He felt like his heart could burst at any moment. A letter arriving around a week prior that Lady Sansa had been kind enough to read aloud even if she struggled with certain words confirming his grandniece was coming north. For how many years had he been alone now? Everything seemed to blur for him these days and despite no one saying it aloud, he knew he did not have long left. Aemon had lived a long life, one hundred and nine name-days to be exact. The last family member he had disappeared decades prior alongside one of their ancestral Valyrian steel swords.

Aemon wouldn't go as far as to say he was friends with his cousin Brynden Rivers, but they got along well enough. After all, he had taken the Black so he would not be used as a pawn against his little brother and the other sentenced by said brother for slaying his Blackfyre nephew under guest rights. Slaying someone under guest rights was a horrendous thing. Promising safety for a person even if they were the worst person in existence only for them to be turned on. He remembered it well, Brynden walking over to Aenys before having the gold cloaks arrest him and take him elsewhere in the castle.

He'd been disgusted when he had confessed to killing him, being branded a kinslayer and an oath breaker in one. Neither of which Aegon was for and something he would not accept even from anyone never mind a family member. House Targaryen had faced enough treachery in their time, no more needed to be added to the already extensive list of atrocities. At one point, they had considered themselves one with the gods. A belief that went back all the way to Valyria and due to this belief their blood had magical properties which allowed them and only them to bond with dragons.

But at the same time, he had been the only family member he had at the Wall. Until he had gone on a ranging and never returned. Loneliness was a feeling Aemon despised with a passion, and it was one he had felt for so long until Jon had walked into the courtyard of Castle Black as naïve as a child being told he could have anything he ever wanted. He didn't know it, nor did anyone alive most likely, but it took him seconds to figure it out. Hand grazing the side of his face stating it was so he could tell who was who better as his eyes had failed him long before. Features so familiar to him and having to force himself not to break down as he reminded him so much of Egg. This amongst the timeline fit way too perfectly.

Numerous times he had come close to admitting it, but how could he? Telling someone who had gone through so much because of a title bestowed solely because Eddard claimed to father him on a woman not his wife? Whilst the North was generally much more accepting of bastards in comparison to the south apart from Dornish, they were still cast aside. Even the freshly legitimised Larence Hornwood had been fostered elsewhere so he would not be a shame to his fathers wife Donella Manderly. Not that she would have a good life as after Halys had died she had been forcefully wed to Ramsay Snow where if the people who found her stated was truth, he had left her with no food or water. The elderly woman resorting to chewing her own fingers off.

As disgusting as it was, occasionally the vilest actions a man can carry out are needed. Many brothers had come back to Castle Black almost in tears as they had been so starving they had agreed that if one died, they would feast from him. At one point the Night's Watch had been a glorious order. Filled with Knight's, high Lord's and their sons, to merchants and occasionally the odd Kingsguard or two after being dismissed. Now it was a place where the most downtrodden and rapers and pillagers were sentenced to live out the rest of their lives.

At least bastards were beginning to be a bit more now. Whilst Jon had no idea of the truth for if he did he knew the King's world would crumble apart on him, he was seen as a bastard. Regularly left out of anything formal and always spat down on. Then there was Larence whom had been legitimised on request of Wyman Manderly. Likely as a way to try and curry favour with the King after what his idiot of a son had attempted. Even now, Lord Wylis would sneak a hateful glare but was always stopped by blood red eyes from Ghost. The wolf as silent as the pup he had arrived at Castle Black with all those years ago. Never growling, never breathing loud. One moment the wolf would not be there and the next moment the wolf would be there.

There had been talks of wedding Lady Alys to Lord Larence in honour of her first betrothal to his half-brother Daryn. However according to many, the young Lady had taken a liking to the Magnar of Thenn Sigorn. If the rumours were true, she had offered to teach him the common tongue as she spoke the old tongue enough to string a few sentences together. There wasn't a huge amount to do in Winterfell, but at least there was more for him to do than there was at Castle Black. Here hundreds of people roamed the walls and thousands more lived nearby that if they had enough money could easily seek assistance from him. It had been something Lady Sansa had suggested of the King to start bringing the coffers up. Something Jon had been strongly against at first because it created a divide between the wealthy and the poor. However, he had eventually lost the argument.

"Maester, a few ravens have come in."

His head snapped over to who had spoken, trying to pinpoint the voice but failing in doing so.

"Meera Reed, daughter of Lord Howland Reed and Lady Jyana Reed."

That explained him not recognising the voice as he had only spoken to Meera once. Winterfell had been filled with Joy when she had entered the courtyard with Brandon, especially remembering Lady Sansa's excited yell and the thump which could only be her jumping on her little brother. Jon had been furious when he found out where he was and who had let him through, Aemon having to talk him out of sending a raven to the Citadel demanding Sam travel back to answer for his actions. Whilst he was angry he had done so too because beyond the Wall was a harsh place and very few people could survive it for longer than a few days, gaining an enemy with the Faith was not a good move to make. His own House had made that mistake on many occasions and the Faith were already against him taking a crown due to his bastard status.

If only they knew, a small smile forming on his face as Lady Meera walked over and handed the small stack over to him. Offering to read them aloud for him which he gladly accepted. Companionship was something he had gone a long time without experiencing. The first letter was a command from Cersei Lannister demanding the King travel south to bend the knee to her and to swear in perpetuity to her. Failing to hold in the snort, clearly she herself also did not know what perpetuity contracts entailed. A conversation he would be having with his grandniece and if her raven she had sent held no bluffs a certain Ser Barristan Selmy as she had used similar wording when she had sent her own raven their way.

The second raven was one received from Sam, milky eyes widening that he had found in a book where there was a massive deposit of Dragonglass. On none other than Dragonstone. Aemon himself had grown up in Kings Landing, but he had visited Dragonstone often enough. It made sense now that he thought on it and a part of him wanted to kick himself for not realising sooner. Dragonglass was frozen fire, formed from volcanic activity. Despite not having erupted in hundreds of years, the Dragonmont was still very much active. The third raven coming from Lord Leyton Hightower summoning him to Oldtown to answer for his crimes of abandoning his oaths, something which did cause him to roll his eyes in annoyance.

"This one didn't come in from a raven, I brought it with me. Brandon does not wish it to be read aloud as he fears the contents but I believe you should have this. When we were north of the Wall, we sheltered in a large Weirwood network in the Lands of Always Winter. Within that network there was a man connected to the roots- "

"A Three-Eyed-Raven I'm guessing?"

Even though he could not see, he could sense her slight jolt in surprise that he knew the title. The letter being read aloud and his face draining of any colour within. Asking her to read it again and then a third time. A specific sentence one he remembered well, and only one person knew those words. But how? He was much older than he was, surely he could not still live?

"Brynden?"

"Aye, Maester. He became the Three-Eyed-Raven. Neither of us recognised him for good reason but he had an item that he asked me to grab as we were escaping. I didn't know at the time what it was but I've brought that in too. I didn't dare to open it myself."

He felt the slight nudge of a long box on his arm. Keeping his balance with one hand and gripping the box with the other. Feeling the length of it and grimacing at the cobwebs there was. Whatever was in this box had not been exposed for a very long time. Hearing clasps being undone as Meera hoisted it onto the table so he could open the box. Wondering what it was that was in here and why Brynden had asked for her to grab it when they had escaped the White Walkers. Not much was spoken of it, Brandon remaining ominously quiet and speaking completely level like he did not experience emotions. It was rather disturbing, but so far the boy did not appear to be doing anything of harm so there was no need for him to do anything.

Hands moving towards the contents of the box and momentarily being stunned; it was clear what it was now. Laughing quietly to himself at not piecing it together from the box and from whom it had come from. But a part of him didn't believe it could be what it was. Wrinkled fingertips moving over the leather hilt that was very worn down and a few callouses from the amount of people that had wielded it. Delicate metal engravings and a hilt with a rippling design to symbolise fire. Finally moving over the ruby and by now his eyes were filled with tears. There was no denying this was what he believed it was now, moving himself to stand up to remove it from the box. Sheath worn down and covered in even more cobwebs but right now that didn't matter to Aemon.

"It can't be- "

"Aye, it is. I believed it to be lost when Brynden went missing. But if what you speak is true and he became the Three-Eyed-Raven, he would've had no use for the sword."

Eventually the weight of it disagreed with his frail body. Sliding it onto the table and asking for Meera to send for his Grace. Whilst it was a sword that had belonged in his family for almost one thousand years if stories were to be believed, there was someone else who had his blood. Even if the other did not know it. Remembering Brynden's words from decades before. There must be three heads. For so long he had puzzled over this but now a part of him wondered if this was all some form of magical intervention. Brynden had dabbled in dark magic as had Shiera, magic no one of Valyrian blood had dared attempt since the Doom. Secrets passed down through their family and all being sworn to utmost secrecy on said rituals. Shaking his head at the thought because it was preposterous.

"You sent for me, Maester Aemon?"

"I did, your Grace."

Even if his eyes showed nothing but darkness, he'd known him for years. It wasn't difficult to figure out the younger had just rolled his own eyes. Whilst he could not be so dismissive elsewhere in the castle, there was no need for him to be such in front of Aemon. Remembering the time Jon had ranted at him over how he had no idea what he was experiencing when he had come close to deserting. Being humbled easily when he had revealed just who he was and being able to sense him shuffle awkwardly in embarrassment.

"These ravens arrived today."

He heard the footsteps as he walked over to take them, reading over them carefully before placing them down.

"Will you answer the summon from Lord Leyton?"

"Will you answer the summon from Cersei Lannister?"

It remained silent for a moment before both snorted in amusement.

"I don't have much time left. The Citadel didn't care for me for decades. It's them scrambling for power again because a sworn Maester refusing his oaths does not look good on them- "

"I freed you from your oaths- "

"And I thank you for such a thing. But you did do so through Northern customs. A Maester's vow is taken under the Faith. In the Northerner's eyes, I am free of all oaths. In southerners eyes I am still tied to my oaths."

He reached over to close the box now, not knowing whether the other occupant had taken notice of it or not. Already knowing who it was he was going to gift it too but she would not be here for another sennight at least. It was a cruel journey from Dragonstone to White Harbour, and Northern terrain was something many people struggled to travel through. A part of him wondering if she would be bringing her dragons. If she was, it would be bittersweet. He'd lost his little brother trying to hatch dragon eggs alongside many other members of his family. If Egg were still alive he knew he would bouncing off the walls in excitement.

"When a new High Septon finally is elected, I shall write to him and have you dissolved from your oaths. You don't deserve to spend what little time you have left in a tower that's close to collapsing."

Aemon knew it was words in the wind, there was no way he would be freed from his oaths. A Maester takes his vows for life. Swears off all lands and titles and will never take a wife or father a child. As a third son, he didn't have much going for him and had little issue in taking said vow. Yet they were considering releasing him from said vow during the grand council to decide his fathers successor. Even if those studying at the Citadel swore not to take part in the politics of Westeros, it was no secret they played some part in it. How much involvement was what the question was. It was quiet after this, Jon reading the letters that had been sent and humming lightly as he finished each one.

"Have you got any plans for Cersei? Whilst I've never met her, it doesn't take a genius to realise she does not take kindly to refusals."

"Not yet. My sister knows her best and I trust her. She is currently working on a way to bring her down without too much bloodshed. The Northern army is weak even if my men deny it. We don't have the strength to make it there. No, we need to work on getting our armies back and rebuilding a fleet. Once we get to this stage we will take on Cersei."

"And if Cersei gets here first?"

"Then I hope we'll be able to at the least repel her. My people chose me to rule them even if I take no joy in it, I will not spit on him by throwing the trust they- "

A massive roar broke the silence. Almost falling from the chair and having to grasp the edge of the table as his heartbeat calmed down. For a moment wondering what in seven hells had made that noise before it clicked. A large smile forming on his face. Feeling arms around him until he had steadied himself and thanking him for doing so.

"Please, take me outside- "

"Maester- "

"No. Even if you order me I will disobey. My brother died trying to bring dragons back, I will not miss my chance to meet one even if I cannot see."

It was a good thing Aemon was close to Jon, because it gave him a lot of leeway. The last time someone rejected an order ended in the man losing his head. Is it something he would make a habit of? Nay, it wasn't. Right now though he did not care, suddenly feeling like a little boy again filled with wonder at anything and everything surrounding him. Once he had gained some of his strength back from the initial scare, they walked side by side to where the roar had sounded from. Hearing people running and whispering frantically out of absolute terror. It had been a long time since a dragon had come north. If the stories were true the last one that had was Vermax. Ridden by the young Jacaerys Velaryon to rally the North to his mothers cause. That had really been the end of his House, they had never recovered from that war.

The halls were beginning to become familiar to him. Remembering how many steps to take to get to a specific corner and which turn to take. It had taken weeks for him to be able to do so, almost being embarrassed to ask the few times he had gotten lost in the castle. Winterfell was huge, some portions of it dating back thousands of years and the cracks in the flooring proved this. A few voices greeting them as they headed outside and all of which they heeded, hearing a voice echo down the corridor they were currently in he had come to enjoy a lot alongside her wit.

"Was there any correspondence?"

"Only that she was heading for White Harbour but nothing other than this."

Sansa muttered angrily under her breath at this, clearly not liking being taken unawares. Mind working like it had not done in a long time and coming to two possible conclusions. The first being she was excited to meet him and had arrived the quickest way she could. The second being one of intimidation. Whilst Jon was adamant he would not bend to his grandniece, if she was anything like many members of their family were, she would not take no for an answer. Hence coming and showing her largest weapon. It grated on him that he could not figure out which one it was, or if it was even a mixture of both. The last thing they need is another divide in the family. Even if Jon was unaware.

One day, my boy. One day you'll know.

He'd never even had it confirmed, deep down Aemon just knew. Knowing he would need to figure out if there was someone who could verify with certainty because without proof no one would believe him anyway. Would put it down to an elderly man losing his mind and speaking anything and everything as a result. Right now wasn't the time to think of such things, feeling excitement bubble up within and desperately trying to keep a neutral expression. Feeling the soft crunch of fresh snow under his shoes alongside the freezing cold gust of air that was so normal to him now. It was a pleasant cold, nowhere near as harsh as it was at the Wall. A place he had never thought he would leave after being sent there so many years before. Nerves eating at him within as they waited, noticing Jon was fidgeting ever so slightly but stopping suddenly which confirmed exactly what was occurring. Another set of footsteps walking to stand beside him and immediately realising it was Ser Davos, another man he had grown rather fond of and enjoyed more than a few word spars with. For someone who had grown up in Flea Bottom, he certainly had his wits around him and was incredibly smart.

"Welcome to Winterfell, we did not expect for you to arrive for another week at least."

He chewed the inside of his cheek now, feeling like he could burst at any moment at hearing two sets of footsteps walking their way. Wishing his eyes could work for one split second so he could take in her face. See if she looked like her mother or even his father. A steady thumping of a cane and hearing a few shocked gasps from whoever had ventured into the courtyard to witness the interaction. A roar breaking this again as he felt a rush of air from above that could only be from beating wings of a dragon. Now, the smile broke out on his face. Being able to sense a few curious eyes cast his way but soon being enveloped into a tight hug. A small head tucking into the side of his neck and feeling an intricate braid as his hand reached up to cup the back of her head. The tears fell now, joy filling him in a way it never had. Being reunited with family once again, something he had long accepted he never would experience when Brynden had disappeared.

"Carra, please ready rooms for our guests, and bring some bread and salt- "

Numerous people grumbled at this, someone muttering something about 'the mad kings daughter' and noticing the way her body froze in anger at the remark.

"Your Grace, you can't mean- "

"I do mean what I said, Lord Cerwyn. Daenerys is our guest as is Ser Barristan, neither will come to harm whilst in this castle. That goes for everyone. A child should not be held responsible for the sins of their parents. Or have you forgotten such? If so then I guess your pledge to me as your King is null and void?"

He almost snorted aloud at that remark, Davos even letting out a short laugh before composing himself if his body language was anything to go by. Slowly walking back into the keep with a few guards for good measure until they were in his own quarters. Or temporary quarters depending on who was asked. No one ever spoke it aloud but everyone knew he did not have long left in the world and Winterfell would need a new Maester. That is if the Citadel would even send another Maester to the heathen Kingdom as many called it whilst he was studying and forging his chain.

"Can I?"

Fingertips reaching over to touch her face, feeling her nod as he traced around her. Welling up again as she reminded him so much of Rhaella. He'd only met her once when his brother had taken his grandchildren to visit him at Castle Black. She'd been a little girl then, when she had believed she would be allowed to wed her dashing Ser Bonifer as she put it. A dream which was crushed when she was ordered to wed her brother for Valyrian custom. Egg didn't believe in the tradition, but he eventually did accept it. Even though he had sent a raven his way ranting on how Shaera and Jaehaerys had shunned their own betrothals by wedding one another in secret. His niece and nephew fancying themselves the new Jaehaerys and Alysanne doing exactly the same nearly two hundred years prior.

"You look like your mother."

"Ser Barristan tells me. If I knew you were still alive I would've- "

"You came when you needed to, and that is all that matters."