When Rhaegor heard his father's question, he immediately straightened his back. He knew that whatever Draezell was about to say was important—something he had to listen to carefully.
If he wasn't mistaken, this concerned the future of House Vaelarys.
"Rhaegor, what I am about to tell you is the history and the future as I understand them," Draezell said, wrapping an arm around his son's shoulder and leading him to stand beside Vhagar's skull. "Not what you've read in books, but what I have seen with my own eyes."
"You must remember every word I say, my son," Draezell switched to High Valyrian, casting a glance at Rhaegor, who seemed ready to grab parchment and ink. "Do not write it down—remember it in your mind."
"Yes, Father," Rhaegor pressed his lips together and stood firmly by his father's side, waiting for him to begin.
"What I am about to share with you comes from visions of both history and the future, as well as the research your grandfather devoted his life to. I have combined his findings with what I have seen." Draezell placed his hand on Vhagar's skull and began to recount secrets that had never been written in any book or taught in any lesson.
"My father was known throughout the Black Walls of Volantis for his peculiar ways from a young age. No one could understand why he was so different—why he insisted on introducing contract workers when our family had spent generations carefully maintaining a wealth of slaves. His actions turned the other noble families of the Black Walls against House Vaelarys. No one knew why he was so obsessed with organizing our miners, farmers, and laborers to experiment with new ideas. Because of these decisions, our family's fortune dwindled drastically in his youth."
Draezell chuckled as he spoke of his father's past. "But once his experiments bore fruit and House Vaelarys truly rose, those who once mocked him could do nothing but curse him in secret. None dared speak ill of our house openly again. With power and wealth secured, my father then turned his focus to our bloodline. He would often say strange things, things like, 'If only I had read A Song of Ice and Fire or watched Game of Thrones.' But despite these odd musings, his dedication to the study of magic and blood was unwavering, and he did indeed achieve some success."
Rhaegor glanced between his father and the massive skull of Vhagar, his curiosity piqued. These were stories never found in books or lessons, stories only his father could tell.
"The bloodline of House Vaelarys traces back to Old Valyria itself. Our direct ancestor was one of the original fourteen who first tamed dragons—Vaelarys the Smith. It is said they retrieved an undying flame from the depths of the volcano and forged an ancient pact with the great dragons that roamed the peninsula. From that moment forward, the shepherds of Valyria became the masters of dragons, and a great 'empire' rose on the fringes of civilization."
Draezell let out a sigh before continuing, "But my father never believed that tale. He was convinced that the ancestors of the Valyrians committed unspeakable horrors with dragons, that our very blood was mingled with theirs. That is why we can approach dragons even without being dragonriders—unless they are starving. My father believed the Valyrian dragonlords conducted sorcery deep within the pits of High Koth, forcing men, women, and beasts into unnatural unions. And he believed they sought more than just pleasure—they sought to continue an ancient experiment."
He sighed and continued, "But Father did not believe that. He thought the ancestors of the Valyrians had committed unspeakable and terrifying acts with dragons, and that as a result, dragon blood flowed through our veins. That is why, even if we are not dragonriders, we can still approach dragons—unless they are hungry. He believed that the Dragonlords of Valyria, in the deep pits of Ghozai, used sorcery to force men, women, and beasts to mate, not only for pleasure but to further their ancient experiments. They wanted more."
"But what my father did not know was that all of this was not just the history of the mortal world—there were forces behind it, pushing events forward. What I am about to tell you is history from another perspective, one I have glimpsed through means unknowable to ordinary men. Of course, it may not be the truth, just a different angle."
"In an age distant and unknowable, our world came into being. At that time, the oceans rose and fell from desolation, and the land emerged from their depths. The first forms of life were born—forests, oceans, lakes, and rivers—while beings of wisdom played the first notes of this world's great song. As the world stabilized, entities we mortals call 'gods' also appeared. Some were leaders of their people, deified over generations, while others were strange beings beyond understanding. But above them all were the great wills of this world—blazing, radiant, shadowed, burning, silent, dark, cold, and deadly. They embodied life's vigor and death's eternity, the world's growth and its fury. The Old Gods worshiped by the First Men were among them. The Lord of Light, R'hllor, revered in the East, was also one of them. Even the unspeakable gods of myth belonged to this order."
"Father, I remember Maester Visari speaking about this," Rhaegor recalled something he had read. "Although the faith of the Red God is usually considered dualistic, some believe R'hllor and the Great Other were once one and the same, even though the red priests vehemently reject this notion."
"They are one and yet not one," Draezell admitted. He was not certain of these truths himself, but he knew that whether it was R'hllor or the Great Other, the Old Gods or the Many-Faced God, all deities that had ever displayed miracles were but chords and echoes in the world's great symphony. "I saw dragons born from the Shadowlands, the 'creations' of the Red God, bearing the song of fire. I saw blue-eyed beings, what we call 'Others' or 'demons', emerging from darkness and frost, playing the song of ice."
He stroked his son's hair, sighing. "When ice and fire clash—when 'ice' comes to dominate the world—the Long Night and endless winter will descend upon us. We will face the end. In ancient times, the wise races realized this and sought ways to resist it. Thus, the first emperor of the Great Empire of Dawn appeared. During its rule, those haunted by the Song of Ice and Fire sought many methods to prevent catastrophe. It is said that the Valyrian shepherds carried the blood of the Amethyst Empress, who tried to wield fire's power to resist the Long Night and maintain balance. But she failed. Her brother, the Bloodstone Emperor, sought the power of gods beyond the stars to end the struggle once and for all."
"Father, I remember that the Bloodstone Emperor failed too," Rhaegor said. "He murdered the Amethyst Empress and founded the Church of Starry Wisdom, conducting grand blood sacrifices in hopes of summoning an 'Outer God'. But he failed. The Long Night still came. The Lion of Night's demons breached the Five Forts, and the Great Empire of Dawn fell. It was only when heroes across the world—Azor Ahai among them—sacrificed their loved ones to forge Lightbringer that the world was saved."
"Yes," Draezell sighed. As he aged, his memories of what he had seen in the flames did not fade; instead, they grew clearer, revealing details he had not noticed before—like the eyes that opened in the heavens, only to fall one by one amidst fire and frost, light and darkness, shadow and death. Like those who called themselves 'gods,' wailing and struggling in the Long Night.
"After the Long Night, civilization rebuilt itself—the Ghiscari Empire, the Golden Empire of Yi Ti, the cities of the Rhoynar, the High Kingdoms of the First Men, and finally, the Valyrian Freehold, from which our ancestors came. The fear of the Long Night lingered in memory, but its true cause was forgotten. The Valyrians, who wielded dragonfire, should have been the mortal musicians playing the Song of Ice and Fire. But our ancestors sinned with their arrogance. They sought power without restraint, and so they perished."
"The Valyrians' reckless pursuit of 'fire' ultimately ignited the Fourteen Flames, and we lost nearly everything. My son, I do not know if House Targaryen is aware of the prophecy, but the people of Asshai believe that before the next Long Night, Azor Ahai will be reborn in the land of smoke and salt, heralded by a bleeding star. His song will be the Song of Ice and Fire. And his arrival will determine our fate—either he will save mankind, weaving a new song for mortals like the heroes of old, or he will become an agent of ice and fire, bringing the Long Night and plunging the world into eternal death, like the Bloodstone Emperor."
"Do you understand why I am telling you this, my son?"
Rhaegor was intelligent. He quickly made the connection to his family. "So… Father, are we the chosen house?"
Draezell nodded. "Though I do not know the will of the world, it is clear that it delights in the unfolding of the Song of Ice and Fire, in the struggle of mortals to defy fate. It will bring the Long Night, but it will also grant us gifts. Rhaegor, House Vaelarys has received these gifts. And so, we must bear our responsibility. Remember these words, and pass them down until the Long Night comes again. The petty struggles between dragons will only weaken us and the world itself. Remember that. Always remember that."
Draezell's tone was solemn. "House Vaelarys will not suffer division. We will not tolerate weakness. Only through unity can we fulfill our duty."
Rhaegor nodded gravely.
He committed his father's words to memory. Even if he lacked his father's knowledge of the unknowable, he still had his pride and his own strength to rely on. He believed he could meet his father's expectations.
He would. He had to.