Chapter 136: The Dornish Envoy and Melisandre's Past
Stormlands, Estermont, Greenstone
Upon the turbulent waters of the Narrow Sea, a massive Swan Ship slowly advanced toward Estermont.
The golden sun pierced by a spear—the sigil of House Martell of Dorne—fluttered proudly amid the raging winds, so brilliant that even the storm clouds above seemed dim in comparison.
At that moment, inside one of Greenstone's towers, Jon and Jeyne Arryn simultaneously withdrew from their Skinchanging state. After exchanging a glance, Jon spoke first.
"This fellow is rather interesting. Is he trying to demonstrate House Martell's words—Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken?"
Jeyne Arryn shot him a strange look before replying in a teasing tone.
"Perhaps he simply can't wait any longer! After all, in his eyes, you are indirectly responsible for the deaths of his sister, nephew, and niece. Maybe he's in his cabin sharpening a spear right now, preparing to stab you through the chest the moment he arrives."
Hearing that, Jon chuckled lightly and shook his head.
"That was the business of the father I never met. It has nothing to do with me. Whoever he wants to stab is his own affair, but he'd better not provoke me. Otherwise, I'll turn him into a dead viper on the spot."
"You aren't worried the Dornish will rise against you?"
Jeyne Arryn smiled as she asked the question.
"Dorne?"
A trace of ridicule appeared on Jon's face.
"The Dorne of today is no longer the Dorne of old. Prince Doran Martell has managed it too carefully. Modern Dorne is like a venomous snake with its fangs removed—it looks frightening, but in reality, it has little killing power left. Besides…"
Jon's lips curled slightly upward.
"Do you really think a snake can contend with a dragon?"
"Hehehe… Why didn't I realize before that you were this arrogant?"
Curiosity flickered across Jeyne Arryn's face.
"It's not arrogance," Jon replied calmly. "It's just that the enemies I must face are on an entirely different level from these people. The Night King and the Demon King are both terrifying existences. At least the Night King leaves traces behind. That Demon King, however, is a complete mystery. Other than knowing it originated from my Magic Stone, I know almost nothing about it."
At the mention of the Night King and the Demon King, the teasing expression faded from Jeyne Arryn's face.
"By the way," Jon suddenly asked, "how is Melisandre now? What state is she currently in?"
"Her original name was Shiera Meraxes, and she is a descendant of House Meraxes."
"Meraxes?"
Jon was stunned.
"Isn't Meraxes the name of one of Aegon's dragons?"
"Meraxes, Vhagar, and Balerion were not merely dragons," Jeyne Arryn explained. "They were originally the names of the Valyrian Triad Gods. At the same time, they were also the names of the three strongest Dragonlord bloodlines among the Fourteen Flames."
Hearing that, Jon immediately asked:
"So your family is merely a branch of House Balerion?"
"Yes."
A nostalgic look appeared in Jeyne Arryn's eyes.
"In the earliest days, there were only three great clans. As Valyria expanded, forty Dragonlord families eventually emerged, and the number of dragons surpassed three hundred."
There was unmistakable pride in her voice. The glory of ancient Valyria still lived vividly within her memories.
"Because of war and the curse of greyscale, Melisandre's bloodline was nearly exterminated. To preserve her family's legacy, she traveled to Westeros and became the lover of one of your ancestors."
"Afterward, she used an incomplete Blood Magic ritual to fuse her soul and resurrect herself."
A trace of admiration crossed Jeyne Arryn's face.
"Unfortunately, her strength was too weak at the time. After reviving, her soul remained muddled and unstable. By the time she fully awakened, she discovered she was already pregnant."
As she spoke, a rare trace of sympathy appeared in Jeyne Arryn's eyes.
To her, Melisandre resembled herself in many ways—both women burdened with the weight of preserving their bloodlines.
"It's a pity," Jeyne continued softly, "that by then she had already contracted a severe plague. Her body had suffered irreversible damage. Eventually, she departed Westeros and journeyed to the Shadow Lands of Asshai, hoping to find a way to survive."
"Then how did she become what she is now?"
Jon immediately asked the most important question.
"The Lord of Light is dead."
"What?!"
Jon froze instantly.
The revelation hit him like a thunderbolt.
"The war between Light and Darkness—between Ice and Fire—has never ceased," Jeyne explained. "Every few thousand years, they clash across worlds before falling back into slumber."
"Each time they awaken, they lose fragments of their power… and even their names change, as though they no longer remember who they truly were."
"Did you already know this," Jon asked slowly, "or did Melisandre tell you?"
"She learned it in Asshai."
Jeyne paused before continuing.
"And according to her, this is the final battle. Only by completely defeating the greatest god of cold can this world be saved."
"So what do you think this prophecy really means?"
Jon found this increasingly difficult to comprehend.
The world he remembered from the television series had already spiraled far beyond recognition. That version of events now seemed laughably shallow compared to the reality before him.
This world was real.
And since the System had changed everything, Jon no longer dared to rely on old assumptions.
"I'm not certain," Jeyne admitted. "Faith in the Lord of Light already existed in my era. In fact, I probably understand their doctrines better than modern Red Priests do."
"But now the entire religion revolves around searching for a savior. I strongly suspect this is merely a scheme for the gods to descend into the mortal world."
"Descend into the mortal world?"
Jon immediately thought of a certain smiling younger brother.
"It's difficult to say for certain," Jeyne said with a sigh. "I once fought an avatar of the Black Goat. The influence these entities exert upon the physical world is becoming stronger and stronger."
"Don't think about it too much for now," she added. "We don't even possess true dragons yet. We can only move forward one step at a time."
"Just as Dragonlord Caesar Balerion once said: As long as we are powerful enough, even gods will kneel at our feet."
Jeyne herself had long pondered these mysteries.
That was one reason she had explored Sothoryos in the past—she sought the truth of the world.
Despite countless myths and legends, none truly explained how the world itself had come into being.
That was why the Dragonlords of Valyria considered themselves equal to gods.
"You're right," Jon said with a sigh. "Even if we learned the truth now, it wouldn't solve our immediate problems."
Every time Jon believed he was nearing the truth, reality became even more incomprehensible.
There were rumors that the original creator of this world had intended it to possess Lovecraftian elements.
Jon had no idea whether that rumor was true.
But one thing was certain:
Now that he possessed this power, he would never allow himself to become prey—or a puppet—for some incomprehensible god.
His fate would always remain in his own hands.
"So," Jon suddenly asked, "what are your plans for Melisandre now?"
Jeyne Arryn turned and looked at him strangely.
"You… what exactly do you mean by that?"
Jon felt slightly uncomfortable beneath her gaze.
"She possesses many secrets and powerful forms of magic. Naturally, she should join our side."
A faint smile appeared on Jeyne's lips.
"Besides, her body has been reconstructed. Perhaps in the future, she might even contribute to the continuation of your bloodline."
As those words were spoken, the image of a scantily clad red-haired beauty flashed through Jon's mind.
Before learning the terrifying truth behind her appearance, he had indeed found Melisandre extremely attractive.
"Forget it… we'll discuss that later."
"Hehehe, I knew you'd be tempted."
Jeyne laughed mischievously.
"Sarella even said Melisandre has an excellent figure."
Jon's brief moment of distraction had not escaped her notice.
"You're going to be corrupted by her sooner or later!"
Jon's face reddened instantly as he blurted out his response.
Knock, knock, knock…
Just as Jeyne was about to continue teasing him, a knock sounded at the study door.
"Come in."
The door creaked open, and an armored Chainbreaker warrior stepped inside.
"Lord Aegon, the Dornish envoy has arrived. Stannis Baratheon hopes you can arrange a three-way meeting as soon as possible."
"Very well."
Jon nodded calmly.
"Tell him that after the welcoming banquet, we will convene together in the Great Hall of Greenstone."
After receiving his orders, the warrior bowed respectfully and withdrew.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you like the story please give it some power stones and reviews. And if you want to read 40+ advance chapters or just want to support me please join my patreon at [email protected]/Translatingfanfics