In King's Landing, within The Red Keep.
Joffrey Baratheon lay on a velvet bed, cold sweat beading on his forehead. He tossed and turned, his brows furrowed as if an unforeseeable scene was unfolding in his dream.
In the dream, a tall figure stood in the pitch-black, endless night.
He seemed to be thinking, deep in contemplation.
For some reason, Joffrey Baratheon could clearly hear the inner voice of that "he" in the dream.
He was searching for an answer: how to gather the wishes of heaven and earth.
After bowing his head in thought, he suddenly realized.
He understood that what was missing was a vessel. The wishes of heaven and earth needed a vessel, and he would use his own heart as that vessel!
He laughed up at the sky, having made his decision. "Then let me take a gamble! Then let me become a god!"
A longsword swung up, and he endured the excruciating pain as he carved out his own beating heart from his body. This heart was large and vibrant, and the blood flowing from it actually began to turn golden.
"I have a pearl, long locked away by dust and toil. Now the dust is gone, the light emerges, illuminating all the mountains and rivers!"
His red robes fluttered, gold silk flying. The blood-stained longsword in his hand began to tremble violently, igniting with the fire of hope.
As the flames ignited, a shimmering phantom of a woman slowly appeared in the darkness. He knew this was the Lady of Light's final mercy to humanity.
His gaze was like a torch, and the moment his heart was taken out, it turned into flames and merged into this world. His body also burned with an enduring, raging inferno, like the great sun, illuminating the ages.
He held the longsword high, and surging flames shot into the sky, piercing the long night.
At this moment, the lights of ten thousand homes gathered toward him. Though each light was as small as a firefly, when they gathered together, they could change the world!
This was the power of wishes, the great vow issued by all the people of the world in their despair! Radiance filled the sky, and dawn reappeared.
The next moment, his soul was revealed.
His body turned to ashes and drifted away with the wind.
He chanted in his mouth—
"Originally a carefree immortal from another world, yet descended to the human realm like floating dust. Heroes vie for the deer, chaotic times emerge; donning golden armor, I head to the front lines. The storm annihilates, returning to a sigh; through a thousand trials, the heart remains firm. One day the stars fall and the winds change; burning rivers and boiling seas, shaking the sun's edge. Raising glasses and exchanging cups, beauty is radiant; the bright moon falls, stars plummet into the abyss. The universe is clear, all evils disperse; ten thousand nations come to pay homage, crowning the emperor. winter is coming, the long night is endless; gods and demons are lawless, war smoke rises. All living beings shed tears, gathering the people's wishes; the fire of rage spreads, changing the world!"
The long-silent sun descended upon the world once more, and all living things revived between heaven and earth.
From this moment on, he was the god in the hearts of all people!
From this moment on, the history of Westeros, the history of the Dothraki, the history of Essos, the history of Yi Ti, and the history of Asshai would all have to record his name: rhllor, the red god!
He would be the first person in recorded human history to achieve godhood with a mortal body!
But as a third-party observer, Joffrey Baratheon saw that behind rhllor's bright and majestic figure, a pitch-black man with a lion's head and human body was slowly merging into his shadow.
The images in his mind ended here, and Joffrey Baratheon slowly woke up from the illusion.
Joffrey closed his eyes, taking a long while to digest this massive amount of information.
"Who is he?" Joffrey asked.
But rhllor, the red god, who had always told him everything, did not answer him directly this time.
The rhllor in his mind first let out a long sigh, then spoke in a somewhat vague manner, as if Joffrey should not have known at this time.
rhllor replied:
"He is light, and he is darkness. He is the flame, and he is the shadow. He is the Lady of Light, and he is the Night Lion."
"Then who am I?" Joffrey continued to ask.
Joffrey would not give up; he was not satisfied with this general answer from rhllor. He always felt that he had a deeper connection with the figure in his dream.
rhllor was silent for a long while, then said somewhat helplessly: "You are light, you are the flame, and you are the Lady of Light."
"Then... what about my shadow?"
After Joffrey asked this question, rhllor fell silent and did not speak again.
...
At The Wall, in Castle Black.
The dream was fragmented and messy, but Maester Aemon could vaguely distinguish the appearances of two people.
They were Aegon Targaryen and Aemon Targaryen.
"Brother, the journey north is difficult, please take care on your way. No matter where we are, I believe our friendship will become even firmer."
"Yes, Your Grace. No matter where we are, our brotherhood will be forever engraved in my heart; I will always love you deeply."
"I look forward to the day we meet again, my brother!"
"Your Grace, my brother. Remember: Kill the boy within, and become a true man."
A great fire burned his dream away. The last scene Aemon saw was a young man with silver hair and purple eyes holding a newborn child.
The man said: "Let's call him Aegon. He is the prince in the Targaryen prophecy, and his song is the song of ice and fire..."
Maester Aemon woke up from the dream with a start, and after a while, he sat up. He panted heavily, and when he raised his head, he happened to see the huge floor-to-ceiling mirror opposite his bed.
He looked at his own white-haired, elderly reflection in the mirror, closed his eyes, and said slowly: "Egg..."
...
Heavy snow fell from the sky, as if the whole world was covered by soft, white snowflakes.
The buildings in Castle Black were piled with thick snow, as if dressed in white.
The arrival of the heavy snow made the entire Wall quiet and peaceful. The footsteps of the passing Nights Watch became soft, and one could almost hear the sound of snowflakes landing gently.
The many weirwood trees on both sides of the road were also covered by the heavy snow, their branches hung with white snowflakes. The oil lamps with white hats shone brightly under the reflection of the snow.
The clouds in the sky were blocked by snowflakes, appearing to merge with the earth, looking vast and magnificent.
Jon Snow had just walked out of the room of the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch, Jeor Mormont. His expression was extremely complex.
He could see that the Lord Commander Jeor Mormont had high expectations for him, and treated him as kindly as if he were a nephew.
The brothers of the Nights Watch were indeed very good to him; Grenn, Pypar, Toad, and the others were all willing to risk beheading to chase him down when he fled.
He could not forget the words this group of people said to him:
"Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death.
I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children.
I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post.
I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on The Walls.
I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men.
I pledge my life and honor to the Nights Watch, for this night and all the nights to come."
"You either kill us, or come back with us."
Jon could not forget the way Samwell Tarly stood in the dilapidated stable, braving the cold wind and looking forward expectantly when they rushed back at night.
Jon Snow wiped away the crystal-clear tears from the corners of his eyes and sniffed.
His mind kept recalling the serious yet loving face of his father, Eddard Stark. Unfortunately, he would never see the owner of that face again; the farewell before he left that day had become the final parting between father and son.
Ghost, at his feet, seemed to sense Jon's sadness and got up to rub against his leg.
"If it weren't for you, I might have been home by now," Jon Snow scolded.
When he had already escaped to Mole's Town, if it weren't for Ghost suddenly running out and startling his horse, Grenn, Pypar, and the others would never have found him.
Ghost felt extremely wronged, rubbing against Jon's leg and whimpering at him.
"Sigh, forget it."
Jon Snow was also helpless. He didn't know if Winterfell would open its gates to him if he returned.
He did not know if what he would face was the embrace of his family or the executioner's blade for a deserter.
Jon Snow crouched down, touched Ghost's head, and sighed: "At least you can still stay with me."
"Jon, Maester Aemon is calling for you."
Samwell Tarly walked out of the room. He was wrapped up tightly, exhaling white gas while speaking.
...
Maester Aemon of Castle Black had long since entered old age, but his ears were still sharp, and his eyes were still bright.
He sat on a recliner, and Jon Snow squatted on the ground, listening to his teachings.
Maester Aemon's wrinkled hands gripped Jon Snow's young and tender hands tightly. The temperature between their hands was transmitted to the heart, warming the hearts of both.
Jon Snow had never felt such warmth. What was this feeling? Jon wondered; he had only felt this kind of feeling from his father, Eddard Stark.
But this feeling was even closer and warmer than the relationship between father and son. This was a feeling of blood flowing together; this was the same source of blood and fire.
Maester Aemon spoke, and Jon Snow listened, the old man and the young man as close as a grandfather and grandson.
"Jon, thank you for listening so seriously to this old man's rambling memories."
After hearing Maester Aemon's memories, Jon Snow couldn't help but widen his eyes.
He remembered the stories Old Nan had told him at Winterfell when he was a child: Aemon Targaryen had given up the throne that should have been his, letting his brother Aegon Targaryen take the iron throne.
Later, in order not to be used by conspirators, Aemon Targaryen chose to take the black and go to The Wall to become a glorious member of the Nights Watch.
"Maester Aemon, you are..."
Jon Snow asked in disbelief, because according to time, Aemon Targaryen must be a hundred years old this year.
"Maester Aemon, you... you are Aemon Targaryen!"
"Yes, my name is Aemon Targaryen. My father was Maekar Targaryen I, and my brother was Aegon Targaryen V."
"When my family was slaughtered, I also thought about going back. However, I had long since sworn to give myself to this Wall; compared to the Targaryens, the Nights Watch here are my true family."
The firewood in the fireplace crackled, and Maester Aemon asked Jon Snow.
"Jon, I heard that there are two lonely Targaryens, a man and a woman, across the Narrow Sea."
"Maester Aemon, you forgot, there is only one girl left now."
"Yes, only one left. It is very dangerous for a single Targaryen to live in this world."
Aemon Targaryen held Jon Snow's face, which had strong Stark family features, with both hands, eyes meeting eyes.
Maester Aemon instructed earnestly: "Jon, the dragon has three heads..."
"The dragon has three heads... The dragon has three heads. Unfortunately, I am already too old to be one of them. I should be with her, guiding her."
"You are different, Jon. You are ice, and you are fire. You are a wolf, and you are a dragon. You will be a part of them."
"Jon, winter is coming. Kill the boy within, and become a true man."
After speaking, Maester Aemon lay back on the recliner and fell into a deep sleep.
Leaving Jon Snow alone, dazed and confused.