"Sam, where are you taking me?"
"Shouldn't you have asked that question before you got on the horse?"
"If I had asked, I'm afraid I wouldn't have had the courage to get on at all."
Samwell laughed heartily. "I'm taking you to witness a miracle."
"A miracle?" Margaery hadn't expected this answer. She turned her head slightly to look at the man's profile.
But Samwell offered no further explanation. He merely urged his horse forward, heading toward the encampment of the Tarly troops at Eagle's Nest.
The afternoon sunlight was gentle, and the sky was brilliantly clear.
Just then, a red comet streaked across the sky, dragging its long tail like a wound bleeding across the heavens.
The unusual sight captivated everyone's gaze. None had ever seen a comet so dazzling, with such a disturbing blend of blood-red, flames, and sunset hues.
Margaery also noticed the celestial phenomenon, curiosity mixed with a hint of gravity in her tone.
"Sam, what is that?"
…
"It's the sword of the slaughter season," murmured Lord Leyton Hightower as he stood atop the Hightower in Oldtown, staring at the red comet in the sky.
After a long moment, he turned abruptly and addressed the aged maester beside him, who wore a chain of academic rings:
"Release the white ravens, and inform every lord of the Seven Kingdoms—
The Long Summer has ended."
…
"It's the banner the gods raise for House Lannister!" declared Kevan Lannister from the walls of Casterly Rock.
Tywin Lannister gazed at the red comet streaking across the sky, his face impassive.
But his heart was anything but calm.
Yes, scarlet is the color of House Lannister. This is an omen from the gods!
Tywin raised his whip, pointing toward the city of Sunspear.
"March!"
…
"It's a dragon," whispered the old nanny in Winterfell.
But young Bran Stark shook his head. "That's a comet, how could it be a dragon?"
The old woman, nearly blind, raised her nose and sniffed with certainty.
"It's a dragon. I can smell them. They've returned."
"Hodor." The towering Hodor squatted nearby, muttering his usual word.
It was all he ever said.
"Awoo—!" The direwolf crouched at their feet let out a long howl, as if mistaking the comet for the moon.
…
"It's the torch of the Night's Watch," remarked Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell, as he stood atop the Wall.
Tomorrow, he would journey beyond the Wall with Lord Commander Mormont, heading north into the Lands of Always Winter.
The red comet streaking across the sky gave him a sense of strength and comfort, as if it were a blessing from the gods upon the Night's Watch.
"Maester Aemon," Jon turned to the elderly maester beside him, "Do you have any final advice?"
The old maester, blind and curled up in his chair, remained silent for a moment before he finally spoke:
"Kill the boy inside you."
"What?" Jon looked puzzled.
"It's what I told my brother before I came to the Wall," the maester's voice was distant, "Kill the boy inside, and become a man. Only men can bear the weight of duty. Jon, you must do the same, because…"
The aged maester's clouded, sightless eyes fixed on the young man from Winterfell as he spoke the Stark words:
"Winter is coming."
…
"It's the soul of my child."
In the desert across the Narrow Sea, Daenerys Targaryen caressed her flat belly as she murmured.
Her son, the "Stallion Who Mounts the World," was dead.
Her love, her sun and stars, was dead.
Her brother, the sleeping dragon of House Targaryen, would never awaken again.
They were all gone. All of them.
The true blood of the dragon—she alone was its last heir.
Daenerys gazed at the funeral pyre before her, grief beyond words flooding her heart. Finally, she opened her arms and rushed into the flames.
She heard her knight's shout behind her, but it didn't matter anymore.
All that mattered was the fire.
It was so beautiful, so bright. Flames surrounded her, gently consuming her clothes, restoring her to the state in which she had first entered the world.
She took another step forward, and the juices of life flowed from her breast, dripping onto the three oval stones.
The fire blazed higher.
In that moment, she seemed to see her husband, her stallion, her child…
And in her ears rang the icy prophecy of the witch—
"Only death can pay for life."
…
"That is the blood of the stars," said Melisandre, the Red Priestess, in the Tarly encampment outside Godsgrace.
She raised her arms high toward the red comet, chanting fervently:
"After the Long Summer, the stars shall bleed! Cold darkness will shroud the world! In this dreadful hour, Azor Ahai shall be reborn, wielding the flaming sword, awakening dragons from stone, driving away darkness, bringing forth an endless summer!"
The priestess's frenzied demeanor frightened the soldiers around her, who pointed and whispered but dared not approach.
"Long is the night, full of perils! Bright is the day, full of life!" Melisandre continued to chant, "The war is coming! Black versus white, ice versus fire, sorrow versus joy, winter versus summer, justice versus evil, life or death! The true god's war has begun! Mortals, now you must choose!"
The ruby on her throat emitted a blinding glow, captivating all who looked upon her.
But even more arresting were her words, charged with a dark magic that seemed to resonate with the men's very souls:
"Bear witness, mortals! Choose your path! Azor Ahai has returned, favored by R'hllor! He is the messenger of light! He is the child of sacred flames! He is—"
Melisandre turned abruptly, her gaze alighting on the man who had just ridden up, and pointed directly at him.
"Samwell Caesar!"
Margaery, nestled in Samwell's arms, flinched slightly at the stares of so many soldiers.
Before she could fully understand what was happening, the man behind her answered her earlier question:
"That is blood and fire."
"Blood and fire?" Margaery looked up again at the red comet, still not fully grasping his meaning. "Or 'fire and blood'?"
"Fire and Blood" was the Targaryen house words, which, in the Common Tongue, was synonymous with blood and fire.
"You'll understand soon enough." Samwell dismounted and entered his tent.
A short while later, he reemerged, wearing his bronze armor and carrying an oval, milky-white stone.
"Clear out!" Samwell commanded the soldiers, "Whatever happens next, do not approach."
When the crowd had retreated to a safe distance, Samwell placed the dragon egg on the ground, drew his greatsword Dawn, and drove it down upon the egg.
A thunderous crack reverberated through the air.
…
"Fire!"
In the Tarly camp, Dickon Tarly suddenly sat upright in his coffin.
All he saw was fire—an inferno as vast as the sky, consuming everything.
Hell itself.
He was breathing heavily, his eyes filled with fear and confusion.
"Where am I…?"
"I thought I was dead…"
Fragments of memories flashed in his mind: hunting parties chasing beasts across hills, armies storming towering walls, a cavalry charge tearing through the sands, desperate faces in a burning sept…
And at the last, a blazing inferno engulfed everything.
In the flames, a face appeared, both familiar and foreign.
Confusion deepened in Dickon's gaze.
"Brother?"
…
Flames poured forth like a river, instantly igniting the ground around him.
The orange blaze whipped up fierce winds, setting the nearby banners flapping wildly.
The fire grew more intense, enveloping Samwell completely.
Margaery screamed and motioned for the soldiers to douse the flames, but Melisandre stopped her.
The Red Priestess murmured incantations in a language few understood, her eyes wild, her gestures filled with an eerie magnetism. The ruby at her throat pulsed as though it were dripping blood.
The flames wrapped around Samwell, consuming everything he wore until only his ancient bronze armor remained, shining cold and unyielding as though untouched by time.
Crack!
A sound like thunder rang out, as though the heavens themselves had split.
In the distance, Samwell thought he heard a roar, ancient and vast, as if from another realm or an age long past.
The flames surged and billowed like a storm, their embers rising toward the sky like a sword.
In that instant, the world seemed to hold its breath.
Everyone stared, awestruck, at this frozen tableau, with looks of reverence and fear.
As the flames faded, Samwell emerged.
He stood on the scorched earth and ashes, holding a burning red sword, wearing ancient bronze armor, with dense red and gold lines crawling along his arms and all over his face, making him look like he was wearing a mysterious mask.
But what really caught everyone's attention was the creature standing on his shoulder——
It is only the size of a kitten, but its entire body is covered with dense milky white scales. Two red-gold lines extend from the corners of its eyes across its back to the tip of its tail. Its pair of translucent wings look like smoke, enchanting and beautiful.
It opened its bright blood-red eyes and scanned the crowd, looking disdainful akin to that of a king.
"Dragon!" Margaret covered her mouth and screamed.
Although it was still very young, Margaery was sure that it was the dragon that had disappeared for hundreds of years!
They're back?!
House Targaryen had tried countless methods and paid countless price, but they still could never hatch a dragon egg. But now...
"How did he do it?" Margaret couldn't help but wonder.
But as soon as she said this, she seemed to have thought of the answer.
The man had just told her the answer.
The answer lies in the red comet that streaks across the sky, and in the giant sword that flows with the blood of the king and the scarlet flames.
"Blood and fire."
(End of Volume 2)
(End of this Chapter)
TL: What do you guys think so far?