The Long Winter

Eleven - A long way north

The crashing waves on the wooden hull genltly rocked the boat from side to side, with a compelling rythm urging the whole crew to sleep. Even the captain struggled to keep his eyes open and focused on the still sea all around. Out in the open, under the night sky, Melissandre stood on the deck, with a heart so heavy she feared it could sink the boat. Yet another sleepless night she spent since she sailed for Volantis hoping that the eternal fire of the High Temple would give her a clearer a vision.

The Lord had granted her a vision the day Jon Snow had set sail on Dragonstone, one she had been seeing every time she'd walk past a torch or even a candle, one she had watched hundreds of times and one she couldn't begin to understand. It is true he spoke to her freely, the connection Melissandre had with the God of Light, no red priest had ever experienced. For that reason she was chosen to preach in Westeros, and lead the prince that was promised to victory in the long night so that all would prosper. At that she had failed miserably, by means of poorly interpreted signs she mistook poor Stannis Baratheon for the one and lured thousands to their graves. Indeed the Lord spoke to her with ease but from every vision he would show would rise twice as much questions. She remembered the words the High Priest spoke to her before he sent her away, « No matter how long fine weather reigns, eventually the winds of winter will blow away the spring, even the most beautiful of flowers will wilt, but the fire will burn bright and light up the night so you shall never know it's terrors. Rely on Rh'llor and seek his counsel always. Only he, beholds the answer. »
She used to believe she was blessed with the gift of sight and could not only see the visions but also the message hidden behind, she had learnt the hard way she was just like every other priest. In truth she could only see what he showed her. Him alone knew the true meaning of what he failed to explain.

With time working against her, and Volantis still half a world away, the uncertainty of what
awaited her at the finish had her going mad. She paced back and forth on the deck as a delicate breeze caressed her screwed face.
Ever since she had come into the service of the Red God, all the visions she had ever seen, she had only seen once. The power of this one had to be colossal for her to be able to see it time and again, the message it conveyed even mightier. For what she knew, it might hold the key to victory against the dead, hence the importance of unraveling this vision before it's too late.

She shut her eyes and played it in her mind for the thousands time, with hope that, maybe this time she would notice something she didn't, up to now.

« Tricky to sleep standing on a rocking boat milady, — » a voice came from behind her,     «—had my try at that, cost me some teeth and this right there, —» she turned around to a man standing on the stairs leading down to the cabins, he pointed to a purple and texture scar on his cheekbone that you could spot even in the dark of the night, « — don't want that on that pretty face of yours I'll tell ya' that much !» he giggled and drank up the ale out of an old metal mug then used his wrinkled sleeve to wipe his chin.
Melissandre's eyes stuck on him but she stared in the empty, a million thoughts raced through her mind as the weight of her responsabilities crashed her shoulders down.
The lad stood a couple feet away from her and didn't move a muscle, as a man of modest roots he had never seen a Lady this close, such women never stepped foot on his boat, where he spent most of his life. The peachy texture of her skin and the soft look of her hands amazed him upmost, yet it wasn't enough to pull his attention away from the line between her brows that began to form from the deep worry that had taken over her being. He had never envied the nobles, though they wore fancy clothing and slept wrapped in furry blankets they were never wealthy enough to buy their way out of their torments.
« Dont mean to be intrusive milady, » his voice pulled her back in the present again « but I see you up here all night since we sailed.. When something keeps me up I just whine about it, it helps, » he giggled and avoided her look that felt straight and persistant « and so does the ale!»
The light and graceful waves were the only thing to be heard in the calm of the night as he looked at Melissandre vividly while expecting her to say something. After a few moments he looked away, maybe she won't take advices from small folks, he told himselff.