Game of Thrones: Holy Flame King

Melisandre wasn't wearing the red robe.

She wore nothing but the ruby ​​necklace at her throat, and sat cross-legged in front of the fireplace.

She was so close that the jumping fire kept touching the red witch's body.

But she will not be burned.

Flame is her master.

She closed her eyes and recited the prayer, but her tone was not as steady as before.

The flame seemed to be able to feel the witch's uneasiness, and it beat more and more violently.

Melisandre opened her eyes and stared at the flames. Golden and scarlet illusions flickered in the fire, outlining terrifying scenes.

The two copulating bodies rolled and scratched, and were swallowed by the flood of flames. The shadow was born from the flames and turned into a skeleton, staring at her with weeping bloody eyes without eyeballs...

Melisandre was trembling all over, and the smoking blood flowed from her eyes and ran down her cheeks, but turned into burning flames before dripping.

She felt death, felt anger—

wrath from the gods.

Anger at her shaken faith.

Melisandre had never been so lost, so terrified.

Is it because of the blasphemy of the prophesied prince?

She suddenly began to suspect that Samwell Caesar was really the prophesied prince?

"Great R'hllor," Melisandre prayed to the flames, "please tell your servant who is the prophesied prince, who is the reincarnation of Azor Ahai, and who is the one who will save the world." hero?"

The flames rolled and danced, and white mist gathered in it, and a face was formed in the fireplace——

It was indeed Samwell Caesar.

It's still him.

Melisandre watched Caesar's face growl and howl in the flames, and the blood on his face dripped like a melting candle, leaving only a skull, a blood-red skull.

The skull represents death. Melisandre thought.

Is this punishment from the true God?

Melisandre suddenly understood something, and her body began to tremble uncontrollably again.

An inexplicable sadness enveloped her, and the witch suddenly felt emotions she hadn't felt for a long time.

At this moment, she seemed to have returned to the day when she was sold to the Red Temple by her mother.

After countless years, she thought she had forgotten, but she still couldn't get rid of the entanglement of memory.

"Meryl..." She heard her mother calling again.

Like smoke, like fire, like hot air, it drilled into her mind.

Melisandre had never felt so weak.

Is it because of what Caesar said? or because...

Melisandre unconsciously stroked her raised belly.

Her body trembled even more, but her eyes regained their composure, and even contained an extremely rare tenderness.

thump thump——

There was a knock on the door.

Melisandre knew immediately that it was Samwell, she could smell him.

"Please come in."

Samwell pushed the door and entered, but saw the witch without a ray, and quickly looked away, saying:

"Is it not convenient for you?"

"It's okay. Come in." Melisandre said.

Samwell came in and closed the door.

The two had "meet each other honestly" a long time ago, so there was no need to hide it.

Just looking at Melisandre's belly that seemed to be seven or eight months old, Samwell still felt uncomfortable.

"I'm going back to Hewan early tomorrow morning, you... want to come with me?"

"Do you wish me to go with you?"

"Forget it, you should stay in Storm's End." Samwell didn't want Margaery to see Melisandre with her big belly.

As for quelling the rebellion, the shadow assassin probably won't be of much use.

He would rather use this assassination opportunity on a more important enemy, such as Duke Tywin.

"Okay." Melisandre nodded obediently.

There was a moment of silence in the room.

After a while, Samwell looked at the witch's belly again, and finally couldn't help but ask:

"Your belly... What will happen if I don't give you a new assassination target?"

"Don't bring death?" Melisandre had a rare gentle smile on her face, she rubbed her hands on Gao Long's lower abdomen, and said, "That should give birth to a life."

"Are you sure?" Samwell said strangely.

"Death and life are equal weights at both ends of the balance in the hands of the true god." Melisandre said, "They can be exchanged for each other. Since you refuse to bring death, you will usher in a life."

Samwell asked: "So, if I don't give a new assassination target, you will give me a child? A normal child?"

"Yes." Melisandre looked at the man seriously, "But, are you sure you want to waste such a precious opportunity to assassinate?"

Samwell was silent.

After a while, he nodded and said: "Life should not be a tool."

Although he actually had several people he wanted to kill, he couldn't name any of them at this moment, especially when he knew that a life could be conceived in a witch's belly.

Melisandre suddenly laughed.

With a smile like never before.

"I lied, Lord Caesar." This was the first time Melisandre spoke in such a teasing tone.

Samwell froze for a moment before saying, "So... what will happen?"

"Even if you don't give the assassination target after ten months, the shadow will be born, but if you lose the target, it can't do anything. It means that our efforts are in vain."

Samwell breathed a sigh of relief, it always felt weird to let Melisandre give birth to her illegitimate child.

But after knowing that this matter would not happen, he felt a little disappointed.

And he always felt that Melisandre was testing himself just now.

"Well, I hope there will be time when I come back from the Bend."

"It will be in time." Melisandre said in a firm tone.

Samwell stared into the witch's fiery eyes, always feeling that the other party seemed to foresee something.

Just when he was hesitant to ask, Melisandre spoke again:

"Master Caesar, you are right, life should not be a tool. So, if you want to save your brother, please tell him a word."

Samwell cheered up and asked quickly, "What are you talking about?"

"Remember who you are," Melisandre said.

As she said this, the ruby ​​in Melisandre's throat shone dazzlingly, as if it had become her third eye.

"Remember who you are?" Samwell repeated in confusion, "I just told Dickon this sentence?"

"Yes." Melisandre said.

Although Samwell doubted whether this sentence would be effective, he still nodded and wrote it down.

After a pause, he asked again, "Why did you help me?"

Melisandre smiled again: "Because I also believe that life should not be a tool."

Samwell felt that the red robe witch was also worried that she would become a tool of the Lord of Light?

In fact, Samwell has the same concern about his own fate.

The prince of prophecy, Azor Ahai is reincarnated...

But how did Yasuoer forge the burning red sword [Lightbringer] back then?

He cast it three times and failed all three times. The last time he inserted the scorching sword embryo into his wife's chest, he finally succeeded.

This story sounds very tragic, and people will feel sorry for the hero's sacrifice.

But Samwell tasted madness from it!

So as the prince in prophecy, Yazor Yahai is reincarnated, will he need to make the same crazy sacrifice in the future?

Samwell didn't want to be arranged a similar fate by the gods.

Thinking of this, he turned to ask:

"Did you foresee something in the flames again?"

"Yes." Melisandre said, "I saw the prophesied prince in the flames, Azor Ahai, reborn in the land of smoke and salt, bathed in blood and fire."

Isn't this the old prophecy before, why say it again?

Samwell shrugged inexplicably, and left.

"Remember who you are." Melisandre sat alone in front of the fire, closed her eyes again, and murmured,

"Remember who you are, Lord Caesar."

—————————

Across the Narrow Sea, Qarth.

"Make way! Make way for the Mother of Dragons!"

Ser Jorah Mormont yelled and drove the Qartheans who were watching.

Daenerys Targaryen felt like a clown on public display as she sat in the open carriage.

She was dressed in gorgeous green satin, with a black and white pearl belt around her waist, outlining a loomingly beautiful figure, her exquisite feet stepped on a pair of silver sandals, looking playful and lovely.

She was dressed up beautifully, and had an almost mortal face, but she still felt like a clown.

Or a beggar?

People here only pay attention to her three young dragons, but they ignore her request.

Daenerys came here following the guidance of the red comet. She thought she could find help here. She needed a big ship and soldiers to return to Westeros and take back the Iron Throne that should belong to her.

But unfortunately, there was no help she wanted here.

The royal family of Qarth regarded her as an afternoon entertainment, the people as a beautiful girl with pets, but no one regarded her as a queen.

Perhaps I should accept the wizard's invitation to visit their Temple of the Immortal...

There was a noise in her ears, which brought Daenerys back to her senses. She turned her head and saw a fire mage performing on the street.

He summoned a fire ladder out of thin air, and the swaying and circling orange-red flames swayed up.

The crowd cheered and jumped for joy.

But Daenerys noticed that a few thieves were pushing around in the crowd, swiftly cutting the clothes of the audience who were attracted by the fire mage.

At this time, the fire mage had already jumped onto the fire ladder, climbing up like a monkey. Whenever he climbed up a step, that step disappeared behind his feet, leaving only a wisp of silver smoke.

When the fire mage climbed to the top, both the person and the fire ladder disappeared without a trace.

The crowd cheered again, and the thieves returned with a rewarding experience.

"Nice trick," said Ser Jorah, who also saw that the fire mage and thieves were playing together.

"It's not a trick." A woman's voice suddenly sounded.

Only then did Daenerys notice that a woman with a red lacquered mask appeared beside the carriage at some point.

"What do you mean by that, madam?"

The woman wearing the red lacquer mask said: "Half a year ago, this person couldn't even use dragon crystals to make fire, so he could only use dust and silver shavings to play tricks with flames, at best attracting a few ignorant fools to watch, so that his fellow thieves would There is work to do.

But now he was able to perform witchcraft, real witchcraft.

His strength increased. Daenerys, it's all because of you. "

"Because of me?" Daenerys laughed. "How is that possible?"

The red-lacquered woman put her finger on Daenerys' wrist: "You are the Mother of Dragons, aren't you?"

"Of course she is." Ser Jorah pushed the woman's hand away. "Shadowbinders must not touch her!"

The woman in the mask took a step back and said again: "You must leave this city, Daenerys Targaryen, or you won't be able to leave."

"Where should I go?" Daenerys asked. Of course she wants to go back to Westeros, but without troops and ships, she can't.

"To go north, you must go south. To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward, you must go back. To reach the light, you must go through the shadows."

Asshai is known as the land of shadows. Daenerys thought. This woman wants me to go to Asshai.

"Will the Asshai give me an army?"

The masked woman shakes her head.

Daenerys was a little disappointed: "Then what can I get in Asshai?"

"The truth." The masked woman bowed and disappeared into the crowd.

Ser Jorah said disdainfully: "One would rather swallow a scorpion than believe the lies of the Shadowbinders. They dare not show their faces in the daylight."

Daenerys was silent.

The place where the fire mage performed before has been emptied, leaving only wisps of smoke floating in the air.

In a daze, the smoke turned into the face of the woman wearing the red lacquer mask just now. She stared at Daenerys with fiery red eyes, and said in a misty and deep voice:

"Remember who you are, Daenerys. The dragon knows, but do you?"