The Lindley family of Serpentwood City also had a history of several thousand years.
At the center of the sacred forest, the fish-beam tree was so thick it took several people to encircle it, standing tall like a pavilion canopy. Its bone-white trunk and blood-red, palm-shaped leaves spread over an area of more than ten meters.
At this moment, however, it looked like a gigantic crown of flames, hovering above Serpentwood City.
The men of the North and the nobles of the Vale rushed over in haste and fury. They had just opened their mouths to curse loudly when the words stuck in their throats and could no longer come out.
Their eyes widened, and the terror on their faces twisted beneath fire and shadow.
Brilliant, searing flames and pitch-black, icy shadowy tendrils cast light and darkness upon the fanatical Knights of the Fiery Faith, all of it writhing like living things.
The cracking sound of the dragon egg splitting was very faint. The roaring of burning firewood and the fish-beam tree was loud, yet everyone present heard it and was drawn to look.
Just as the crowd thought the dragon egg was about to hatch, the shadowy tendrils extending from the flames suddenly retracted. All that remained was the crackling pop of burning charcoal.
"Did it fail?" Er Lu asked softly.
"It failed," Aunt Mel nodded. Yet her heart-shaped face was glowing red, her crimson eyes flashing with excitement. Her waist-length red-copper hair danced in the heat of the bonfire like flames themselves.
"My perception was not wrong. The Long Night has arrived, the world has changed once more. The great Lord of Light has truly descended into the mortal realm, and His kingdom has never been closer to us!"
Melisandre was in tears, trembling with excitement. "The blood of kings among the Pentoshi was far from enough to draw the Lord of Light's gaze, but He heard our prayers and fervently responded to us."
Er Lu frowned. Indeed, this fire sacrifice had displayed divine signs of the Lord of Light more intense than any before.
He could even sense the red sword at his waist trembling softly.
But even with R'hllor exerting such force, the dragon still had not hatched.
"But we failed," he sighed.
"I told you long ago that the blood of kings in the Pentoshi is very thin."
Er Lu's gaunt face twisted as he said helplessly, "What a waste. We only had one dragon egg. It's too late for regrets now."
He had always felt that hatching a dragon through sacrifice was unreliable.
The reasoning was simple. Fossilized dragon eggs were rare, but not nonexistent in this world, and the priests of R'hllor were spread across the continent of Essos.
As for the blood of kings, it was far easier to obtain than a stone egg.
So why had no Red God temple ever been seen raising dragons over the past several thousand years?
Even though Melisandre had told him that the times had changed, that the red comet had made miracles possible, and that Daenerys had brought miracles back into the world.
The problem was that even before the red comet appeared, Aunt Mel had urged him to hatch a dragon. Was that not contradicting herself?
Moreover, several years had already passed since the red comet's arrival. Why had no Red God temple succeeded in hatching a dragon?
It was as unreasonable as a starving beggar desperately trying to sell passersby a divine technique for turning stones into gold.
But now, looking at the cracked stone egg, Er Lu truly regretted it. Melisandre might not be right every time, but she was right more often than she was wrong.
"There's still time!"
Just as he was filled with remorse, he heard Aunt Mel say in a low voice, "The fire is still burning, the ritual isn't over yet. Bring Aegon here, quickly."
Er Lu's pupils contracted as he asked in shock, "Are you sure it can continue?"
Aunt Mel nodded confidently. "It must be done quickly, or this dragon egg will truly be ruined."
The expression on Er Lu's face was like that of a pair of bitter lovers possessed by demons, shifting back and forth, dark one moment, resolute the next.
"The White Walker King is marching south, isn't he?" he asked softly.
Aunt Mel met Er Lu's gaze with firm eyes, then turned her head. Her crimson eyes glowed with an eerie red light, and an inexplicable pressure descended upon everyone who looked at her: Northerners, men of the Vale, and the enraged Lindley clansmen, the lords of Serpentwood City.
"The prophecy of Asshai is being fulfilled. The Long Night has arrived. Soon you will receive news from the Night's Watch of the changes beyond the Wall. The servants of the Cold God, the King of the White Walkers, are leading countless monsters southward.
"Only the reincarnation of Azor Ahai can save the world," she declared loudly.
Her voice seemed to carry a kind of magic. Everyone who heard her speak, everyone who saw the red light flashing in her eyes and the large, gleaming ruby at her throat, sensed an immense terror. It was terror conveyed by the Red Woman, yet it did not originate from her.
"What do you mean?" Greatjon suppressed the wild fear growing in his heart and shouted.
Er Lu did not hide behind the woman. Bearing responsibility, he stepped forward and stood before the Northerners and the men of the Vale. In a low voice, he said, "I am the savior foretold in the Asshai prophecy, or perhaps I am not.
"But whether I am the savior or not, the Long Night has arrived, the White Walkers are attacking, and my responsibility to the Seven Kingdoms and their people will not change.
"My strength alone is insufficient to deal with the White Walker King. I need dragons, and hatching dragons requires sacrifice."
"You're going to burn His Majesty Aegon to death?!" Meiji cried out in fury.
"You dare!" Greatjon's face twisted with rage as he drew his sword and pointed it at Er Lu. "Touch a single hair on his head and I'll split you alive."
Er Lu lowered his eyes and glanced at the cold blade three feet away, then nodded. "That's right. On the charge of confusing the royal bloodline and conspiring to usurp the Iron Throne, I hereby sentence the Pentoshi Aegon Mopatis to death by fire."
Mopatis was Illyrio's family name.
Serra was a bastard daughter of the Blackfyres, but she had formally married Illyrio. Therefore, Aegon's true surname was Mopatis, not Blackfyre, and certainly not Targaryen.
Just like Er Lu himself. His grandmother had been a legitimate Targaryen princess, yet he was a Baratheon, and no one called him "Targaryen."
When the words "the Pentoshi Aegon Mopatis" were spoken, the curses and clamor in the crowd diminished by seventy percent.
After all, Aegon's maternal grandfather had been a Blackfyre, but Aegon himself had his own surname and could not even be considered a man of the Seven Kingdoms.
Even the Targaryens of old were no exception.
The Targaryens "purchased" Dragonstone a thousand years in advance, a Valyrian outpost that belonged to House Targaryen. They brought with them era-defining advanced technologies and wealth rivaling that of nations. Only after painstakingly managing Dragonstone for a full century did they barely manage to integrate into Westeros.
That was how they obtained a "precious Westerosi household registration."
The First Men, the Andals, and the Rhoynar were themselves foreign invaders, yet they were extraordinarily xenophobic, much like a certain country today.
"He is a son-in-law of House Stark!" Lady Maege roared at Stannis. "Never think you can harm a Stark in front of the Northmen."
She turned back, her hard, aged face twisting into something demonic in the firelight. With eyes wide and teeth clenched, she shouted at the suddenly silent crowd on her side, "I say, no one can harm House Stark's son-in-law in front of us, am I right?"
"That's right!" Greatjon snapped back to his senses, threw back his head, and let out a long howl. "Whether he is a red dragon or a black dragon, whether he is a foreigner or not, he is Sansa Stark's lawful husband. No one may harm him!"
"To the death, we defend the honor of House Stark!" all the Northmen shouted in unison. Their momentum surged sky-high, even suppressing Aunt Mel's half-divine presence.
Stannis clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding audibly.
Cradling the dragon egg, Aunt Mel stepped forward with light, graceful steps. She approached sinuously and said softly, "How laughable. Even the Starks themselves do not consider him one of their own, yet you outsiders are getting worked up here."
Greatjon bellowed, "Witch, what are you saying?"
"Where have Jon Stark and Sansa Stark been these past few days?" Aunt Mel sneered.
"They…" Greatjon faltered.
Were they at the Eyrie, or had they returned to Winterfell?
No one had seen either of them for several days.
"Sansa Stark and Tyrion Lannister were once a lawful married couple as well," the smile on Aunt Mel's face deepened. "Do you think the humiliation Aegon brought her was any less than Tyrion's? Alas, poor girl. No matter what choice she made, I can understand it. You should understand it too."
"Impossible. That can't be. You're spreading vile lies!" Lady Maege's old face turned pale. The eyes that had once been firmer than bedrock were now filled with panic and doubt.
Greatjon opened his mouth wide, looking at Maege, then at Stannis, then at Aunt Mel, and finally turning to look at his companions around him. His mind was in utter chaos, and he desperately wanted an answer from them. What should I do?
But no one could tell him.
The crowd wore varied expressions. Some were uncertain and suspicious, some thoughtful, some absolutely convinced, some indifferent because it had nothing to do with them, some excited to watch the spectacle, some hesitant and sympathetic, some murmuring softly. Yet no one shouted any longer about dying for the honor of House Stark.
Just as the Red Woman had said, even the Starks themselves wanted to cast off Aegon, that "stain." Why were they getting anxious?
Stannis gave Godry Farring a look. The knight eagerly departed with four guards.
Some people saw them. Some did not.
Among those who saw them, some understood what they intended to do, yet still no one stopped them.
Moments later, a knight bearing the flaming heart led an open-topped sedan chair. Amid the clatter of armor and scabbards, they jogged through the godswood and arrived before the burning heart tree of the weirwood.
"King Aegon!" At a single glance, Maege could not help crying out in worry.
"Aegon!" Greatjon no longer called him "Your Grace," but concern was evident on his face.
The truth was that Aegon's condition was far too poor.
His once smooth, flowing silver hair was clumped and greasy. His full, rosy cheeks were pallid and sunken. His gradient violet eyes were dim, like extinguished embers. His tall frame was hunched into a miserable heap, curled on the couch as though trying to flee a cruel and merciless reality.
Hearing the calls of Maege, Greatjon, and the others, Aegon finally showed a trace of vitality.
"Where is Sansa? Where is she?" The dry voice carried boundless terror, and also boundless hope.
"Sansa… the queen… she isn't feeling well. She probably returned to Winterfell."
Maege did not dare meet the pair of eyes that were giving off their final glimmers of light amid the ashes. Her voice was weak and powerless.
The last light went out, and Aegon collapsed limply onto the couch.
"Hahaha. I said it long ago, and you still wouldn't believe it."
Godry Farring's eyes shone with excitement as he bent down and spat the most vicious words at the heart-dead Aegon. "Your mother was a Lysene courtesan. Your father was a nouveau-riche spice merchant.
Ask any knight here whether he would be willing to marry his daughter to the son of such people.
From now on, every time your name reaches Sansa Stark's ears, it will be like her being mounted in public by a noseless ugly dwarf.
That kind of humiliation is so great that the fact she did not kill herself already shows remarkable courage. What are you still fantasizing about?"
"Pff." Shamed and driven to utter despair, Aegon spat out a mouthful of blood and toppled from the couch onto the ground.
(End of chapter)
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