It was funny really, how much can happen in a short time span. Which for someone of his age, he had witnessed more than a few changes.
He remembered when he was a little boy where tutors had drummed it into him that as the third son he didn't have much going for him. At most, perhaps a council position. What need was there for more than two sons? An heir and a spare. It was a common saying throughout Westeros.
Aemon had long forgotten how old he was when he said he was going to the Citadel to forge a Maester's chain. But he did remember his father's beaming smile with pride. Even that was something which shook the saying up. Maekar I Targaryen had been the fourth son of Daeron II, yet he sat the throne. His uncle Baelor had fallen after a hit from a mace from the former during a tourney. A complete accident, and his father regularly would shut himself away as guilt consumed him. Something only his mother Dyanna was able to ease him out of. Then there was Aerys I that whilst he did sit the Iron Throne, all of his heirs were either passed over or perished. Then there was his uncle Rhaegel who died after a piece of his lamprey pie got stuck in his throat. Leaving no choice but the fourth son to inherit.
And history repeated itself with himself and his siblings. Daeron from catching the pox which many believed he had gotten from a whore- Aemon still didn't know if that was true but it wouldn't surprise him. He barely remembered his oldest brother now that he was passed his one hundredth name-day. Faces mashed together and it was getting hard to distinguish between them. Coupled with his blindness made it so much worse. Aerion had been mad, dying from drinking wildfire as he believed he would die and be reincarnated as a dragon like the Valyrian tale of where dragons initially came from in his ancestral homeland. Thus leaving himself, and his little brother.
He'd always been closest with Egg. Whilst his sisters Daella and Rhae had opportunities solely because of what lay between their legs, they didn't have much for them. Aegon becoming page to Ser Duncan and later his squire until his teens in the hopes of making a name for himself. A small chuckle leaving the elderly Maester because he most certainly had, but not how either of them ever would've pictured it. A Maester and a Knight, perfectly acceptable for their station as Prince's. Alas, Egg had been chosen during a Great Council. He remembered the way his younger brother had cursed and cried because he had no training as a ruler. Words he had spoken to him echoing in his ears as if someone was sat beside him saying them.
Kill the boy, and let the man be born.
Words he had spoken to the King in the North when he had been a boy himself with his head filled with glorious tales of life at the Wall. The weight of what he knew was terrible, yet he could not speak due to his vows. When five men rode to Castle Black with a signed scroll with a release of his oaths to stand in as a temporary Maester as Maester Wolkan had relocated back to the Dreadfort with Cregan Karstark and his new wife Wynafryd Manderly, he had wanted to laugh aloud. His House wasn't dying after all. Perilously close to doing so sounded much better than the other option.
No one had told him who he was. But his face was as familiar to him as absolute darkness was since he had lost his sight. He had his brothers face. Granted, a little longer from his Stark features, but everything else was Egg. Remembering the ravens he had received from Rhaegar confirming that he did not kidnap Lyanna (something he didn't believe anyway as that was not like him at all) and that he had hoped for another child. A girl preferably so he could name her Visenya. The moment his frail fingers had trailed over the youngers face, he knew. An immense feeling of gratefulness engulfing him for Ned Stark. Whilst he was angry he had helped fill his head with noble stories of life at the Night's Watch, he had committed the highest level of treason there was and in doing so he had saved his own family.
Family was something he had long gotten used to not having. Swearing an oath to the Night's Watch on top of his Maester's vows stopped the whispers of pushing Egg aside to name him King. Kings Landing was a cesspit of snakes and too many spiders lurking in corners where they were not wanted. Casting their webs and waiting idly for unsuspecting prey to get caught and be eaten up. Yet when he pieced it together, this feeling came back and it hit him just how lonely he had been. Despite his age, his mind was still as sharp as Valyrian steel. Giving the boy advice and he had turned into quite the remarkable young man.
He had almost been executed once when he came back to the Wall after spending more than a year living amongst the Wildling's. Something he himself had talked the then acting Lord Commander out of by calling out his hypocrisy. It was common knowledge that many brothers travelled to nearby Mole's Town to lay with the whores in the brothel. And as Samwell put it- they technically were not breaking their oaths. Their oaths were to not take a wife, father no children, and hold no lands or titles. His acolytes words still amused him, and now he was in the Citadel training to be his replacement.
And then there was the dreaded night.
He'd been struggling to sleep which was unusual for him. But then Ghost had howled, and if he was not aware he was breathing he would've thought he had died. A howl so low and filled with so much pain. Aching joints as he got up from his bed and made his way outside even if he couldn't see what was going on. Hearing panicked yells and rushing footsteps. A feeling of loneliness he had once been used to overcoming him again. No one had needed to say anything, he knew what had happened. Aemon had wanted to kill them all himself but he couldn't do so. They needed as many men as they could get. Ser Davos barricading his grandnephew in a room with a few loyal people, himself included. Once he had almost broke and said what he knew. Wanting to hurt Ser Alliser because he had unknowingly put a knife in Rhaegar's son. He was a brother for the sole reason he had refused to bend the knee to Robert Baratheon. But he stayed loyal to his vows.
Yet now, his vows were not as strict as they previously were. With him being absolved by royal decree of his oaths to the Night's Watch, he was free to travel. And the invitation to go to Winterfell had been one he would've jumped in joy over were it not for his aching joints. He would do anything to be close to the little family he had left. Even if one was unaware of the relation. Whilst he couldn't actively interfere with the politics as a Maester is loyal to his castle and not to one specific person, he could offer advice. And Jon was someone who consistently asked for advice.
He had a lot on his shoulders. Not only was he still getting used to no longer being a brother and coming to terms with the fact he had been dead and brought back, but he was also getting used to the position whilst being reminded he was living in his older cousins shadow. Jon considered Robb to be his brother and had come close to becoming a deserter to join him when he had first called the banners. Robb being the first King in the North in three centuries and proved to be a sound commander. After all, not many green boys could outwit Tywin Lannister and stick a thorn in his foot in the same move. Yet he made one stupid mistake. A mistake Aemon knew well and what it could cause as his own nieces and nephews did so.
Duncan denouncing himself from his titles so he could wed his beloved Jenny, Jaehaerys and Shaera wedding one another and shunning their own betrothals, Daeron being promised to Olenna Tyrell only to die not long after it was broken. It was only Rhaelle who had stuck out her own betrothal. And Robert Baratheon paid his grandmother back by trying to kill them all off. Forgetting he himself had blood of the Dragon flowing through his own veins. If only Steffon didn't drown and had survived. He remembered him well. His eldest son in comparison was a puppy, he never would've stood for what he had done.
He shook his head to rid himself of such thoughts. As his father used to say, there was no use on dwelling on what ifs and how things may have been different had something not happened. History was written, and the ink had long dried. He knew he didn't have long left of life, and gods be damned if he wasn't going to make the most of what was left. Flapping wings caught his attention and he stood up, almost banging his knee against the table as he was still getting used to the layout of the room. The raven stretching its leg out with a scroll attached to its leg. If what Lady Sansa was saying was truth, then white ravens were once again flying in the sky. The Citadel confirming winter was truly here. Except the winter coming was one not experienced in eight thousand years.
Many people doubted the King's claims, but no one could deny there was an impending feeling of doom lingering in the air as thick as the fog that was common in the North from the harsh temperatures. Asking for the guard outside the door to fetch the King, his sister, and his advisors. His fingers trailing over the sigil, knowing exactly who had sent it. A small smile coming onto his face.
Daenerys was finally home.
It warmed his heart. They received ravens often about her at the Wall but who sent them was a mystery. An itch overcoming him as he desperately tried to stop himself from smiling wide at knowing he had another family member in Westeros. The Dragon had three heads. Whilst one was elderly, one didn't know, and the other had been wreaking havoc in Essos, the prophecy was coming into place. He had always said for years when Rhaegar first got attached to the books that had been passed down their family that Aenar took from Valyria when fleeing before the Doom. Yet too many things had happened for him to throw the possibility away.
A song of Ice and Fire. A Prince or Princess would be born amongst salt and smoke and they would be the one to destroy the Great Other for good. Many places had a similar story. The Naathi said that someone came seeking shelter and that night the island completely froze and those who hadn't escaped perished. The Sarnori used to say that a day would come where all life would cease to exist. The people of Yi Ti had their legend of the Bloodstone Emperor. Then there was Westeros who had the tales that the Great Other would choose a champion called the King of the Night who had been preparing for thousands of years. Slowly building his army to launch his masters orders. And if what Jon, Edd, and the few others who made it out of Hardhome said was true, they had stared directly in the King of the Night's face.
"I see you have settled in well, Maester."
It was a voice he had come to enjoy.
"I have indeed, Ser Davos. Is his Grace on his way?"
As soon as the words left his lips a few sets of footsteps came in, his blood boiling which confirmed he was here.
"You sent for us Maester?"
"That I did, your Grace."
Even though he could not see, he knew his grandnephew had made a face at the title. He'd made it known he despised being referred to as King, even though it had been a few months now. Handing the letter over to him and hearing the crack of the seal. No words were spoken for a few minutes, taking all of it in.
"To Jon Snow, claimant of the Northern Kingdom. I have landed in Westeros and I'm fully aware you know my intent. The Iron Throne is mine by birth right and I intend to sit atop it. I will pardon you of the breaking of your forefathers oath of perpetuity when he knelt to my ancestor Aegon I. Westeros had not known peace until he landed on the shores of the Blackwater three hundred and ten years prior. I will pardon you of the breaking of your oaths to the Night's Watch and I will allow you to live out your days in Winterfell. I invite you to travel to Dragonstone to pledge fealty to the rightful Queen. Signed, Daenerys Targaryen. First of her name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Queen of Meereen, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons."
Aemon had to fight a small smile from coming onto his face. His grandniece certainly had her mother's fighting spirit before Aerys broke her down.
"Not subtle, is she?"
"Us Targaryen's never are, Lord Wylis. We are passionate people."
All seemed to think it all over, but he knew he wasn't going to bend. A decision as such is not one that can be made lightly. Daenerys was right. Torrhen Stark bent the knee to Aegon and signed a declaration of perpetuity, but she wasn't wholly right. Remembering his numerous lessons on oaths in the Citadel when he was still forging his chain. An oath of perpetuity was not just words. It was an agreement from both sides with dozens- sometimes hundreds- of terms. If any of such terms were violated, the contract was null and void. Whilst the declaration had been lost who knows how long ago, the execution of the Lord and his heir without a fair trial was definitely something that violated a term.
"You can't be thinking about it, surely? After everything that has happened to our family?"
"I won't be bending the knee to her. Aye, she sees herself as the rightful Queen but she forgets that her father was rightfully deposed. Even if it was dishonourably. No offense intended, Maester Aemon."
"None taken, your Grace. I have witnessed multiple members of my family losing their touch with reality and going down a dark path. Were I not tied to any vows I might've even assisted."
Silence surrounded in surprise at the statement.
"You talk of Kinslaying so easily?"
"I said nothing about Kinslaying. There are ways to depose someone without ending their life, Lord Cerwyn."
If the subtle stiffening he sensed was coming from him, he knew he took great insult to his talking back. Damned Northerner's and their prides. The Lannister's were a prideful bunch, but Northerner's and the Dornish weren't far off them in this. Not that he would ever say so aloud. That would be a one way ticket to execution.
"My niece will be looking for allies now that she is on the shores of Westeros again."
A soft footstep was all he needed to know who it was. That was Lady Sansa. Despite going through what she had, she'd come out the other end harder than castle forged steel. Many people would've broken a long time ago if they were in her shoes, and it made him admire the young woman deeply. Even if she argued with the King often which he only knew because it was always either him or Ser Davos who had to mediate between them. Many rulers would take great insult in having someone talk to them as such, but Jon welcomed it. Said that it was nice to have someone who wasn't shy to say he was getting ahead of himself directly to his face. Something he shared with Egg.
Aemon wondered often on what might've occurred had his relative Brynden Rivers not broken parlay by killing his nephew Aenys Blackfyre. He was dead now, having gone missing near sixty years prior during a ranging. That was how long he had been alone at the Wall. At least, until Jon arrived at the Night's Watch.
"Have any other ravens came in? Particularly if there's any news on Cersei Lannister's side?"
He paused for a moment as he came out of his thoughts.
"Nay, your Grace."
"Which means she either isn't the one planning the moves, or she is sitting back and letting someone else do the dirty work for her."
"How did you come to that conclusion, my Lady?"
This was what he had come to know. Her years of imprisonment hardening and sharpening her at the same time. Impressive, as he had heard she played the part of little girl with her head in the clouds well. Which meant she was severely underestimated.
"Whilst my first marriage wasn't consummated and therefore isn't binding, I liked Tyrion. Not as a wife should care for a husband because the sheer thought repulsed me. But as a friend? To an extent. There is one hobby he loved other than drinking and whoring, that being cursing his sister out on her stupidity- "
"You would trust a kinslayer?"
"Nay, I wouldn't. We don't have to trust people to pick up things from them, my Lord."
Now, a small smile formed on his face, and if the small chuckle from Jon was anything to go by he was too. Sansa had all but made it known that she wasn't simply the eldest daughter of House Stark anymore, but instead Lady Sansa. And she was a Lady who didn't hesitate to stand her ground. At least the Manderly didn't get offended at her words like Lord Cerwyn had.
"We do know one thing, she's all but alienated the Reach by what she done. She can deny it all she wants and spin as many false narratives as possible, but the truth is obvious. She has made House Tyrell extinct apart from a handful of second or third cousins- "
"That's where you're wrong, Wylis. You are forgetting Lord Willas and Ser Garlan were not there. There is also still Lady Olenna. Whilst a Tyrell by marriage, she is not a woman to take lightly. I should know more than anyone as if it weren't for my nephew dying she would've been my niece. I must say, I do miss having vocal spars with her, there aren't many people who do so for fun and not without intent behind it. I only met her twice when Daeron would accompany my brother to visit me at the Wall, but that is not a person one can forget. Not even in old age."
It was quiet for a while as they all thought it over, trying to make sense of what to do. Aemon wasn't going to say the obvious. Without some form of outside help the North would fail. Ever since King Torrhen gave up his crown three hundred and ten years prior, what had made this Kingdom sustainable had slacked. The royal fleet was no longer a thing, only the Manderly's having one but they were trading vassals and not war vassals which could not be used interchangeably. Game had migrated further south which meant food was difficult to transport. Not to mention just how far apart everything was. In the south, one didn't have to travel far to get somewhere. But in the North one could travel for days and be met with nothing but frozen wasteland. The Vale Lords were on the brink of leaving, the only thing that kept them was their Lord Protector trying to weasel himself between the King and Lady. Even with the King's accusations, and Sansa had told him things no one else had. As much as he wanted the man to die, they couldn't kill him as then they would insult the Vale and they would leave them with only a few thousand men.
"Do you think we could perhaps use your link to the Tyrell's to have a deal with them? Such as those who don't want to support Cersei we offer them sanctuary like what was done with mine own ancestors?"
"We don't have the space to house that many people. Wintertown is falling apart and even though White Harbour is a city, it is nowhere near large enough to support that number of people- "
"My father sent me a raven this morning, your Grace. Maester, if you will- "
Wylis did not need to continue. Knowing exactly which raven he was referring to. A generous offer, and one they couldn't lose. But it required the King to agree to something he had openly spoken against.
"To his Grace, I would like to apologise formally for refusing the call. House Manderly has stayed loyal to House Stark for hundreds of years as your ancestors offered us sanctuary when the Gardener King's sought to remove our House from Westeros for good. As an apology, I am sending loyal men with enough gold to begin repairs that are needed. I am also sending my remaining daughter to be a hostage as a further token."
Lord Davos snorted, immediately understanding the hidden message. Marry the Manderly girl and House Manderly will forever remain loyal.
"Are you going to accept, brother?"
"Nay. I have already made my stance on the topic of marriage known, and do not fight me on that matter. Everyone in this room knows I have sound reasoning for such, even if it leaves us in a precarious position."
Aemon curled his lips in a little, wanting to blurt it out, but he could not do so.
"You don't have to marry her, but you could make it seem like you are considering it."
A smile came onto his face again at the young woman's words. Someone else in the room stiffened and he was certain it was Lord Wylis as the King had all but refused the offer of marriage to his daughter. Clearly the man had been speaking to his father to think of ways to make it happen but with a few words had been brought down a peg. Many were restless over his beliefs towards marriage which Aemon agreed with to an extent. However, he saw the potential in it as well. After all, an unmarried King was an incredibly desirable match. And even if the North remains independent once these damned wars come to an end, it could be used to their advantage to get supplies to survive.
"My daughter would make a fine companion, your Grace- "
"I don't doubt she would, my Lord. However, you are also forgetting your daughter the numerous times you visited Winterfell when we were babes continuously made japes at my expense. Whilst I learned from a young age it was due to people's teaching and upbringings, it does not change the fact that it did happen. The North does remember after all, and I thought you would've known that considering my sister's House took you in hundreds of years prior when House Gardener wanted House Manderley extinct."
A huffing noise left the man at this, clearly insulted by the insinuation. Yet he couldn't say anything about it because everyone knew that it was true.
"Reply to your father, my Lord of the decision. I will be happy to house your daughter in Winterfell despite everything that has happened in the past. However, it will not be to discuss a betrothal. Perhaps in the future it is one to consider, but not right now. Not when every day that passed winter grips us in its icy fist more and more. It will not be long until it is all we will know. I might've only been a babe the last winter and my sister too young to remember, but this winter will be one that is unprecedented and has not been so bad in thousands of years. If I find out you are scheming behind my back again, Lord Wylis, I will strike you from succession. Court dismissed."
The others in the room probably had a few choice words, but an order was an order, and everyone filed out which left the two of them alone.
"I understand more than ever why you swore yourself to avoid being named King, Maester."
A loud thump echoed which confirmed Jon was now sitting on the seat adjacent his own, likely running his palms over his face which Ser Davos had stated he done when he was stressed. One of a handful of things he did not share with Egg as he took out his stress by sparring.
"A crown is something many seek for vanity and not for the work it brings onto their shoulders."
It went quiet for a few seconds before a deep chuckle emanated from the other.
"Do you wish you'd refused the crown like I did?"
"At times, aye. Clearly titles like to stick to me even if I do not want them and they build up and up until there is a long list."
That was true. But the underlying dig was noted which brought them back to the letter received.
"I can't leave the North, Maester Aemon. There is far too much to do and nowhere near enough time to complete it."
"Then don't. Remain in the North. Even if you wish it not to be the case, you are King. Both by choosing and by decree as your brother did name you his successor- "
"Because he believed Bran and Rickon to be dead- "
"One of which is and the other extremely likely."
It was rude of him to say it as such, but he needed to get it into his head. At least he had an advantage that many did not with the fact he knew him well. Taking counselling often at the Wall and running decisions by him first to get his view on the matter.
"Leave it to me, your Grace. I will work something out but I will run it by yourself and your sister first."
Jon squeezed his hand gently at his words, showing gratitude for his offer before leaving the room to return to his duties. Aemon reaching for parchment and his quill and beginning to write down a response to his grandniece.