and Become a Buddha
The moon was bright, the stars were sparse, and magpies flew south.
The gentle evening wind brushed through the bushes and grass, carrying the faint sound of insects chirping. Standing beneath the bright full moon and taking in the vibrant spring night, with nature awakening all around him, Prince Aegon felt a strange sadness well up in his heart.
Being driven into a corner did not feel pleasant at all.
Contrary to what the soldiers had speculated, even within the core decision-making circle, it was not a simple matter of everyone unanimously agreeing to Daenerys's peace treaty and deciding to return east to surrender.
Aegon did not want to speak ill of his father-in-law, but Lord Mace Tyrell was a simple-minded and indecisive man. In many matters, he often listened to the advice of his mother, the Queen of Thorns, or even his daughter Margaery. Away from the strong women of his family, he was unable to quickly discern the intricacies of this treaty, which was full of irregularities, or offer his own opinions.
By contrast, the Reach lords accompanying the army, such as Randyll Tarly, were all shrewd men. The lords quickly saw through the treaty and realized that Tyrell had betrayed the entire Reach and sold out the other lords. After publicly cursing Mace's good children, they angrily took their guards and retainers and left the camp.
Those who left quickly were fortunate. The situation only became difficult to control when Harry Strickland also understood the contents of the treaty, realized that his Golden Company was not mentioned in it at all, and then sent sellswords to guard the entrances and exits of the camp.
...
"I have advised Lord Mace, and he has agreed that House Tyrell will bear the Golden Company's subsequent resettlement costs. Homeless Harry will soon hear this news, and I have told him to forget about the compensation. The living have an uncertain future. Who cares about the dead at a time like this? Both sides taking a step back is the best outcome we can offer."
His voice arrived before he did. Jon Connington walked up to Prince Aegon, who was staring blankly into the night, and spoke in a serious tone.
Shadows flickered around the small farmhouse that served as the temporary residence for the prince. Sellswords holding torches and oil lamps patrolled back and forth vigilantly, ostensibly guarding, but in truth imprisoning and watching, the prince, the Hand, and the Lord of Highgarden within the courtyard.
"Do not listen to that scoundrel's nonsense. He is only spouting ideas because he cannot accept losing everything. The slave masters will never truly regard you as king. They will only use you up and discard you. Not to mention, I do not think that so-called Anti-Dragon Mother Alliance can deal with Daenerys and Aegor."
Connington said this not merely because he had been terrified by the Western Expeditionary Army, but because after calmly analyzing and reviewing the battle, he realized a small detail. The weapon that could produce a tremendous roar and shoot projectiles a mile away would also be a powerful tool in naval warfare. If they were deployed in King's Landing and Dragonstone, the fleets of the Free Cities would be unable to enter Blackwater Bay and would pose no threat to the foundation of the Targaryen Dynasty. And if Daenerys's navy also equipped them in large numbers, he could not imagine how the slave masters could possibly win.
"Rest assured, Lord Connington," Aegon replied firmly. "I will never return to Essos with Harry and seek refuge with the Free Cities."
This was the truth, and the reason for this decision was not based on any long-term tactical or strategic consideration. It was simply that his character would not allow him to do such a thing.
Varys and Illyrio had arranged a royal retinue for him, this changeling prince, raising him from childhood to adulthood, all to cultivate him into a "perfect ruler," so that when he eventually ascended the Iron Throne, his excellence would make up for the flaw in the authenticity of his identity.
In this grand plan of "artificially cultivating a king," Aegon only needed to be responsible for securing the throne in the end. Winning the kingdom was something his two "fathers" needed to worry about.
With this division of labor as the background, the prince's severe academic imbalance in politics became understandable.
Aegon could wield weapons like the finest knight and expertly navigate the rules of feudalism like a typical noble. He was fluent in listening, speaking, reading, and writing in multiple languages, and had studied history, law, music, and even poetry. He had been taught the mysteries of faith and how to effectively use religion as a tool of governance. He had also experienced the hardships of labor and the suffering of the common people alongside fishermen.
But he did not know how to deceive others, how to use schemes and stratagems to achieve the greatest result with the fewest resources, and most importantly, how to "flexibly adjust" his moral standards for the greater good.
And these skills and insights, whether gray or black, were precisely the indispensable qualities of a conqueror without a dragon.
Two behind-the-scenes troublemakers had used the filth of power and conspiracy to cultivate a pure lotus that emerged from the mud unstained. Aegon was a genuinely excellent young man, well-rounded in virtue, intelligence, physical ability, aesthetics, and labor, a good king who could truly put the interests of the realm and its people first.
His worldview would not allow him to throw himself into the arms of the enemy and become a "traitor to Westeros." No matter how unwilling he was, Aegon would never bring a group of slave masters to harm his homeland.
"That is good." Connington did not concern himself with the young prince's thoughts. He continued to ramble on. "After surrendering, you and I must volunteer to take the black. But believe me, this is only a means of self-preservation, a procedure to wash away the stain of rebellion from you. We will never stay at the Wall for a lifetime. You are Daenerys's own nephew, her last remaining family member in the world, and undoubtedly first in line to the throne of the Targaryen Dynasty by blood and law. As long as Daenerys is slightly unwell on the throne, suffers some accident, or fails to produce an heir in time, she and her council will have no successor to choose but you, and they will have no choice but to bring you back from the Wall..."
Aegon was unmoved. Instead, he let out a long sigh.
And Connington clearly misunderstood the source of the prince's emotions.
"Even if such good fortune does not come, with the advantage of your royal blood, you can easily live a comfortable life at the Wall. Aegor, as the current Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, has made an exception to the ancient rules and vows of the black brothers. He not only involved the Night's Watch in the politics of the Seven Kingdoms, but also served as Hand while still wearing the black!" He did not hesitate to use exaggerated language, and the nature of this matter was indeed worth emphasizing. "Since the head of the Night's Watch can exceptionally become the head of the council, why can others not enter the circle of power? As Jon Aegon Targaryen, a subordinate of the Hand and nephew of Daenerys, after spending a few years at the Wall to clear your name of rebellion, returning to court to assist Daenerys and participate in governing the realm would likely be difficult even for Aegor to oppose with a convincing argument..."
"Lord Connington! I will surrender to my Dragon Mother and take the black as you suggested. It is just that you clearly have not understood my true feelings."
Aegon interrupted his Hand without turning his head, continuing to gaze into the distant night, his tone carrying a trace of impulsiveness.
"I feel terrible right now," the young prince opened up. "First, I crowned myself without authorization, gathered an army to contend with my Dragon Mother for the throne, and when I could not win, I threw away the crown and went back to beg her. Do you know what this reminds me of? A child throwing a tantrum on the ground because he cannot get candy, then behaving after being spanked. My Dragon Mother is actually younger than me, but now she is lecturing me like an adult!"
Connington opened his mouth, wanting to offer comfort, but deep down, he actually found the prince's analogy so vivid and accurate that he finally understood why he had sighed earlier. After letting out a similar sigh, Connington chose to remain silent and listen to Aegon's outpouring.
"Not being able to protect my father, Prince Rhaegar, is the greatest regret of your life, Lord Connington. To erase it, you have spent more than ten years thinking of putting me back on the Iron Throne, every moment of every day. This desire is so strong that it is almost pathological, to the point that even now, when you comfort me, you still focus on the idea that there is still a chance, without even considering whether I have ever thought about, or whether I still want to be this king!"
Aegon paused, considering whether his words would hurt the heart of the old man who had always supported and accompanied him. After a while, he continued.
"From the moment I could understand words, everyone around me kept telling me: you are the true master of the Seven Kingdoms, the fated ruler who has the will and ability to govern the realm well and bring peace and prosperity to Westeros. Under this constant brainwashing and indoctrination, I came to see the crown as my responsibility and destiny. Although my nature does not crave power or wealth, under your urging and even pushing, I stumbled toward the throne, even enduring my aversion to it... accepting the Golden Company, this group of traitors and failures, as my initial force, and marrying into a family like the Tyrells, who only think about power and climbing higher!"
"I raised an army to contend for the throne, made friends I did not like, and married a wife I detested from the bottom of my heart..." So much so that he could not even get an erection. Aegon swallowed this sentence. "Everything, absolutely everything, was because I held this belief: becoming the master of the Seven Kingdoms is my mission, and to achieve the great goal of bringing prosperity and stability to the Seven Kingdoms, I must cross mountains and seas, brave thorns and brambles, and endure the trials of everyone and everything along the way!"
The prince looked back at Connington, confirming by the moonlight that his Hand was listening with a calm expression, before continuing.
"However, guess what I am thinking now?" He took a deep breath. "The Prince That Was Promised is not me, but my Dragon Mother!"
"While she was riding a dragon north to fight the White Walkers alongside the Night's Watch, we were facing off against the usurper's brother, who was holed up behind the high walls of King's Landing by the Blackwater Rush. The allied forces inside were still bargaining among themselves, trying to reach a dirty deal to divide the Stormlands."
"When my Dragon Mother brought the Gift and the northern allied forces south to the Crownlands, immediately gaining the support of five of the Seven Kingdoms, excluding the Vale and the Reach, and was on the verge of uniting the Seven Kingdoms once again, I, whose goal was to bring prosperity and stability to the Seven Kingdoms, was actually leading the last opposing force, becoming the final stumbling block to Dragon Mother's unification of the continent, a destroyer of the realm's peace!"
"In the decisive battle a few days ago, her Western Expeditionary Army of fewer than thirty thousand defeated our hundred thousand allied forces. This is the judgment made by the gods! My Dragon Mother has shown through her actions that she is a capable and strong queen. The Seven Kingdoms under Dragon Mother's rule will definitely be better than having me, a Tyrell son-in-law, as king! In this situation, Lord Connington, are you still thinking that I can go into hiding by taking the black first, waiting for the right opportunity to strike again?"
"I am not that kind of monster!" He gritted his teeth, restraining the urge to yell the words. "I will take the black, but I will go to be a man of the Night's Watch, guarding and protecting the northern border of the realm, not waiting for my Dragon Mother to have an accident or fail to have children!"
"I am not saying these things to shirk responsibility or blame others for forcing me to pursue a throne I did not want. Landing in Westeros and raising our banner was a joint decision, and at that time, I did want to be king. I am willing to bear the responsibility and punishment for the failure with you. But forgive me for being blunt, Lord Connington. I now formally request that you stop repeating phrases like 'there is still a chance' in my ear. To prevent my existence from threatening the stability of my Dragon Mother's rule, I will absolutely not follow the example of the current Lord Commander, Aegor. Instead, like my great-great-uncle Aemon Targaryen, I will stand my watch for a lifetime. Not only for myself, but also to win back honor and respect for my family!"
Aegon hoped his words would resonate, but the truth was that the night and the sounds of insects remained unchanged. His grand declaration left no echo in the moonlit wilderness, only the distant sounds of a few sellswords arguing.
But Jon Connington heard him.
A few days ago, he would probably have angrily rebuked Aegon for his foolish thoughts and lack of ambition before he even finished speaking.
But failure had cooled Connington's fervent desire for a king. Now he had no desire other than to preserve the bloodline of his beloved silver prince, Rhaegar. He felt the firmness of the prince's resolve. If these words were only a momentary outburst from the boy, he would naturally try to persuade him to change his mind at the appropriate time in the future. But if Aegon had made up his mind, then as his guardian and protector, he would naturally respect his decision.
Before Connington could fully process these words and sort out his thoughts, the commotion and shouting that had been dozens of meters away moments before approached the wooden fence of the courtyard. Hundreds of torches flickered and moved, mixed with shouts full of righteous indignation, such as "blood for blood" and "pay us for our lives."
The old griffin's instincts for danger were instantly awakened in every part of his body.
"They are coming for us. Get back inside, quickly!"
Connington drew his sword with one hand and reached out with the other to pull Aegon. A sense of desolation rose in his heart. Protecting the prince should have been the duty of the Golden Company's soldiers, but what happened when they became the source of the threat?
"And then what? We are in the very heart of the Golden Company!" The prince also realized he had no way out and simply displayed the responsibility a leader should have. He stood still, not moving an inch. "Did you not send someone to relay the results of your negotiation with Lord Mace Tyrell? It seems Lord Harry is very dissatisfied with this price. Put away your sword and stand behind me. I am the most valuable hostage in the Golden Company's hands. They will not dare harm me, but you may not be so lucky."
As he spoke, a large group of sellswords holding torches and various weapons rushed through the Highgarden soldiers' guard circle and stood before them.
"Your Grace, we risked our lives and shed our blood for your throne. Some even lost their lives!"
"And after dying, we do not even get a copper penny of compensation?"
"Can you live with your conscience?"
Facing the sellswords' questions, Aegon did not reach for a weapon. With a disparity of one against dozens, resistance would only lead to a quicker death. He waved away Connington's arm, which was trying to pull him back, and even stepped forward to shield his Hand, facing the sellswords' swords with his own chest.
"Everyone, please listen to me!"
The prince waved his arms and shouted loudly, attempting to appease the agitated sellswords with words. He was confident he could resolve this unrest. After all, these people had probably been sent by Harry to frighten him.
But the steel sword piercing his heart told him he was wrong.
"Go to hell, and tell your brothers to their faces!"
Pulling the dripping weapon from the former king's chest, the sellsword captain looked with a ferocious expression at old Connington, who was rushing forward to fight him.
"Kill this one too!"
(To be continued.)
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