hide
her shame. Blood ran red down her legs, as steel teeth gnawed at her buttocks.
When she tried to stand, her foot slipped through a gap in the twisted metal.
The more she struggled the more the throne engulfed her, tearing chunks of
flesh from her breasts and belly, slicing at her arms and legs until they were
slick and red, glistening.
    And all the while her brother capered below, laughing.
    His merriment still echoed in her ears when she felt a light
touch on her shoulder, and woke suddenly. For half a heartbeat the hand seemed
part of the nightmare, and Cersei cried out, but it was only Senelle. The
maid’s face was white and frightened.
    We are not alone, the queen realized.