Maester Aemon entered the room, leaning on Lynn's arm.
His blind, milky eyes saw nothing, yet they turned unerringly toward the hearth.
He could feel the heat, just as he could feel the frantic beating of his own heart.
There, nestled in the roaring flames, lay an ice-blue dragon egg.
"Lynn."
Maester Aemon's voice was raspy with age, but beneath the frailty, there was an uncontrollable tremor of excitement.
"I can feel it."
"It is... calling to me."
Lynn's heart skipped a beat.
Aemon was a Targaryen, possessed of the blood of the dragon. It wasn't strange for him to have a special connection to the egg.
But a midnight visit like this? He hadn't come just to "feel" it.
"Maester," Lynn asked, keeping his voice even, though his guard was up. "It is late. Is there something you need?"
Maester Aemon didn't answer.
He simply reached out a trembling hand, groping toward the dragon egg.
Lynn's instinct was to stop him.
But seeing the old man's wrinkled face, etched with piety and desperate longing, he hesitated.
Aemon's fingertips finally brushed against the scalding shell.
In that instant, the old man's body shook violently!
An invisible bond, one that seemed to transcend time itself, was forged between him and the egg.
Maester Aemon's lips quivered. Two streams of cloudy tears rolled from his sightless eyes.
"The prophecy... the prophecy is true..."
He turned his head sharply, "staring" at Lynn with those empty eyes. His voice carried a resolve that bordered on madness.
"I can hatch it."
Lynn's pupils constricted.
Hatch it?
Of course he wanted to hatch the egg! He dreamed of it!
Lynn knew better than anyone what possessing a dragon meant.
It was the ultimate weapon, one that could overturn the entire continent of Westeros and seat him at the very peak of power!
But...
"Maester, how do you intend to do that?"
Lynn forced down the surge of wild joy and asked calmly.
He knew hatching a dragon egg was no small feat.
The dragons of House Targaryen had been extinct for over a century. Countless people had tried to bring them back, and all had failed.
The only successful case would be Daenerys in the future.
And she traded four lives to bring three hatchlings into the world.
What did Maester Aemon intend to do?
"Blood magic."
Maester Aemon squeezed the words through his teeth.
Lynn's heart sank like a stone.
I knew it!
"It is written in the ancient scrolls," Aemon's voice dropped to a low, mysterious whisper.
"Dragons are magic made flesh, born of fire and blood."
"Ordinary fire cannot wake the sleeping dragon soul."
"Only fire infused with life force can make miracles happen."
Maester Aemon extended his withered hands, his voice trembling with a chilling fanaticism.
"And the most potent life force comes from the wisdom of a sage, the blood of a king, the blood of the dragon."
Lynn understood immediately.
Aemon Targaryen.
He was not only a Maester of the Citadel, possessing a sage's wisdom.
He had once been a lawful heir to the Iron Throne, possessing King's blood!
And he was a true son of House Targaryen, carrying the blood of the dragon.
"You mean to..."
"Yes."
Maester Aemon nodded.
A smile appeared on his face—a smile of release.
"To use my blood, my life, to hatch it."
"Lynn, you were guided by the Old Gods to find this egg."
"And I, Aemon Targaryen, will use my life to complete the final ritual."
"This is my destiny."
"No!"
Lynn blurted out without thinking.
Are you kidding me?
Trade Maester Aemon's life for a possibly uncontrollable dragon?
That was a terrible trade!
And if word got out, how would people look at Lynn?
More importantly, Aemon's identity as a Targaryen was a massive trump card in itself.
A living, legitimate Targaryen prince—how much leverage would that provide in the political games to come?
Lynn couldn't even imagine the possibilities!
Using Aemon's full support to secure his own supreme status was worth far more than a baby dragon right now.
He wasn't crazy.
"I absolutely forbid it!" Lynn's tone was firm.
"Maester Aemon, you are far more important than this egg."
Aemon seemed to have anticipated Lynn's refusal.
There was no surprise on his wrinkled face, only a shake of his head and a bitter smile in his voice.
"Lynn, you do not understand."
"A hundred-year-old man, a blind, useless relic, clinging to life in this frozen corner of the world... what meaning is there in that?"
"I can feel it. My time has come."
"If I can use the last flicker of my life to hatch this young life, to light a flame that can illuminate the Long Night..."
"That would be the greatest honor of my life."
Honor again!
Lynn felt a wave of irritation.
Do people in this world have anything in their heads besides honor? First Ned Stark, now this old Maester!
"Maester, this isn't about honor!"
Lynn tried to calm him down.
"You can do far more for us alive than dead!"
"The Night's Watch needs your wisdom!"
"Wisdom?" Aemon laughed self-deprecatingly.
"Can my wisdom stop the army of the White Walkers?"
"Can my wisdom burn the undead wights to ash?"
"No, Lynn. It cannot."
"But a dragon... can."
Maester Aemon turned his "gaze" back to the egg.
His resolve was unshakeable.
"This is our only hope."
Lynn opened his mouth to argue further.
Just then.
Creaaak—
The door was pushed open, and Jeor Mormont walked in.
He had evidently heard the commotion, his face etched with confusion.
"Maester Aemon, Lynn... it's late. What are you two..."
Mormont stopped mid-sentence when he saw the look of utter determination on Aemon's face and the dark expression on Lynn's.
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