After two nights of restless torment, Melisandre finally received the king's summons.
She had made meticulous preparations, resolved to help the prophesied prince recognize his sacred destiny and understand that the Lord of Light—the one true god—represented the ultimate salvation for all mankind.
The servants withdrew, closing the heavy oaken door behind them. She raised her gaze to find herself alone with the prince.
Joffrey sat with casual composure at his desk, reviewing a sheaf of parchments. "Priestess of the Lord of Light," he said without looking up, "what brings you to my presence?"
Melisandre lowered herself to the floor in supplication. "Your Grace, I have glimpsed you within the sacred flames. You are the prince that was promised, foretold in the ancient books of Asshai—Azor Ahai reborn, the chosen champion of R'hllor, the Lord of Light."
"All has been ordained by fate."
"He has bestowed divine power upon you to stand against the cold and the Great Other."
"Only the Lord of Light!"
"The Seven Gods may placate the ignorant masses, but they are not true deities. Only the Lord of Light and his adversaries possess genuine power in this world. You shall become R'hllor's divine emissary, the hero who delivers the world from darkness!"
Melisandre tempered her fervor, uncertain how much the prince truly comprehended about the Lord of Light's mysteries.
Joffrey set aside his reports, his emerald eyes fixing upon the prostrate priestess.
He could acknowledge that the Lord of Light represented a tangible force, and that his priests wielded authentic power. Yet he remained uncertain whether such power could be empirically observed.
"Melisandre, demonstrate your art for me—show me the divine power of the Lord of Light."
He produced a velvet pouch that clinked with metallic promise, emptying its contents upon the desk. Dozens of polished gemstones spilled forth, each one suffused with an intangible source energy.
"Perhaps these will assist your spellcraft."
Melisandre regarded the gems with scarcely concealed excitement. What magnificent treasures! Each stone brimmed with power that exceeded even the ruby that hung at her throat.
"Your Grace is most generous."
Joffrey grew more certain of his suspicion. Divine spells requiring source energy? This resembles magic more than miracle.
Could the Lord of Light be merely a more advanced practitioner of the arcane arts? Or perhaps an organization of such practitioners? How was the miracle of resurrection achieved? Did some form of magic exist that could accomplish such feats? Squire Melisandre began to chant in a language that bore no resemblance to any Joffrey recognized. Her steps grew nimble, her arms and body swaying with hypnotic rhythm. Her voluminous red robes fluttered as though caught in a phantom breeze, resembling dancing flames—fervent and passionate.
Joffrey observed in silence, perplexed despite himself. As a performance of song and dance, it held some modest interest. But could such theatrics truly constitute the foundation of spellcraft?
Melisandre had, in fact, greatly simplified her ritual.
In times past, when performing spells, she had cultivated an air of both effortless grace and impossible complexity, ensuring her image remained shrouded in mystery and power—all to better spread the gospel of the Lord of Light.
Yet her present audience was no ordinary man. He possessed knowledge of true power that perhaps exceeded her own understanding. Thus, she could only return to the ritual's essential core.
Without warning, flames erupted from her red robes.
She could not suppress a cry of exultation. Such magnificent fire, conjured without artifice—power gained through spell and gesture alone.
Joffrey's attention fixed upon Melisandre's necklace. In the precise moment when flames manifested, a sigil shimmered into existence near the ruby at her throat, channeling some unseen force into the priestess.
The sigil appeared both familiar and alien to him—reminiscent of a fire rune, yet more intricate in its composition.
He lowered his head in contemplation.
Melisandre's dance gradually ceased, her red robes entirely consumed by fire.
She approached with sensual grace, her breath soft against his skin. "Your Grace possesses immense power within. Allow me to serve you, and the shadow of life shall be born. It will aid you in fulfilling your great purpose."
Joffrey studied her face, yet what appeared before him was Daenerys's visage, framed by silver hair.
He perceived sigils resembling those of light and spirit.
"Shadow," Joffrey said with a smile. He wished to measure the energy this would exact from him.
"Daenerys, your Targaryen lineage has spawned countless sins. Today, you shall bear the weight of that legacy." Joffrey slowly unbuttoned his garments.
"No!" She fled around the chamber in apparent terror.
"Please, spare me. I have not flowered. Men will die for this transgression!"
Her performance intrigued him. "Release you? Even if the people of the Seven Kingdoms might consent to such mercy, my father's shade would never permit it. Lie down and accept your fate."
They circled the room in a strange dance, weaving between tables laden with arcane instruments.
"Brother, help me! Viserys, where are you? Do not abandon me!"
Daenerys struggled to shield her exposed form with slender arms, her voice tremulous with fear.
Joffrey responded with playful malice. "Viserys? My squire would never dare interfere. I have sent him far from here. Cry out all you wish."
"Even if he stood beyond that door, do you believe he would dare enter?"
Daenerys glared at him with sudden fury, then staggered as though overcome. The king pounced upon her instantly.
"No!" She struggled desperately, yet could not dislodge the weight that pinned her.
Joffrey laughed softly. "Accept your fate."
"Ah!" She tensed beneath him, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes as a desolate cry escaped her lips.
"Usurper! You—ah—you will not... will not escape... judgment!" Daenerys shook her head weakly, her cheeks flushed, her breathing growing increasingly shallow.
Joffrey lifted her onto the surface of his desk.
"Rail all you wish. The one true god, the Lord of Light, has chosen me as his instrument. Why should I fear your feeble curses?"
Melisandre finally heard the confirmation she sought.
"No!" came her anguished thought. "Lord of Light, why have you selected this vessel? Must the Great Other be opposed by him alone?"
Joffrey caressed her neck with gentle fingers. "Dany, you misinterpret my jests. The divine grace of the Lord of Light shall benefit all the world in the name of the gods. The Others and their servants shall face the combined might of all believers, even those who have not yet embraced the Lord of Light. The Others shall be vanquished!"
Melisandre frowned inwardly. Would the Lord of Light truly sanction such inclusivity?
Joffrey drove forward with greater force. "Think no more on such matters. Hear me, Dany. When the Others reveal themselves, and with proper guidance from the priests of the Lord of Light, conversion shall follow naturally. Then you shall comprehend what a profound honor it is to serve me."
Daenerys clutched the man tightly against her.
Whatever his understanding, so long as the prince himself acknowledges the truth.
She placed her teeth against the man's shoulder with deliberate care. When he offered no reaction, she bit down with sudden savagery. "That remains to be seen. For now, do not imagine I shall submit so readily to your will!"
The tooth marks on Joffrey's shoulder vanished instantly, revealing yet another manifestation of power to Melisandre's watchful eyes.
"Waste not your strength," he said. "The divine power of the Lord of Light shields me always. I must concede that I bear a sacred burden. Westeros shall become the kingdom of heaven made manifest upon the earth."
Melisandre resolved to summon more of her brethren to Westeros. This truly is the promised land.
Meanwhile, Joffrey found his reserves of both rune energy and magical energy sufficiently replenished. He attempted to meditate upon the sigil he had glimpsed within the flames.
Nothing happened.
Lord of Light, he wondered, what manner of being are you truly?
==============================================
Support me at [email protected]/goldengaruda and check out more chapter of this or more early access chapter of my other fanfic translation.
New fanfic : Marvel : The God Of Punishment System
=============================================