Chapter 232: Twilight of the True Dragons
Old Maester Aemon's residence was inside a sturdy wooden fortress, situated right below the rookery.
The Long Night stretched on, and the fire burned, consuming rotten logs one after another. Rhaegar boiled water and added more fuel for the Maester; old people were always afraid of the cold.
"I see Egg, your great-grandfather, when I look at you!" the old Maester said, looking at Rhaegar and recalling that unrestrained and innocent knight, Aegon. But that was many years ago. The king who should not have been king, Aegon, the fourth son of the old King's four sons, had shoulder-length hair. He was tall, slender, and very handsome. He had bright, large eyes and purple pupils that exuded the royal aura of House Targaryen.
"But your hair isn't quite the same; yours is short and cropped, like Aegon the Conqueror's. Your great-grandfather had long hair, though he was bald for a time when he was a squire. He was more innocent than you, and you are more glorious and sharp than him! Your statuses are different; your great-grandfather never thought he could become King; he wanted to be a knight more!"
Rhaegar nodded, knowing the history of his great-grandfather Aegon. As the second son born to King Maekar's second son, his chance of inheriting the throne was almost negligible, similar to Tywin's father, Tytos. Nobles didn't even bother to flatter him. This gave him freedom, the freedom to travel with Ser Duncan, and the freedom to choose his own marriage. Rhaegar, however, was born the legal heir and naturally enjoyed power more readily.
"My peers have fallen away one after another; fewer and fewer remain to reminisce with me," the old Maester sighed. "Please forgive my rambling, I am an old man."
"It is my honor! Great-Uncle, you are the elder of our family!" Rhaegar replied, feeling honored. Being the oldest dragonblood meant the old Maester had lost far more than he had gained.
"You don't need to call me Great-Uncle. On the Wall, I am just a man of the Night's Watch; you can call me Old Maester. The Long Night is long and dark. For a young man like you, the lack of fine wine, beautiful women, and dancing should be quite lonely. But here, you must listen to an old man's life lessons! However, just by coming here and seeing these brothers in black, you are already a great man!" the old Maester joked.
"For you to abandon the wealth and nobility of a Prince and come here, you are a true giant," Rhaegar exclaimed. Poverty, monotony, cold, and holding fast year after year. The old man was truly dedicated.
"A man of the Night's Watch who comes here goes through at least three tortures, three trials! The time I most wanted to return to King's Landing was for your great-grandfather's funeral, but I couldn't see him one last time. All my brothers have fallen away." A sense of loss appeared in the old Maester's eyes.
"You are a true warrior of the Night's Watch! You live up to this honor!" Rhaegar praised the old Maester.
"I can only endure. Desire and kinship are the great enemies of the mortal world. Every time I go to King's Landing, I move further away from the Night's Watch!" The old Maester fell into a kind of sorrow; this was all he could do: bear watching his peers vanish.
"You have done very well, even surpassing Egg! I am reminded of my Great-Uncle, Baelor Breakspear; the entire kingdom placed great hopes upon him back then!" the old Maester said.
"Success in youth must be guarded against greed! You must not become mad, nor obsessed with dragon dreams. It is good that you rarely dabble in such things. House Targaryen calls itself the blood of the dragon, but after coming to Westeros, they became much more fragile. In my generation, my grandfather had four sons, and those four sons produced many descendants. But they withered too quickly, or else my father, King Maekar, and my brother Egg would never have become King. My Uncle Baelor's two sons died in the Great Spring Sickness; my second uncle was a bookish King who loved books more than women. My third uncle's son was accidentally killed by his own sister-wife. As for my brothers, Rhaegar, you know them too."
"Your four brothers!" Rhaegar gave a wry smile. King Maekar's four sons were the time House Targaryen truly shone. The eldest was a drunkard and whoremonger who died of the pox. The second, Aerion Brightflame, was a somewhat neurotic and vicious fellow who drank wildfire and ascended to heaven. The third was a Maester, a role despised by the martial nobility. The fourth, Aegon, was a knight with a commoner's demeanor who, in his later years, became superstitious due to his inability to manage state affairs, wishing to recall the dragons, which led to the tragedy at Summerhall.
"Do you think all this happened naturally?" Rhaegar couldn't help but ask. The old Maester's generation, perhaps seven or eight male descendants, had all vanished quickly.
"Perhaps everything is fate! Fate is the great hand that controls everything; it is the will of the gods. Just like the hammer blow my father used to kill his elder brother, he lived his whole life in regret, and the crown was a shackle to him," the old Maester sighed.
"I feel that there is a providence in the unseen. Once there are too many dragonseeds, fate quickly reveals its malice. It is as if House Targaryen is cursed!" Rhaegar said. The old Maester must have felt this way too, having experienced the Dragonlord family's third and fourth population explosions. The flourishing and fading of the True Dragons seemed instantaneous. Periods with many dragon descendants eventually led to many tragedies: King Jaehaerys the Conciliator's children, the era of the Dance of the Dragons, the numerous descendants born to Aegon the Unworthy, and the prosperity of the main royal line during the reign of Daeron the Good. Yet it all vanished in an instant, and starting from Rhaegar's grandfather, the line became single-heir again, a terrifying isolation. Whether this was fate's prank or someone behind the scenes stirring up trouble, a solution had to be found.
"I have considered this problem as well!" the old Maester said. "My grandfather, King Daeron, once said that too many dragons would cause disaster, and I was sent to the Citadel. It seems there cannot be too many dragonseeds; once there are many, they begin to wither. Think about that time; there were once over a dozen male members in the family. How prosperous the True Dragon family was then."
"Over a dozen true dragons—that must have been quite magnificent!" Rhaegar felt a sense of longing; the prosperity of one's kin is also a sign of a thriving nation.
"I have considered many reasons! The causes are multifaceted: first, that drop of madness in House Targaryen's bloodline—superstition or outright insanity. Then, the True Dragons are too close to power; the raging fire of power can also burn people to ashes. Finally, there is capricious fate. We pride ourselves on the blood of the dragon, but in reality, we are only slightly better than mortals, not completely immune. We still cannot avoid plagues, or even the pox," the old Maester summarized for Rhaegar. "It is your responsibility to respect our bloodline and ensure the blood of the dragon flourishes. If I can see the revival of the dragon family in my lifetime, I will die without regret. I can also see your great-grandfather, my drunkard elder brother, and my sisters among the crowd in heaven."
"I will. Prosperity and endless life are the responsibilities of every generation!" Rhaegar realized. Magic and power, if used well, could restore House Targaryen's prosperity. It was simply a matter of strengthening the trunk and weakening the branches; as long as his territory was large enough, sending branch Targaryens far away would reduce trouble. If the blood of the dragon became numerous, and only the Crownlands benefited, conflict was inevitable. And those who stirred up trouble behind the scenes would awaken the Sleeping Dragon's Wrath.
"I want to hear you talk about the Citadel and House Hightower! After all, you were there for a long time!" Rhaegar asked the old Maester.
"The Citadel and House Hightower? Why have you become interested in them? These two are not single entities but very large collectives, and it's not strange to find all sorts of people within them," the old Maester said, sinking into recollection. "The Citadel treated me well on the surface, but in reality, I sensed a subtle barrier. Knowledge is sometimes as precious as gold. Perhaps it's because I am still a Targaryen; some mysterious and dark knowledge was inaccessible to me. Sometimes I think about the unsavory things they hide; after all, they have existed for so long, and that is one of their secrets."
"Regarding House Hightower, I can only say they are not exactly clean, mysterious yet powerful. They are also extremely greedy, secretly greedy, wealthy, and powerful... A love of knowledge doesn't mean they possess high morals. Back when the Faith was based near House Hightower, they often pushed people in—their own family's bastards and second sons. One former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch was a member of House Hightower, and he actually tried to have his bastard son inherit the position, causing a lot of trouble."
"I am expanding a very new type of institution, which will slowly draw knowledge back to the Royal Capital," Rhaegar shared his idea with the old Maester.
"As a Maester, I cannot comment on your view, but as a man of power, I think your view is correct. Powerful forces, no matter which family holds them, must be guarded against. A player in the field of power cannot afford not to be suspicious, yet cannot suspect everyone; that balance is extremely difficult to maintain."
"I will be mindful of the limits," Rhaegar said. It seemed that on some levels, they shared the same perspective. Possessing a treasure makes one guilty, especially when some individuals within are indeed ill-intentioned.
"You must not become complacent, nor arrogant. You are superior to Egg; you have dragons, military achievements, armies, and a lover. You shine brighter than Egg, but you are also younger. The crown is heavier than you realize! You must kill the boy inside and become a true man. You must kill yesterday's self and become greater than you were yesterday. I once said these words to your grandfather, and I want to say them to you again. When you become King, you must bear the expectations of millions and strive for the welfare of the Seven Kingdoms."
"I shall watch, like a man of the Night's Watch, for the welfare of the people of the Seven Kingdoms and the honor of House Targaryen!" Rhaegar nodded; the old Maester's words were truly golden advice.
"Too many dragons and too few dragons are both trouble. I once dreamed of the twilight of the dragons; sometimes I am tormented by the dream! In fire, amidst wailing, the Mad Dragon is killed by a Lion, the Silver Dragon is gored by a Stag. The Mother Dragon dies in a storm, the Young Dragon is killed by a Warhorse and golden flames, and the lone surviving Purple Dragon flies to another land, suffering great hardship. It is a nightmare, the tragedy of the dragons! Promise me, Rhaegar, make the True Dragons prosper!"
"I promise you!" Rhaegar nodded.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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