Chapter Text
Many Years Ago
Melisandre of Asshai stood on the docks, scanning the crowd diligently looking for the face that the Lord of Light had shown to her. The girl, whoever she was, was important and she had to find her. She would not fail the Lord of Light, not in this.
She spotted her the moment she stepped from the ship, her clothing far too Westerosi to blend in, her hair, though mostly hidden was a bright, fiery red. Kissed by fire, Melisandre smiled to herself. The Lord of Light had shown Melisandre the girl many times, each time emphasizing that she would be Melisandre’s purpose in this world.
Moving to the girl’s side she smiled warmly, knowing she would be afraid, “My child” Melisandre began. “I am here to help.”
”I do not know you---”
”But I know you, Sansa of House Stark. You are a wolf far from home” Melisandre explained. “The Lord of Light has sent me here to help you.”
”Help me?”
”You have always felt it, my child” Melisandre continued, looking the younger woman in the eyes. “The draw to the fire, to the flames. You are kissed by fire in more ways than one” she paused.
”How did you know that?”
“I know many things, my darling. Come, I am here to protect you.”
”How do I know I can trust you?”
”Because the Lord of Light has sent me here to keep you alive” Melisandre replied simply.
Sansa stared into the flames, watching as they danced and moved. She had lived in Volantis for many years and had gone from a scared girl of ten and two to a powerful, feared Priestess of ten and nine. As promised, Melisandre had protected her, helped her to grow stronger and to realize what she was capable of.
She had never imagined, growing up with a mother so devoted to the Faith of the Seven, that such power could be attained. While Sansa had always been drawn to the flames, she did not know what she saw in them were visions.
Watching now, she could see him, the tall, handsome king she had seen since she was a girl. He stood over a table of maps, his jaw clenched and glare fixed on the army markers before him. Beside him stood another grey haired man, both of them talking, though she could not hear what they said.
Reaching out, she trailed her hands over the fire, touching his face and feeling the flames lick at her porcelain skin. They were warm but did not hurt her, instead she felt their embrace in her soul. The first time she had put her hand into the flames, Melisandre had watched with wide eyes as she proclaimed that Sansa was indeed ‘kissed by fire’ and truly blessed.
Blessed, Sansa frowned slightly. She had been a child when the Bolton’s betrayed her family at the Lannister’s command. Their men flooding into Winterfell to murder everyone in their path. Only Sansa and her sister Arya had made it outside the walls, running into the woods until their legs could no longer carry them and they collapsed.
When Sansa woke, Arya was gone and she was alone. She had cried for hours before picking herself up and making her way on her own. She knew she had to escape Westeros and something kept telling her that there would be a ship in White Harbor that could take her to Volantis. To safety.
Melisandre had been waiting for her, her soft voice soothing her and soon the Red Priestess had become more of a mother to her than her own had been.
She had learned not only about the Lord of Light but herself as well. While some of his Priests could weave glamours or see visions in the flames, Sansa was immune to fire. In contrast to Melisandre’s immunity to the cold, Sansa could walk through fire untouched. She could command the flame, conjure it to call upon visions. It had made her revered in the Red Temple, scaring some of the Priests around her.
But that did not stop her from mastering her gifts, practicing and becoming stronger every day.
Melisandre had taught her where her destiny lay and how to achieve it. Gone was Sansa Stark, but Sansa of Volantis, High Red Priestess of the Lord of Light was a force to be reckoned with.
”They’re beautiful, mother” she marvelled, watching the flames dance in the hearth.
”They’re dangerous,” her mother warned her. “Never touch them.”
”They will not harm me” the child scoffed with a smile. “They’re too beautiful.”
”They are dangerous Sansa” her mother warned.
”I see people dancing” she smiled as she watched the fire. “A handsome king and a beautiful queen.”
Her mother abruptly pulled her hair as she braided it, breaking her concentration, “They’re dangerous. Never trust the flames.”
”Alright” she sighed sadly, watching the dancing pair fade from her mind as the fire raged on in the hearth.
“Renly is dead” Stannis said sadly, tossing the scroll aside. “Sickness has run rampant in his camp.”
“His army will rally to your cause” Melisandre said simply, watching the flames in the fireplace with rapt focus. “It is time.”
“Time?” Stannis hissed.
“To call for her” the Red Priestess spoke softly.
“Who?”
“My Protégé” Melisandre replied.
“I have never heard of this Protégé” Stannis countered, his deep voice an angry barb.
“No one has, my king” Melisandre turned to face him. “I have kept her secret these years. The Lord of Light asked me to protect her and I served him well.”
“What a foolish notion” Stannis scoffed. “No one is a secret in this realm.”
“She escaped this realm, long ago” Melisandre shook her head. “You will see, my King. The Lord of Light shines through her.”
“Summon her then, this Protégé” Stannis looked to Ser Davos who looked equally skeptical.
“And the consequences?” Melisandre prompted. “There is always a price to pay.”
“Then we pay them” Stannis looked to the Painted Table. “The odds are against us, call upon your God of Fire but there will be no burnings.”
“No, my King” the Red Priestess nodded. “With her, we will not need them.”
”What do you see” Melisandre asked her softly. They stood in the courtyard of the Lord of Light’s Red Temple, both of them watching the large fire pit in the center. Other followers and lesser Priests occasionally stopped to watch them, eyes wide and afraid.
”I see a war with many kings” Sansa replied, watching the flames dance. “I see sickness, a dying Queen who bore no children. A true king without a throne---no, there it is” she paused, her cheeks burning as she watched what the flames showed her. Surely this intimacy was private..oh, she felt her body heat.
”I see it too” Melisandre whispered. “The Lord of Light sent me to you because you are important, my darling. So very integral to his purpose. You were born to be Queen and one day you will be.”
”I do not know how to be a Queen” Sansa admitted, reaching out to touch the fire. While her sleeve burned away she felt only warmth.
”The Lord of Light will guide you, my darling” Melisandre assured her watching raptly as Sansa’s porcelain hand danced in the fire.
Sansa stood on the bow of the great ship, watching the waters race by as she returned to Westeros for the first time in nearly a decade. Her deep burgundy cloak was pulled tightly around her, the hood covering her fiery hair. Behind her the men were hard at work, calling out orders and manning the sails emblazoned with a fiery stag. The fires of R’hllor burned around her King’s sigil, as they burned around her heart.
Melisandre had promised when she left nearly a year ago that she would send for Sansa when it was time, when the King was ready and while she trusted her guardian, she had not expected her summons so soon.
It was time, she looked to the palm of her hand, turning it back and forth to examine the pale flesh. Pulling the Valyrian steel dagger from her belt she cut the flesh along the lifeline of her palm and as the blood pooled it turned to white-hot flame, wrapping around her hand in a warm embrace.
In the depths she saw the king once more, the same scowling man she had seen her whole life. This time he stood with Melisandre, both of them watching her as she spoke, her words lost in the vision.
Closing her eyes briefly she refocused and there it was, the vision that had been revealed to her only a moon’s turn ago. The king was now naked beneath her as she rode him, mindless with pleasure. He watched her with unrestrained awe, deep midnight eyes nearly black with desire as his hands travelled her body, from her breasts to the swell of her stomach.
This man was her destiny, she knew. The Lord of Light had guided her out of Westeros and into Melisandre’s protection to save her and teach her what she needed to know to save this king. Her king. To save his crown. To give him sons.
Melisandre watched from the docks as the ship crested the horizon, her Daughter in Light was nearly here and soon everything would be in motion. Queen Selyse had taken ill last night as Sansa neared and the moment Sansa stepped to shore the Queen would take her last breath. A price, she had told King Stannis, one that had to be paid.
The visions in the flames had not faltered for years, growing only stronger, confirming that through Sansa the realm would have the Prince Who Was Promised, their savior and the Son of Light. Stannis would plant the seed and Sansa would give it life.
It has been Melisandre’s honor to protect, teach and empower Sansa, making her the daughter she would never have. The Lord of Light had trusted her and she would not fail him.
The dance of bright red hair, a fire of its own, came into view and she felt a smile form on her lips. Sansa had grown even more beautiful in the past year, the deep red of her dress and cloak suiting her perfectly.
The man who called himself ‘Storm’ helped Sansa to the shore and Melisandre took her hands, the warmth of Sansa’s skin chasing away the cold, “My darling.”
“I have missed you” Sansa said softly, bending down so that Melisandre could kiss her forehead.
“And I you” she replied.
“Come, it is time you met him.”
“I see him” Sansa said quietly, almost inaudibly over the din of the docks. “More than what we saw in the courtyard. He is inside me, pleasuring me and I am with child.”
“My darling” Melisandre squeezed her hand. “You were born to be Queen, to be his. Trust in the Lord of Light’s plan.”
“I do, yet such intimacies...I am afraid I will disappoint him” Sansa admitted. Bells began to ring overhead, the keep of Dragonstone bursting into life.
“The Queen is dead” Melisandre said simply. “It is time” she wrapped her arm around her Daughter in Light and they made their way to the castle.