With Jon about to travel to Hardhome with the wildlings, tensions at Castle Black were running high. Emmelyne couldn't turn a corner without insults trailing her. 'Demon.' 'Whore.' 'Witch.' She didn't take them to heart, however. Maester Aemon's 'illness' grew worse day by day. The day Jon was to leave, Emmelyne found herself in the yard, saying her goodbyes. Jon didn't even speak as he hurried up to her, throwing his arms around her in a tight embrace. "Goodbye," he said.
"You won't be gone long. This isn't goodbye forever, Jon," she chuckled.
"I know. But I've got a feeling something will go wrong this trip."
"Promise you'll come back with all your limbs."
Jon laughed weakly at this, letting go of his little sister. "I'll try my hardest."
Silence fell between them, and they shared one more smile before Jon climbed up onto his horse. He cast a glance back to Sam and Emmelyne, riding away.
That night, in Maester Aemon's room, Gilly held her baby, Sam. Aemon gasped as she lowered the baby to him, letting the old man touch the child's cheek. "There he is," Aemon said with a laugh, his voice weak and thin.
R'hllor sat beside Gilly on the bed, licking Aemon's hand whenever it drew close to him. Emmelyne smiled as baby Sam giggled and cooed happily. "That laugh," Aemon said. "Egg. Egg laughed like that. One of the first things I remember."
Gilly looked at Sam quizzically. "His little brother Aegon," Sam explained. "He became king."
Aemon smiled. "And before that, he was a jolly fellow, like this one."
Aemon's happy demeanor suddenly faded. His face grew sullen. "Get him south, Gillyflower. Before it's too late."
He gave a shuddering breath, and Emmelyne moved to him. She sat on the side of his bed, taking his frail hand. She looked at Sam and Gilly with a sad expression. "It's happening fast," she whispered.
As she held Aemon's hand, it was like she could feel his life slowly draining. Dripping along in a steady pattern, fast as raindrops but yet slower than a snail. She knew completely and fully that Aemon would not last the night. Sam moved to the other side of the bed, taking Aemon's other hand. The small group sat like that for hours, waiting for Aemon to wake again.
His frail voice called out. "Egg. Egg. Mother's looking for you. Egg."
Emmelyne felt tears pricking at her eyes. Gilly looked at Sam. "Get some sleep, Sam," she said. "You'll have to speak for him tomorrow."
"You don't know that," Sam stated.
The poor man was in denial. "Get some sleep. Emmelyne and I will watch over him," Gilly urged.
"I'm staying, too. He's always been good to me. I can't leave him now."
Suddenly, Emmelyne felt Aemon's grip tighten, the force of which a man in his state should not have had. Sam jolted as well, nearly dropping the old man's hand. "Egg!" Aemon cried out.
His breaths were ragged and labored. These would be his last moments, Emmelyne knew that. Sam knew it. Gilly knew it. Maester Aemon was beyond saving. His blind eyes moved wildly, trying to land on something. When they fell upon baby Sam, it was like he could see one last time. "Egg," he said weakly. "I dreamed... that I was old."
Sam enclosed Aemon's hand in both of his own. Emmelyne felt the Maester's grip finally slacken one last time. The blue eyes darted once more, landing on Emmelyne. "I don't like your eyes blue. They're prettier gray."
He took his final breath, his blind eyes staring at the sky. Emmelyne was confused. She had no idea what he meant. She looked at Sam and Gilly. "May I say a prayer? A prayer of my god?" she questioned.
Sam nodded limply. Emmelyne looked down at Aemon, whispering a death's prayer. "Lord of Light, show us the way. Come to us and lead this man into the light. He was not Your servant, but I hope you will make an exception."
She laid a kiss to old Maester's forehead, finally succumbing to her tears.
It was the next morning that they gave Aemon a funeral pyre. As the snow fell down, blanketing the men of Watch in white, Sam spoke. "His name was Aemon Targaryen. He came to us from King's Landing. A maester of the Citadel, chained and sworn, and sworn brother of the Night's Watch, ever faithful. No man was wiser or gentler or kinder. At the Wall, a dozen lord commanders came and went during his years of service, but he was always there to counsel them. He was the blood of the dragon... but now his fire has gone out. And now his watch is ended."
"And now his watch is ended," everyone echoed.
Sam slowly leaned forward, igniting a corner of the pyre with his torch. He held back tears, sniffling softly, handing the torch to Alliser, who lit the next corner. Despite her hatred of the man, Emmelyne felt sorry. She saw tears in Alliser's eyes as he handed it to another man, who lit the third corner. A final man lit the last corner. As the brilliant flames leapt into the sky, Emmelyne saw a face. The face of Aemon. The face became his whole form, and he smiled back at her, raising his arms as he danced in the flames. And Emmelyne knew that wherever he was then, he was happy. For the second time in mere hours, she cried. But as the tears fell down her cheeks, she was smiling as well. Aemon was gone, but now, he was free. He beckoned her toward the fire, still grinning. But then he faded away, his smile lingering in Emmelyne's mind. I don't like your eyes blue. They're prettier gray.