The woman had control over him, she knew it and she seemed to enjoy it. The smile in her lips - not cruel nor sweet - made a shiver run down Jon’s spine. Her breath was like a summer he had never tasted, her skin like the caress of a wind he had never felt upon his face. What was it the woman saw in him? What was it that had made her lay her eyes upon him? Had it been only the design of her god or had her own curiosity something to do with it as well? He would have liked to be able to see with the red woman’s eyes. He would have liked to know what her faith was based on. He would have liked to believe in himself as the woman did, almost blindly… or did she see something he could not?
Her eyes, two not-so distant rubies continued to stare at him in the silence that overcame his last words, as if she found them amusing or as if she did not believe them. He had to be sincere about the fact the woman intrigued him… and her kiss had made the ashes in his heart burn again with a new fire. Was it simple lust, he wondered as his grey eyes got lost in the depth of hers. Again her soft hand caressed his rough cheek, marked by the cold and by the weapons of his enemies. He felt his eyes close for a moment, enjoying that touch, a taste of kindness in the middle of the Wall’s cold.
But before he could even realize it, the spell broke. ”You say you’re not afraid.. then prove it, Jon Snow” she said, and her hand moved from her cheek. She stepped slightly back and her hands moved to her back. His breath nearly left his lungs as the red dress fell to the woman’s feet. She was art herself, a wonder of nature, pale skin against red hair, like snow and blood, like fire and marble, a creature from a myth, too beautiful to be a mortal being. Jon stared away, trying to keep himself from looking, trying to resist the temptation…
She moved, as a shadow in the night, silently and gracefully, and she approached. Her whole body was warm, her skin’s touch was like a kiss itself. Every touch of her was a caress, every word that she said was like a blam that wanted to heal the wounds that his long stay in that cold place had opened. Why did the gods torture him like that?
“My lady…” he started saying, but the words drowned in his throat as if his mouth did not dare to pronounce them. His gaze was low, he did not dare to look at the red woman. His cheeks burned. His heart raced in his chest.
When he finally dared to look up at her and their eyes met again, Jon felt he lost the strength, the faith. He felt need. He felt the will to cling onto the hope the red woman offered him - a life where he would not have to be alone, never again.
He raised his hand and caressed her cheek with a softness he had never used when he had touched Ygritte, as if he feared she would break. “The darkness always reaches us, my lady…” he said as he released a sigh.
Whenever she was asked what she saw within her fires, Melisandre would answer, “Much and more,” but seeing was never as simple as those words suggested. It was an art, and like all arts it demanded mastery, discipline, study. Pain. That too. R’hllor spoke to his chosen ones through blessed fire, in a language of ash and cinder and twisting flame that only a god could truly grasp. Melisandre had practiced her art for years beyond count, and she had paid the price. There was no one, even in her order, who had her skill at seeing the secrets half-revealed and half-concealed within the sacred flames.
HERE TO YOU IS AN EXAMPLE OF PEOPLE THAT NOW NOTHING JUST LIKE JON SNOW :) AND THE WORST THING IS THAT THIS PERSON IS ITALIAN THEREFORE IT’S A BROTHER/SISTER OF MINE AND THEY ARE SAYING SUCH BULLSHIT!!!!!!!!!!!! UGH OKAY LOOK GIRL BOY WHOEVER YOU ARE TAKE THIS OFF BECAUSE 1. IT’S AN EDIT, AND YOU COMPLETELY RUINED IT BY ADDING A USELESS INSULT JUST BECAUSE U DON’T UNDERSTAND A CHARACTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DO NOT TAG UR STUPID HATE BECAUSE NO BODY FUCKING CARES!!!! I AM SO DONE WITH PEOPLE’S SHIT OKAY I’VE TAKEN TOO MUCH OF IT.
She seemed a red falcon surrounding her prey, Jon thought as she moved behind him, surrounding him. She had a falcon’s grace, the same strange, wild look in her eyes. He watched her, he listened her. He allowed himself to drown in the spell she seemed to be creating. Her hands touched his face, his lips, his hair, and for some reason he did not stop her. It was like if his body was no longer his. It did not respond to his orders, only to the woman’s voice. Her face was so close he could even feel her breath. She spoke about guidance, yet she confused him. She spoke about enlightning him and yet he felt he was falling into the darkest of the pits… Her hands were soft, her skin was warm against his once cold face. She was like a fire, and she wanted to warm his heart. Jon’s eyes moved away from hers, those two red orbs that seemed to stare at him so confident, as if she knew all the answers to his questions, as if she had nothing to fear. Was it her god what had given her such a peace, such a calm? Jon’s lips parted slightly but no sound came out of them. Suddenly it was as if every word he was to speak was meaningless in that moment. Nothing would be able to match the voice of the red priestess and the touch of her hands, nothing like her breath and the warmth of her body, so close to his. His heart was beating furiously. What was it that made it race like a herd of wild horses? Was it fear?
“You’re not alone, Jon Snow” she said, and a shiver ran down his spine. He wasn’t alone… How could she know that was his greatest fear? To be alone. To die alone… had she felt like that once, maybe before she discovered her lord of light? The question never reached his lips. But something else did: one moment the red priestess was staring at him, the other her lips were on his, kissing him softly, only a short peck that left the Lord Commander breathless. Her lips were just as warm as her hands, as warm as the fire that was burning in the fireplace. The contact of her lips burned and made things that he though he had forgotten come back to his mind, things that he had tired to burry deep down in his heart. There was another kiss when her lips sepparated from his for a short moment. She pulled him closer, her hands upon his clothes and he could feel this time her body against his. Warmth, warmth, warmth… she was all warmth. She was fire, and her lips were so. She tasted like the wine they had drunk before, like the lands kissed by the summer. She tasted of something he had never tasted before. It was not the wild taste of Ygritte’s lips, no. He realized he had closed his eyes for a moment. How long had it been since he had been with Ygritte for the last time?
When she pulled slightly away, he opened his eyes, surprise oozing from them, but still did not move. Are you afraid, she asked, and truth was he did not know what he was feeling. His hand reached for her cheek. “I should not… We should not…” he said, nearly mumbling the words. Like if he had never touched a woman before. Like if he was afraid of breaking her like a dream vanishes when the sun raises. Was he dreaming? Was it all a vision? He saw the red priestess and he no longer saw an enemy in her. What if she was right? What if she was there to guide him, to help him?
“I am not afraid” he added, at last.
She smiled. It was a proud smile, because she had finally made it, and Jon’s words only confirmed it. At first, she was afraid he would either faint right in front of her, since he was breathless for a moment, and even though it seemed very sweet to her, she was indeed worried about him for a moment. But it was just the way the Lord Commander was - he seemed like a cold man, that would never give his feelings away, he simply wouldn’t dare to do such a thing, and everytime Melisandre would lay her eyes upon him the only thing she could think of was an ice barrier standing before her, much similar to the one standing behind him. But that was exactly why Jon intrigued her so much, he wore such a thick invisible armor, but when she took it off she found only softness, a pure, beautiful softness that showed once again how he was Azhor Ahai reborn, he had the stuff of heroes, it was so plain to see, yet he himself wouldn’t notice it. But she did. And she knew he was her destiny, as she was his. She wouldn’t let go of him, not when she had gotten this far. He is my only hope.
Melisandre never let Jon out of her sight, she kept looking at him, and she couldn’t hide the sweetness from her eyes. Again she raised her hand to cup his cheek, and she started speaking with soft words. “Can’t you see, Lord Snow? Us meeting, it was all meant to be. R’hllor made this happen, for you are his hero of light and life, and I am meant to be your guide, to help you when your path is obscured. As I have told you many times before, there is such a fire within you, and it burns so fiercely, my lord, I could feel it when I looked at you for the first time, and even more when I laid my lips against yours. You say you’re not afraid.. then prove it, Jon Snow.” This time she backed away, slowly stepping away from him. She put her hands on her back, and she started pulling at the laces on her dress. Her expression was calm, as she finished unlacing, and the crimson robe she was wearing fell to the floor, leaving her naked. Melisandre then stood still, putting a hand on her hip. “You know, sometimes I am so afraid of the darkness, of the night, I wish i could never asleep, for it is in that moment that the Other could come and take me away, and claim my soul. I always need fire, to feel safe, to feel protected. That’s how I feel when I am with you, Lord Snow. I feel that when I am with you, the creatures of the Other are at bay, and that the darkness cannot reach us.” The priestess got closer to him, putting her hands on his shoulders. “You are freezing ice on the outside, and burning fire on the inside. You still have so much to learn, but you will have me. You’re not afraid of me anymore, you said so yourself. So let the light into your life. Let yourself become mine, and me become yours. We are two pieces, and together we can make a whole.”
She was so close to him, and against her bare skin she could feel the roughness of her clothes, and his heart beating fast in his chest. Now, it was up to the Lord Commander, whether to stay or run away, but Melisandre had a feeling of what he would do.
She promised him everything. She had always promised him everything, everything for someone that had never been nothing but a bastard of the north. He had once dreamed he maybe would have the chance to become someone when he grew older… but those had been the dreams of a child. The more time went by, the more he realized how different he was from his brothers. He was not a Stark. He had no right to dream of glorious battles, of rides in a dragon, of conquests and of honor. He had been born out of his father’s sin… his existence had been a mistake, something that was not supposed to be. Something unexpected. Something hateful. Jon had renounced to dream… And there she had come, telling him he was meant for greatness, telling him that his dreams - the dreams of that child he though was dead - would come true. Telling him he was a messenger of a strange god. Telling him, whispering into his ear that he had every right to dream, for those dreams would be a reality in a future. And though a part of him did not want to trust her another part did, and with all his soul, all of it. He wanted to believe he was more than a bastard, more than just the Lord Commander of the Wall, a slave of the Seven Kingdoms, damned to serve them until the end of his days. What Melisandre had brought him was the memory of a dream, a dream that he had burried deep inside his chest. And yet, he resisted. And yet he wanted to remain true to those vows he had pronounced before the old gods, those vows he had once broken so easily in order to accomplish the task the Halfhand had commanded him. And yet, he told himself that Melisandre words would lead him to the darkness. “I have been in the darkness all this time” he thought. “I am no longer afraid of it”
Yet, he feared loneliness. He feared death. He did not want to die alone.
Lost in his thoughts, he saw her raise from her chair, in all her grace, in all her beauty. She was a shadow of fire and redness, an image that seemed to have scaped of a masterpiece someone had once painted. He wondered why the gods made such beautiful things, and yet they they commanded their servants not to look at them, not to touch them. Were they testing him? Hadn’t they had enough with him? Sometimes, he felt like they had abandoned him, like they abandoned his father. Was the priestess right about her god? Was it the only true one? Jon did not want to think about it. When she mentioned Ygritte, he could feel his heart skip a beat. Ygritte… The fire remind him of her. The priestess, with her red hair, reminded him of her. Kissed by fire… He tried to hold Melisandre’s red gaze, hidding the pain, hidding the emptiness that had taken over his heart when he had lost her. She had not been meant to be a part of his life… Yes, she was right. She was a wildling, and he was a brother of the Night’s Watch, a man with the heart of a crow. He knew it was impossible, he had known it from the very beginning… Yet, he had choosen to love her. And now, he wanted to choose not to love ever again.
However, he watched her approach, slowly but unstoppable. He did not want her near, he did not want her to approach… and however, he wanted her to approach. Her hands rested on his shoulders and he could feel himself shiver in the middle of the warm room. Her voice was sweet as a mother’s, as deadly as poison. It invited him to follow the path she was walking through. It invited him to join her. His eyes stared at the empty chair where she had once sat, but now she was right behind him, so close to him, touching him… He could feel the warmth of her hands on his clothes. He could feel her breath close to him. He could nearly see her smiling as he stood there, smiling at how much of a child he should look like. Her fingers brushed against his cheek. Another shiver. He bit the inside of his cheek, and his jaw clenched. She sure would notice that… He moved his head away slightly, as if she burned, as if she was fire and he was ice, melting under her touch. “I would like to trust you, my lady…” he said, and his voice sounded broken, slightly rough, as if he was trying to defend himself. He closed his eyes for a moment. “… I am confused” he finally uttered, nearly whispering.
Melisandre did not move, and she kept caressing Jon’s face with her soft and slender fingers, and she could see that he was tense. There was confusion in his eyes, that much she could tell, but she had predicted this. Slowly, she circled the chair before taking his hand, and pulling him up to his feet. “It’s alright”, she whispered. “You don’t have to look so afraid, Lord Snow. You are a man, and not just any man. I am a woman, and not just any woman. Together, we can be a whole. All your life, you have had a missing piece. What could possibly be missing, you’re wondering? It is the light. You need the light in your life, to guide your path, to bring you to your destiny, to your future, to your fate, which you cannot run away from. Tonight, let me be your light.” Her hand was touching his face once more, first the lips, lightly, then his cheek, then to his black curls. He was nervous, very, but she was used to it. All men were nervous when they had to deal with a woman like her, so Melisandre had grown accustomed to it. And she enjoyed every minute of it.
"You’re not alone, Jon Snow." She told him with a cooing voice. "You’re not alone.", she repeated one last time, for that was something she wanted him to remember always. He had R’hllor’s guidance, and hers. No man could ever be luckier than to have that. Her guidance might help him a little, for she could help him interpret the Lord of Light’s signs, but in the end it was her god that would help the young man in all of his adventures. "Let the light into your life, and you shall know no darkness." Melisandre’s voice was so soft, she wanted to soothe Jon in every way possible, to make all of his troubles go away, the ones he’d had since he was a child, since he had entered this world as someone to be discarded, a bastard, no one. But he was just so much more than that. He was to become a champion, an endless number of songs would be written about him, stories would be told over the years. All men would die eventually, yet his legend would live on forever. It was more than anyone could ever hope for. But there was a reason, if her Lord had chosen him. This she did not know yet, but she would ask R’hllor to give her answers when looking at the flames. Right now though, she was busy.
The red priestess got closer to Jon, and their faces were only inches apart. She thought she could almost hear his heart beating, as fast a drum. The boy was still stiff as ice, she had to do something to make him relax, to make him feel safe, to make him trust her. Trust must be earned, she remembered him saying. That was exactly what she was planning to do. Melisandre reached in to plant a kiss on Jon’s lips, and she could taste the spiciness of the wine they had before. Before he could reply or move or react in any way, she kissed him again, pulling him closer to her, her body against his. This was a slower kiss, where ice and fire met in one. She finally opened her eyes to look at him, to see what he would say to her, whether he would pull away or not. He won’t. I know he won’t. "Are you afraid, Jon Snow?", she inquired, staring into his eyes, and into his soul.
He stared at her as she spoke about that land of hers, a land he had never been to, a land he had only heard to be mentioned. A land that, probably, he would never get to see. “I wanted to see the world… But now I am bounded here. Without scape” he thought, and his eyes seemed to fill with a strange sadness. He hoped she would not get ackoglwedged of this. However, he lowered his gaze slightly. The description she made of Asshai was fascinating him. It was a misterious place, just like she was a misterious woman… Where she could have come from but that land, where shadow and fire joined in Jon’s mind to create a vision that well could have come out from a fairy tale book. “Maybe we could go together, if the time is right” she said, but that just made Jon lower his eyes even more. There would no right time for him to visit the lands across the Narrow Sea. There would be no chance for him to see something that was not that Wall, those trees, those old stones. He was meant to die there, and be buried there. “Or rise again here, back from the seven hells” he reminded himself. That was another possibility.
However, he said none of this. He smiply remined silent and pensive, as if he was trying to think about how he should reply to her, but coherent thoughts would not form in his mind. He should not have accepted her invitation. He should have left. He would be doing what he was meant to be doing in that very moment. The morning would have caught him sitting in his chair before his table, his head lying on his hand, half asleep. But it was too late for that all.
“My men say many things about you. I myself have heard many things about you… My coldness and my uncanny behavior were only preventive measures, my lady. I have never willed to speak with you because you are told to be terribly clever… And I did not want you to fool me. I have people to watch for. Things that I care higher than about myself. For what is a man only to the world we live in?” he explained, keeping his gaze just as low as it had been all time, but however he could not keep himself from staring into her red eyes. It was like a spell she had casted on him. “Who says she has not?” he thought. “You have too high expectations about me, lady Melisandre” he added after this pause. “I am only one more man in this world of ours”
Suddenly there was a change in her voice tone as he stared up at her, trying to hold her red gaze. It bacame teasy of some sorts and grew teasier and teasier, and so did the words she spoke. If he had been Jon Snow, the boy who had left Winterfell, he sure would have blushed, but for some reason, and though he could feel some kind of heat reach his cheeks, he did not fluster at the woman’s words. However, his eyes widened slightly with surprise as he looked away once more. Anywhere but at her face, her beautiful face. “Can’t a man just stare at a woman as one stares at an equal?” he asked, his grey eyes lost in the woodgrains as if they were a little sea. “You are beautiful indeed, my lady. But I am a brother of the Night’s Watch. I no longer stare at women the way you suggest I do. I have forgotten how to do that”
And this time, he raised his eyes to stare at her. She was like a vision that had been brought to him by the wine, a vision of fire. It was like if in that woman he could see a ghost. He bit the inside of his cheek. “Ygritte…” he thought. His mouth opened but no sound came out of it.
Melisandre watched him, and a smile formed on her lips. The way Jon would look away from her really amused her, it was as if he was afraid he’d go blind if he even placed a glance upon her. But she did not mind, the more she got to know the young man, the more she liked him. And the more she liked him, the more she wanted to know. It already seemed a huge achievement, getting him to have a drink with her, to actually talk with her for more than just a few words, and she was glad that she had almost convinced him of who he really was, and on who he was about to become. “A man is nothing to the world we live in, yes. But you are everything, Jon Snow. You are our savior, our hero of light, you will save us, that is what you fail to understand. I realize it is hard, to accept your fate, it always is. But one day you will see, and you must face your destiny. Some are born to have mild lives, others are born for greatness. As in your case. You will do things no one else has ever done. No one since Azhor, the man of all the legends. If you say it is something you don’t want, you’d just be lying, both to me and to yourself. But the Lord of Light and myself see through your words, we see through your heart. And one day you will do everything you have wished to do since you were a child. The dreams you thought impossible will finally come true. And you won’t be alone.”
Melisandre always felt as she was reaching out to Jon, begging for him to take her hand, to let her lead him in the path he had to walk. Yet there was still a barrier between them, made of thick hard ice, which her fire was slowly melting, making it thinner and thinner, but it was still there. When will you open your heart to me, Jon Snow?, she thought. When? In her mind she asked him this question, yet his eyes gave her no answer. One day, he would. Just like Stannis had. She decided to stop the talk of prophesies, it was too much to bear, all at once. So Melisandre went back to small talk. “But of course, stare all you like. I didn’t say I minded. It was just some advice. I am flattered by your looks, wildling women might not feel that same way. Even though one did, am I right? I do not know her name, but I know she was important to you. But she was not meant to be part of your life.” That might hurt him, she realized, but it was the truth, and sometimes the truth hurts. “I am.”, she whispered, looking into his eyes, those grey, impenetrable eyes.
"You are a brother of the Night’s Watch indeed, my lord, and I would believe your words, but your eyes betray you, I am afraid. But please, you are a man, it is normal for you to give such looks. You shouldn’t be ashamed, and I myself enjoy it." She smiled wickedly at him, having more fun than she should have. But that’s how it was with Jon Snow. She stood up, getting closer to him and the chair he was sitting in. Melisandre placed her hand on his shoulder, and he looked confused. "We are alike, you and I. We both have power, different types of it, and perhaps you have greater skills than I ever will. I am not Azhor, after all. But we have the power that is given to us by R’hllor himself. We both have fire inside of us, and fire is light, it is life. And we have power to make life." Her fingertips brushed Jon’s cheek, and never had she seen his face grow so warm. It had always been so cold, she recalled. Each day he spends with me, the more he becomes who he is meant to be. “You’ll have to trust me, Jon Snow. I might be the only one you can trust in.”
I pray for a glimpse of Azor Ahai, and R’hllor shows me only Snow.
Jorah shifted uneasily under the woman’s penetrating stare. “Daenerys lives. Robert Baratheon did not succeed in his extermination no matter how hard he tried. She has dragons. Three of them. Living, breathing dragons. I bore witness to their birth. So what I speak is true. Even if you don’t believe me. As for why, ” Jorah ground his teeth, “I am no longer with her. I would rather not discuss it. The subject only serves to make me angry and despondent at the same time.” He had considered returning to her and he felt he would at some time. He just was not sure of what kind of reception he would receive, if any at all. “I will say, you are a true priestess of the fire god. With all your spouting off about him being the “one true” god. A bunch of nonsense if you ask me. All you do is stare into fires and chant and burn innocent souls for your sacrifices. And the world keeps moving along. I do not see much of this fire god’s hand in it. Or any god for that matter.”
Melisandre had to admit she was quite surprised, she hadn’t thought the rumors were true. But this dragon queen was no concern of hers, she had never seen her in her fires, and as far as she knew the knight might be lying too. She could ask her Lord the following night whether what he was saying was true or false, but she had more important matters at hand. Though she couldn’t deny her curiosity. “The fact that she has three dragons or thirty doesn’t worry me at all. Stannis Baratheon is the rightful king of Westeros, he is Azhor Ahai reborn, the hero that saved this world once from eternal darkness. Not even your little queen can withstand him, I am afraid. You speak very highly of her, yet where is she now, Ser Jorah? Not by your side, it seems. Maybe you weren’t so important to her as you thought you were.” The man loved the queen, that much was obvious, even to a fool’s eyes. “I would never want to make you angry, ser. We can speak of another subject, if you wish. She is a foolish woman if she let you go, true knights are hard to find nowadays. “
What he said after made her smile. Of course she was a true priestess of R’hllor, nobody could match the love she bore for her god. She had given herself to him, body and soul, offered him her whole life, and meant to do everything she could in his name. ”I say that because he is the one true god, and I will repeat it until I can speak no more. Nonsense? You call it nonsense, you who pray to a tree. I’m sure you have prayed many times, to go back home, to go back to your queen, to have your honor back. Did you ever get these things you wished for, good ser? I think not. These ‘gods’ you worship did not hear you, that is because they do not exist. We stare into fires, and in these fires we see truth. We see life. We see the future that awaits us. Wouldn’t you want that? I have seen things before they even happened. It is one of the best gifts I have ever received, truth be told. We don’t burn innocent souls, we give sacrifices that must be made for R’hllor to cast his light upon us. And it is funny coming from you, a knight, who must have killed thousands with that sword you keep close. The reason this world exists is because someone made it. Someone is looking at us, deciding our fates. The Lord of Light is that someone, whether you like it or not, Ser Jorah. One day you’ll realize, at least that is my hope. Otherwise it might be too late.”