Red Carpet Queens | Janelle Monae
Drabble for melisandreweek
“Tell me more, Lady Melisandre.”
So she did. She told Selyse about the night that never ends, about the savior born in salt and smoke, about the flame, the beautiful flame that dances and flickers and shows the future as it should be. (The future as it would be, if she served her lord, her one true god, well enough.)
“I have always known that my husband would be more than just the forgotten brother of a king. They scorn him, you know. They scorn him for nothing more than the sin of being who he is, for not being his charming, frivolous brothers, when in fact he is a hundred times the better man than they could ever be.”
“They scorn you too, my queen?”
“They laugh at us both. No one will be laughing at us ever again. No one.”
She knew, then. She recognized the hunger in this woman, the desperate yearning that was like a fire burning through her flesh; all-consuming, ever-present. Let the fire burn, my queen. Let it burn and purify your soul, firm your resolve, harden your heart, like it did mine, long ago.
What does it matter? What does it matter if Selyse’s faith is less in the Lord of Light and more in her lord husband and what is due him (and by extension, herself), what is owed them by the world that has made a cruel mockery of them both for far too long? What does it matter if Stannis’ notion of faith resembles a sulky, defiant child bargaining with a parent –two is not three; show me three, not two, and I might believe in your power then, and only then.
None of that truly matters. Her own faith is strong enough for all of them; strong enough to sustain them in this journey to save the world from darkness, from the cold, long night that never ends.
she wolf // shakira
Vampire Dad disapproves of his daughter’s feeding choices