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  »Storm's End.

Samwell and Melisandre stand in front of the fireplace hand in hand.

The fire was raging, and bits of ashes flew up, danced in the air, circled around, and finally merged into Samwell's palm.

The big ruby ​​in Melisandre's throat drank from the flickering fire in the fireplace, becoming more and more alluring and bright red.

She suddenly reached out and wiped the gemstone, and then quickly pressed it on Samwell's palm.

The pale flame suddenly churned, and then quickly extinguished.

Samwell felt a burning pain in his palm, and when he looked down, he saw that the silver petals had regained their brightness.

"Why didn't they all recover?" he asked.

Melisandre sighed:

"This is the limit of what I can do at the moment. You are too deeply entangled with the elemental sea, and it is already difficult to completely isolate yourself."

Samwell rubbed the mark on his palm and asked:

"Then what will happen if the last two petals also wither?"

"I don't know." Melisandre said, "You also have a certain grasp of witchcraft now. If you don't have the protection of this seal, you may be able to withstand the invasion of the sea of ​​elements, but it is also possible..."

"Assimilated by the sea of ​​elements?"

"Yes."

Samwell was silent for a moment, then asked again:

"Then how should I try to avoid consuming the sealing power?"

"Use as little spiritual power as possible." Melisandre said, "If I'm not wrong, you must have used sorcery power during your trip to Slaver's Bay this time, right?"

"That's right, but at that time there was no other way." Samwell sighed helplessly, and then recounted the nagging things he encountered in Slaver's Bay.

Melisandre listened quietly, without saying a word.

"How much do you know about the Ghiscari gods?" After the lecture, Samwell asked again, "And what is their purpose? And why did I meet Nissa Nissa in the illusion of ruins?"

"Relevant records of the Ghiscari gods have long been destroyed under the flames of the dragon along with the ancient Ghis Empire. Although Slaver Bay still believes in them, the inheritance has been broken, even if the Temple of the Holy Grace The saints also know very little about the gods they believe in."

After a pause, Melisandre seemed to hesitate, but continued:

"As for Nissa Nissa, I think your suspicion is correct. Daenerys Targaryen is very likely to be Nissa's reincarnation, so she should bear the fate of being sacrificed."

"I don't believe in fate." Samwell said lightly, "It's just a self-righteous arrangement by a group of guys who call themselves gods, but I refuse to accept any arrangement."

Melisandre's eyes softened, and she said:

"I believe you are in control of your own destiny. And the destiny of humanity."

Samwell became embarrassed when he heard the words:

"The fate of mankind is too grand. I can't control it. I can only save as many people as I can."

"Then you have to hurry." Melisandre turned her head and stared at the flames jumping in the fireplace, "The sand in the hourglass is passing by quickly, the footsteps of winter are approaching, despair and terror will descend on the Great Wall, you must Get ready as soon as possible."

"I know." Samwell glanced at the flame and asked, "Does the flame tell you how long winter will come?"

Melisandre shook her head: "No."

Samwell was not disappointed, and turned back to the table.

A huge horn was placed on the table, and the red and gold patterns flickered on the dark surface, as if breathing.

"This Dragon's Horn, help me research it." Samwell said, "I suspect it has something to do with R'hllor."

"Okay." Melisandre nodded slightly.

When Samwell went out, he saw Gavin waiting outside.

"What's up?"

"Your Majesty, Ser Alekan Florent begs you."

Samwell narrowed his eyes:

"He's from Dragonstone, isn't he?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Okay, take him to the living room for a while, and I'll see him later."

"yes."

Samwell was not in a hurry to see Sir Allerken, but went to the pier first.

The Storm's End fleet is about to set sail today to escort a batch of food to Dorne.

The commander of this fleet is Sir Lucas Dayne, the earliest knight who served Samwell with previous sailing experience. Although he is not an outstanding fleet commander, he is more loyal and reliable.

More importantly, Samwell couldn't find a better fleet commander. Moreover, this fleet is a new thing, and it adopts a brand-new combat method. The fleet commander of the old era may not be more competent.

Watching dozens of new warships slowly sailing out of the naval port, Samwell couldn't help feeling overwhelmed. He believed that this fleet would give the enemy a big surprise.

"I really want to set sail with them." Daenerys beside her sighed with longing eyes.

Samwell laughed:

"Are you still dreaming of being a captain?"

"No way?"

"Of course." Samwell took her hand, "I have already arranged for you a position in the fleet."

"Really?" Daenerys raised her eyebrows, looking eager to try.

Samwell was about to tease a few more words when he frowned suddenly:

"Why are you so hot? Do you have a fever?"

Daenerys froze for a moment, shook her head and said:

"I don't feel any discomfort."

Samwell touched her forehead and neck again and found that it was also hot.

He hurriedly took Daenerys back to Storm's End and found Bachelor Qyburn.

"Your Majesty, Queen Daenerys is in good health." Bachelor Qyburn checked and reported, "Except for her high body temperature."

"What's the matter with such a high temperature?"

Bachelor Coben was a little embarrassed: "There may be many reasons for this, and we need to observe it for a while."

"Sam, I feel better than ever in my body," Daenerys said, "even better than before."

"The bloodline of the Targaryen family is different from ordinary people." Maester Qyburn said thoughtfully.

Hearing this, Daenerys suddenly remembered something:

"By the way, I remember that there was a period of time before that, and my body temperature was also very high."

"What time?"

"The last time I was pregnant!" Daenerys exclaimed in surprise, "Sam, I'm afraid I'm pregnant with your child!"

"Really?" Samwell also turned his worries into joy.

Daenerys nodded heavily: "It must be."

As she spoke, she grabbed her husband's hand and pressed it on her flat belly: "We are the blood of the real dragon, a life made of blood and fire. This is the temperature of our child, can you feel it?"

Samwell stroked Daenerys' hot and soft skin, and suddenly felt a throbbing in his heart:

"Feel it, yes, our children."

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