Melisandre stood before the flames.
The flickering light reflected in her red eyes, bathing her entire figure in an ominous holy glow.
Stannis stood behind her like a silent stone statue.
His gaze remained fixed on the heart of the flames, trying to make out the enemy who had framed him.
The flames shifted in color.
From orange-red to scarlet, then to an eerie, sickly green.
Blurry images flashed and intertwined within the fire.
He saw the towering Red Keep in King's Landing, and the Iron Throne that belonged to House Baratheon.
Then he saw a figure.
A soft halo enveloped the figure, obscuring his face.
But he could sense that the man was young and full of vitality.
Countless rose petals drifted around the figure, forming a magnificent shower of flowers.
The people of King's Landing cheered.
They shouted a name, but the crackling flames muddled their voices.
Then a crown woven from golden roses slowly settled on the figure's head.
He turned. Before him stood not the Iron Throne Stannis knew, but a strangely shaped throne, and he sat upon it.
"It's him..."
Melisandre's voice rang out, carrying a dreamlike intoxication and the certainty of one who saw everything.
Stannis's heart clenched.
Roses?
The sigil of House Tyrell?
And that strange throne?
He had never seen such a peculiar chair.
Could it be that young, vibrant man who enjoyed House Tyrell's wholehearted support and the people's love...?
"Renly..."
"It was him!"
Stannis forced the name through clenched teeth.
It was Renly!
His younger brother!
The brother who had followed him around since childhood, whom he had once believed would never betray him!
"No... that's impossible!"
A trace of disbelief crept into Stannis's voice.
"Renly... why would he do this?"
"For the throne, my king."
Melisandre turned, her red