Chapter 118: The Sorrow of House Targaryen
"The war is over, Lord Stark." Lady Sabitha Frey swept her gaze across the fierce-looking Northmen, most of whom were young, strong men clad in ragged fur armor. She understood exactly why the North had raised such a massive host. Winter was coming, and even here at the Twins they could already feel the cold winds descending from the North. This year's harvest had been poor due to the war and the coming winter. Knowing that the Northern army had departed the Barrowlands, Aly Blackwood and Benjicot Blackwood had immediately ridden north with Roddy the Ruin to greet Lord Stark's arrival. It was also because of the nearly seven thousand Riverlanders behind them that Lady Sabitha could face these murderous warriors without fear.
"The traitors have not yet stood trial. I have received no letters from the Westerlands declaring their surrender, nor have I seen the traitors' heads mounted on pikes outside King's Landing," Cregan Stark replied calmly.
Benjicot wanted to speak, but a glance from Cregan instantly silenced him. Only then did the young lord remember he was still merely a boy.
"The lords of the Westerlands have already surrendered," Aly Blackwood said, looking directly into Cregan Stark's eyes. "Prince Dragonzel will soon march north with his army, and together with Prince Jacaerys he will preside over the trials at Harrenhal. If you seek justice, then go to Harrenhal and await Prince Dragonzel."
Cregan Stark stared at Aly for a moment before replying calmly:
"Very well. I shall go to Harrenhal. I only hope the outcome of this grand trial satisfies the realm."
As they watched the Lord of Winterfell depart, the Riverlords all quietly breathed sighs of relief.
"Sister... he's terrifying," Benjicot whispered.
Aly looked at Cregan Stark's retreating figure and murmured:
"He is a true leader, Ben. I felt the cruelty of winter in him. Do you know what thirty thousand Northmen truly means?"
Benjicot shook his head.
Roddy the Ruin answered instead:
"It means thirty thousand men who never intended to return North." The old warrior sighed. "The food they save will feed the next generation. From the moment we crossed the Neck, we had already become dead men."
Oldtown, the Citadel, Plaza of King Jaehaerys's Statue.
Archmaester Marwyn of the Higher Mysteries, Archmaester Vaegon of History, Archmaester Ebrose of Healing, and Archmaester Mollander stood nervously before Dragonzel's desk, waiting for the young prince to finish reading the tome that had made all of them uneasy.
Several equally thick books lay stacked upon the desk.
At last Dragonzel slowly lowered the book and looked expressionlessly at the archmaesters.
"Come. Jaehaerys isn't here. Explain yourselves."
Dragonzel picked up a lavishly bound tome titled Breeding and Raising Dragons: Speculations Regarding Ancient Valyrian Dragonlord Techniques, waved it before them, then hurled it at their feet.
"What exactly has the Citadel been researching?"
Marwyn trembled and fell to his knees. He could clearly see Vermithor sprawled behind Dragonzel. The bronze dragon's mountain-sized body nearly occupied the entire plaza. Its head alone resembled a small hill. It would not even need Dragonfire—one breath from it could probably blow these old men away.
"And this."
Dragonzel casually lifted another volume.
"Detailed Observations Concerning Dragon Egg Incubation."
He tossed it down.
"Very thorough research."
Then he grabbed another.
"And why exactly are you compiling birth records of the royal family?"
Archmaester Ebrose immediately stepped forward nervously.
"Your Highness, I can explain the records. The royal family has always been a priority concern of the Citadel. Every Grand Maester's journals and writings are collected and archived so future Grand Maesters may understand events and maintain accurate histories. We preserve not only royal medical and birth records, but Small Council records as well."
Dragonzel silently stared at him.
Ebrose shrank under his gaze, not daring to meet his eyes—nor Vermithor's.
"Then explain why, after the Citadel lost disease specimens, outbreaks of Shivers and Dragonpox suddenly appeared in my lands and around King's Landing."
Dragonzel beckoned.
Vermithor slowly lowered his massive head, staring coldly at the terrified archmaesters.
"My friend died from Dragonpox. The diseases your negligence released have reduced King's Landing to ruin."
The dragon's snout slowly passed over their heads.
Marwyn could see the crimson glow beneath Vermithor's throat—the sign of fire gathering.
"This has nothing to do with us, Your Highness!"
Ebrose instantly dropped to his knees and crawled forward, only for Vermithor's snort to send him tumbling backward.
The old maester struggled to straighten himself and stammered:
"We only discovered it while inspecting the ice cellars! Those vaults are inspected every three months! We truly do not know how this happened!"
Archmaester Vaegon of History fought down his fear.
"Your Highness, Archmaester Vaegon participated in the dragon studies."
After Grand Maester Barth's Dragons, Wyrms and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History returned to the Citadel, many scholars naturally began studying the subject. Vaegon also participated."
Dragonzel rubbed his temples upon hearing the name.
Vaegon the Dragonless.
Technically, the man had been his uncle—the son of King Jaehaerys I Targaryen, famous for refusing dragonriding and becoming an archmaester.
House Targaryen truly knew how to create problems.
Dragonzel sighed inwardly.
Fortunately, these scholars had followed Barth's often questionable theories, while the Targaryens themselves had failed to preserve much Valyrian dragonlore. Otherwise, with better information, the Citadel might truly have discovered something dangerous.
"Wonderful," Dragonzel finally said.
"The more you explain, the guiltier you sound."
He gestured to Ago, the Dothraki boy beside him.
Ago brought over a cup of wine.
Dragonzel sliced his finger and allowed several drops of blood to drip inside.
His wound healed almost instantly.
He pushed the cup toward them.
"Drink."
"Then swear before Vermithor that you've never harbored thoughts harmful toward House Targaryen."
"Go on."
The archmaesters exchanged looks.
Finally Vaegon sighed.
"Your Highness... what the Citadel desires is a world without magic."
He lifted the cup and drank.
"For thousands of years, the Citadel has pursued knowledge, spread knowledge, and served all lords equally."
"We studied magic, yes. We had practitioners of the mystic arts."
"But Your Highness... have you ever considered that perhaps this world no longer requires magic?"
He looked toward Marwyn.
Marwyn suddenly understood.
A small faction within the Citadel despised magic. They had influenced Grand Maesters for generations.
Under their efforts, studies concerning ravens—once magical in origin—had been separated entirely from mysticism.
Thousands of years ago, greenseers and skinchangers could understand raven speech.
Now maesters merely taught birds routes and messages.
Very few even forged Valyrian steel links in higher mysteries.
Magic had slowly been stripped from medicine as well.
But Marwyn never imagined these people would go this far.
"So your people stole my specimens."
Ebrose's face turned deathly pale.
"Seven Hells… you've doomed us all."
Archmaester Mollander looked equally horrified.
History was among the Citadel's most important disciplines.
If History had become corrupted—
Then the education of generations had been corrupted.
"Do not worry."
Vaegon looked at Dragonzel calmly.
"I understand your blood magic."
"I will hide nothing."
"I only ask mercy for the innocent scholars. They knew nothing."
Dragonzel simply watched him.
Vaegon slowly listed names.
There were not many.
But several names caused the others to gasp.
Former Dragonstone scholars.
Grand Maester Desmond, who had served King Maegor.
Grand Maester Albin under Jaehaerys.
"Grand Maester Orwyle was never among us," Vaegon continued.
"That stubborn old fool nearly ruined everything."
"The world we desire contains knowledge alone."
"No magic."
"No dragons."
"The existence of dragons renders military science meaningless."
"Magic invalidates countless fields."
"So we sought a better world."
Dragonzel shook his head.
"You people…"
He looked around.
"If you wish for the Citadel to survive, then before I leave for Harrenhal…"
"I want the heads of every conspirator named."
Then suddenly Dragonzel clenched his hand.
"And who exactly told you there was blood magic in the wine?"
"This—"
He smiled coldly.
"—is blood magic."
Vaegon's expression changed instantly.
He clutched his chest and screamed.
Slowly collapsing.
Vermithor opened his mouth.
A burst of Dragonfire swallowed the old archmaester whole.
His bronze mask melted instantly.
Molten metal fused into his burning flesh.
"Uncle! Uncle!"
Before Dragonzel could order the ashes cleaned away, Helaena suddenly ran toward him.
Already weak, she held Jaehaerys in her arms.
Her face looked even paler than usual.
Dragonzel immediately stood.
"What happened?"
He would not allow anything to happen to Helaena or her son now.
"Jaehaerys complained of headaches last night."
Helaena sounded panicked.
"This morning he suddenly developed a fever. The maesters tried everything but cannot reduce it."
"What?"
Ebrose forgot he was still kneeling.
He hurried forward and touched Jaehaerys's forehead.
"Why is he burning up like this?"
"How did those idiots learn medicine?"
Dragonzel suddenly frowned.
Just as Jaehaerys developed a fever—
King's Landing.
Daemon stood anxiously outside the Queen's chambers with Joffrey.
Baela blocked the doorway.
Wearing a veil, she shouted:
"Mother refuses to let you enter! She fears she may already be infected!"
"This can't be happening."
Joffrey struggled to accept reality.
"We were all there. Why only Mother..."
All of them had returned from the Dragonpit.
Yet after sleeping, Rhaenyra suddenly began complaining of chills.
Her condition worsened rapidly.
Within mere hours she had progressed from shivering to violent trembling and endless coughing.
For once, Rhaenyra acted decisively.
She summoned everyone who had closely approached her since returning to the Red Keep.
Then sealed the chamber.
No one was permitted near.
Not even her children.
Only Maester Gerardys—who had personally delivered her medicinal draught and thus already exposed himself—had been allowed inside.
Daemon silently gripped his stepson's hand.
Second update. Tomorrow's chapter release schedule returns to normal.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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