After a stroke, millions of brain cells die every minute. If blood flow is not restored in time, they will be lost forever.
Aegon now found himself trapped in such a desperate state.
He could feel his consciousness slipping away, weakening with every passing second.
"Is this what death feels like?" Aegon murmured in his heart.
It was not death itself that he feared, but the suddenness of it—the fact that it had come without warning, leaving him defenseless.
He had believed he still had at least another decade ahead of him, that he would not face the end until well into his sixties. Yet here it was, death arriving quietly just after his fiftieth year.
Dying at fifty was not frightening in itself. What was truly terrifying was that he had not yet completed the transfer of House Targaryen's power.
He had not passed the throne to his heir, Prince Maegor.
Nor had he handed over the Holy Faith of the Seven to Maegor.
If he were to die so suddenly, the Targaryen dynasty would surely be thrown into turmoil.
In those final moments of clarity, Aegon used the only fingers he could still move to scrape the bedboard until they bled, tracing out four words:
—Seeds of Life!
It was the only method he could think of to recover from the stroke and paralysis—a treasure left from the experiments he had once conducted in Valyria in a past life.
The Seeds of Life carried immense side effects, but they would certainly restore his bodily functions.
Perhaps the transplant would grant him only a few more hours of life, but that would be enough—enough time to write his will and set his affairs in order.
...
In Aegon's sickroom in the Windwyrm Tower on Dragonstone, the maid who had kept vigil through the night discovered the blood-written words on the bedboard. When she reported it to the royal family, every Targaryen on Dragonstone gathered there.
"Father must have briefly regained consciousness last night," Prince Maegor said, staring at the four words with a puzzled frown. "He must have rubbed his fingers raw to write them... but what do they mean?"
He was anxious, though not because his father had yet to pass him the throne, but because he truly did not wish for his father's life to end so soon.
Princess Rhaena cradled her grandfather's battered fingers gently. Raised by Aegon from childhood, she was deeply attached to him, and her eyes were brimming with tears.
Queen Rhaenys stared blankly at the words. Something in them stirred her memory, yet she hesitated to speak. She looked toward her son.
Aenys, clad in a white maester's robe, gazed at his father with a faint trace of satisfaction in his expression.
Rhaenys frowned, unsettled by his reaction. Ever since Aenys had lost the throne, her branch of the family seemed changed—especially her son. Even she herself no longer felt like the person she once was.
Aenys noticed her gaze. He knew she recognized what Aegon had written and gave her a slight shake of his head.
As the king's eldest son, he had once overheard his father and grandfather speak of the Seeds of Life, knowing they could bring a man back from the brink of death.
Rhaenys saw his gesture to remain silent, and at last a hot tear escaped her eyes. Her son no longer loved his own father, and the thought filled her with deep sorrow.
The others noticed her grief but assumed it was only because of Regalus' grave illness.
Sobbing, Rhaenys stepped forward, pressing Aegon's hand against her cheek.
"You heartless man... why must you torment me like this, even now?!"
Visenya and Maegor exchanged a glance, neither understanding her words.
"The Seeds of Life are actually—" Rhaenys began, turning toward the assembled royals.
"Mother, no!" Aenys shouted in alarm.
Rhaenys glared at him through reddened eyes.
"He is your father—your true father! Can you not even grant him his final wish?"
Aenys opened his mouth, but no words came. He paused, recalling the days of his childhood, the lessons his father had given him, and finally managed a pained, "Yes... I'm sorry. I..."
Queen Visenya, beginning to understand, asked her sister, "You know what the Seeds of Life are?"
Rhaenys gave a slight nod.
"They are something that can awaken the body's hidden potential, created by our ancestor—the Dragonlord—through blood sorcery. Grandfather told me they have severe side effects."
Maegor stepped forward eagerly. "Where are they?"
Visenya's eyes lit with realization. "The family treasure vault?"
Rhaenys nodded again.
With the key taken from Aegon's bedchamber, the royal family made their way to the rear slopes of Dragonmont, where the vault entrance lay. But guarding it was a massive creature—Dreamshade, a King-tier Dragon from ancient Valyria, whose lair sprawled across the very mouth of the vault.
Maegor held up the key and waved it before Dreamshade.
The great dragon hesitated for a moment, then allowed them passage.
Inside, they searched carefully until, in the deepest chamber, they found nine Seeds of Life, perfectly preserved.
They were kept in a vessel filled with purple liquid, each the size of a walnut, their fleshy surfaces sprouting fine tendrils that writhed slowly, reaching outward in every direction.
"This thing looks alive… and those tentacles can move," Maegor said, a hint of surprise in his voice.
"The ancient Valyrian Freehold has been gone for more than a hundred years, yet the glands of these Seeds of Life haven't withered. Valyrian blood sorcery truly is remarkable. Quick—see how they're used!" Visenya marveled, then urged him on.
Maegor nodded and picked up the instructions Aegon had written in his former life.
Moments later, he looked up, his face dark. "The Seed of Life must be sewn directly onto a person's heart—after cutting open the chest."
"We don't know the blood sorcery of ancient Valyria. Can such a transplant even succeed?" Rhaenys asked worriedly.
"There's no other option now. Take Aegon to the New Citadel in Harrenhal. They have the most skilled wizards from the Mysterious School, as well as some Archmaesters of the New Medicine. They might be able to do it," Visenya said after a moment's thought.
"Alright," Maegor agreed immediately.
He picked up one of the vessels, ready to leave at once.
"Take them all. If one is wasted, we'll still have spares," Rhaenys suggested.
"Mm." Maegor nodded in agreement.
Then he turned to his aunt with a sincere look. "Aunt… thank you."
"He's my husband," Rhaenys replied softly with a sigh.
Each of them took two vessels and left the vault.
...
They loaded Aegon's paralyzed body onto Vhagar. Maegor mounted Cannibal, carrying the Seeds of Life, and together they raced toward the New Citadel in Harrenhal.
When several royal dragons descended upon Harrenhal at once, the commotion was so great it startled everyone within the Citadel.
By Queen Visenya's strict order, no one was allowed to speak of the king's condition.
Aegon's limp, powerless body was placed upon a medical table. Surrounding him were dozens of people—aside from the royal family, every one of them was among the most distinguished scholars and Archmaesters from their respective disciplines.
When they heard the royal family intended to cut open Regalus Aegon's chest and implant something called the Seed of Life, their shock was so great they briefly suspected the royals had lost their minds from grief.
Rhaenys had no choice but to explain the Seeds' origin.
Once she spoke of the ancient Valyrian Champion Dragonlord and his use of blood sorcery to create them, the scholars found it believable. After all, only Valyria could produce something capable of bringing a man back from the brink of death.
When her explanation was done, it came time to choose who would perform the transplant.
Unsurprisingly, the New Medicine school that Aegon himself had nurtured was put forward to lead the surgery. Aegon had once relied on them to treat grievous injuries, even amputations, and many patients had survived under their care.
The Witch Doctor School would assist, using black sorcery to staunch the bleeding and keep Regalus alive.
Once all preparations were complete, the Archmaester of the New Medicine School stepped before Aegon. He held a small knife in his hand—but no matter what, he couldn't bring it down.
His hands trembled violently.
He knew one thing for certain: if he accidentally caused the Regalus's death, he would be executed on the spot.
And the Seven Gods Order passed down by Regalus was fearsome in itself—if a man failed to accumulate enough merit in life, he would face judgment from the Stranger in the seven hells. Failure meant eternal damnation, the complete annihilation of one's soul.
If he killed Regalus Aegon with his own hands, he wouldn't even need to go to the underworld to know the verdict: failure was certain, and his soul would be obliterated.
"Do it!" Maegor barked, watching the Archmaester stand there, hands shaking above Aegon's chest for what felt like an eternity.
The Archmaester turned to him with a miserable look. "Perhaps… we should find someone for me to practice on first? I've never opened a human chest before. I'm afraid something might go wrong."
Maegor found the suggestion reasonable and nodded. "I'll have someone bring a prisoner."
At that, the Archmaester of the Witch Doctor School cut in sharply. "How can you experiment on a prisoner? Setting aside the value of the ancient Valyrian Seeds of Life, the Regalus is the reincarnation of the Father. Using the lowest of the low for such a trial would be an insult!"
"Then who?" Maegor asked instinctively, caught off guard by the rebuke.
The Witch Doctor Archmaester stroked his beard with satisfaction. "Naturally, someone of the Father's own bloodline. Only then can we truly see if the Seed of Life works. How can a mortal body compare to the bloodline of the Father?"
Aegon, though barely conscious and unable to move, burned with the urge to leap up and strike the fool down where he stood.
The room fell silent. Then, almost as one, every gaze turned toward Maegor.
Under the weight of those stares, a chill crawled down his spine and sweat dampened his back.
He remembered clearly what his aunt Rhaenys had said—the Seeds of Life carried immense side effects, and no normal person could expect a good outcome from using them.
"Prince, what is your decision?" the Witch Doctor Archmaester pressed.
Maegor's thick hands clenched until his knuckles cracked, his glare at the man hot enough to ignite dragonfire.
Then he noticed it—the subtle exchange of glances between the Witch Doctor Archmaester and his elder brother. In that instant, Maegor understood: the man was Aenys's agent.
Aenys had spent years in the New Citadel. This Archmaester was surely his man.
How dare he plot against me!
Maegor's chest rose and fell sharply. He fixed his eyes on Aenys, the look in them promising blood. The bond of brotherhood was gone—replaced now by the intent to see the other dead.
...
[Upto 20 chapters ahead for now]
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