webnovel

Game of Thrones: Lord of the Flames

[Game of Thrones Fanfiction: Readable Even Without Knowing the Original Novel or Series] Years later, When the legendary lord, dragonrider, Son of Sacred Flame, Nightmare of schemers, Breaker of the game’s order, Undefeated myth of the battlefield, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm— Samwell Caesar ascends the Iron Throne, he would surely recall that distant afternoon when he received the writ of expansion from the “Rose of Highgarden.” Back then, no one could have imagined that this young man, abandoned by his father, would unleash an iron-blooded storm that would sweep across the entire continent of Westeros. Raw: 权游之圣焰君王 Author: 萝卜上秤

Iceswallowcome · Book&Literature
Not enough ratings
537 Chs

Chapter 355: Revival

As the dreadful sound of the horn finally faded, Daenerys Targaryen rose unsteadily to her feet, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breath.

Her clothes were in tatters, and a scrape on her leg bled sluggishly, dark red streaks trickling down her pale skin.

But Daenerys paid no heed to her wounds. Her mind was consumed by only one thought: Drogon.

Clambering over the ruins scattered around her, she frantically searched until she spotted her black dragon.

"Drogon!" she called out, rushing toward him.

Cleopatra had released Drogon, but the black dragon was clearly furious, glaring at the larger white dragon with burning hostility. His heavy breaths sent smoke billowing from his nostrils, and flickers of flame glimmered in his jaws.

"Drogon, no!" Daenerys scolded sharply.

The black dragon growled, releasing a plume of smoke, but ultimately obeyed, lowering his head in submission.

It was a relief to Daenerys to know that her bond with Drogon had not been severed by the horn's ominous influence.

Meanwhile, Samwell Caesar remained mounted atop Cleopatra. Though he caught the scene from the corner of his eye, his focus was fixed on something far more pressing—the harpy before him.

But this time, the harpy wasn't alone.

Behind her stood two more harpy statues, unnervingly animated, though their expressions were blank and mechanical. Unlike the harpy he had fought in Astapor, these lacked the crackling lightning in their eyes and seemed like flawed imitations.

Their capabilities, however, remained unknown.

Waiting for Daenerys to remount Drogon, Samwell finally spoke:

"The smallest harpy is yours. Leave the other two to me."

Daenerys, her face set with determination, nodded. "Understood."

Receiving her reply, Samwell patted Cleopatra's neck and commanded, "Go, Cleopatra!"

"Roar!"

Cleopatra's sulfur-laden roar echoed through the air as she launched herself toward the nearest harpy, her massive wings generating gusts that scattered dust and debris across the battlefield.

Drogon, with Daenerys astride him, surged forward simultaneously.

The three harpies unleashed an earsplitting screech in unison, their shrill cries tearing at the fabric of the air and the eardrums of anyone nearby.

Then they charged.

Boom!

Cleopatra collided head-on with one of the harpies, the impact reverberating like thunder.

The resulting shockwave toppled nearby structures, while wind and debris whipped through the air like daggers.

Cleopatra roared again, unleashing a fiery torrent that engulfed her opponent.

Samwell drew his massive sword from his back, but a new worry seized him as he glanced toward Daenerys.

The other two harpies had abandoned Cleopatra and zeroed in on Drogon instead.

Realizing that Daenerys had unwittingly drawn more hostility than himself, Samwell hesitated only a moment before leaping from Cleopatra's back and sprinting toward her.

By then, Drogon was in dire straits. A thick chain had snaked around his body, pinning his wings and rendering him unable to move.

One harpy slashed at his underbelly, leaving three deep, bloody gashes.

Boiling dragon blood spilled onto the rubble-strewn ground, hissing and steaming as it touched stone.

Drogon roared in pain, retaliating with a blast of black fire that scorched the attacking harpy's face.

Samwell arrived just in time, ignoring the inferno to leap onto the knee of the second harpy. With a mighty thrust, he drove his sword into the creature's leg.

Slice!

The blade sank about a third of the way in, and the harpy let out a piercing scream, lashing out with her claws in retaliation.

Samwell twisted the blade and wrenched it upward, carving a jagged gash along her thigh. Sparks flew as if he were slicing through metal rather than flesh.

Even so, the damage was evident—the harpy staggered, her movements jerky and uneven.

But instead of continuing to focus on Samwell, the harpy turned her wrath on Daenerys.

"Jump!" Samwell shouted as the second harpy lunged for Drogon's back.

Without hesitation, Daenerys obeyed, leaping from Drogon's saddle into the chaos below. She closed her eyes, bracing for the painful impact.

But instead of crashing onto jagged rocks, she found herself caught in warm, steady arms.

"Sam!" she gasped, looking up to see him grinning down at her.

His relief was short-lived. A chain struck the ground inches from their feet, sending shards of stone flying.

"Drogon is hurt!" Daenerys cried, pointing at her dragon, who was writhing in pain.

Samwell placed her gently on the ground and charged forward, dodging a relentless barrage of strikes from the harpy's chain.

There was a bright fire ahead, Samwell suddenly knelt down, and the world stopped at this moment.

All spiritual attributes are transformed into power.

The ground beneath Samwell's feet suddenly sank, and the huge recoil force made him soar into the sky like a cannonball.

Each impact left craters in the ground behind him as he weaved and sprinted toward Drogon.

"Cleopatra!" he roared.

The white dragon abandoned her own battle, tackling the harpy atop Drogon and pinning her to the ground.

Seizing the moment, Samwell vaulted onto the remaining harpy's chest, plunging his sword into her single remaining eye.

Crack!

The blade lodged deep, and Samwell ripped it downward with all his might, slicing open the harpy's head. Sparks erupted from the gaping wound, but no blood flowed—only the grinding sound of stone fracturing.

The harpy screamed—a soul-shredding, guttural wail that echoed across the battlefield.

In unison, the other two harpies screeched, their cries melding into a single, otherworldly howl that pierced the heavens.

The sky darkened. The sun vanished.

In its place, a massive blood-red eye opened in the western horizon, gazing coldly upon the earth.

Screams rang out from all directions, and terrifying energy fluctuations brewed around, enveloping everything and destroying everything.

The seawater in Slave Bay evaporated in an instant, the mountains were blown away by the wind like dead leaves, and the buildings in the entire city collapsed and collapsed like sand did they did.

"No!" Samwell shouted against the rising storm, the harpies' cries deafening him. The ground quaked. The sea boiled away. Mountains crumbled like brittle leaves, and Meereen's towers collapsed into heaps of rubble.

This was no ordinary battle—this was a god's fury unleashed.

But Samwell gritted his teeth, shaking off the terror clawing at his heart.

"If you had this much power," he muttered, gripping his sword, "you wouldn't waste time playing riddles with mortals."

He lunged toward the central harpy, the one with the crimson gem-like eye—the apparent source of their power.

Flames, chains, and tendrils of shadow lashed at him, but Samwell pressed forward, unwavering.

He knew it was all an illusion, just like the tricks he'd faced in the ruins of Valyria. The eye was real—the rest was a lie.

With a final leap, Samwell's blade struck the crimson eye dead center.

Shatter!

A web of cracks spread across the surface, and with a thunderous roar, the world began to unravel.

The blood-red eye in the sky disintegrated. The harpies reverted to lifeless statues, their damaged forms remaining still.

Samwell knelt to pick up the broken crimson shard, breathing heavily as Daenerys stumbled toward him.

"You're bleeding!" he exclaimed, noticing blood staining her legs.

But Daenerys only threw herself into his arms, her voice trembling with joy.

"Sam, I can feel it!" she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.

You will never bear a child again, Daenerys Targaryen. Not until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. Not until the seas run dry and the mountains blow like leaves in the wind. Not until your womb stirs again.

This was the curse the witch had cast on her.

But just now, she witnessed a miracle with her own eyes.

She witnessed the blood-red sun rise in the west and set in the east, She have witnessed the seas dry up and the mountains blown away like dead leaves in the wind.

"Feel what?"

"My womb—it's alive again!" she gasped. "I can give you children! Silver-haired, violet-eyed children—true heirs of the dragon bloodline!"

(End of Chapter)

TL: ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!(⁠┛⁠◉⁠Д⁠◉⁠)⁠┛⁠彡⁠┻⁠━⁠┻