Author's Notes: Good day, everyone! I hope your lives are going well. Thank you, forever and always, for the support you give this fic. I doubt I'd have gotten this far without your devotion! Thank you for your reviews and kudos!

Hektols & afroatemydog - I want to thank you two specifically for reviewing every single chapter. You really didn't have to do that, so I admire your efforts. I know what kind of time and energy that takes, so thank you so much!

Thoughts about S8E5 - Feel free to skip to the content

Season 8 Episode 4 & 5 really knocked the wind out of me. I thought I could handle whatever crappy ending the show writers were angling for, but I'm having difficulty handling this brutality. More than King's Landing, the entire foundation of the books/show feels like it's gone up in smoke. Jaime's character arc was in fact a circle. He was never going to get away and he'll always end up back where he started. Just...ugh. People can ignore the show's butchering and still enjoy Jaime, right?

GRRM said the ending would be bittersweet. Fingers crossed he has the same definition of 'sweet' as we do.

Chapter 48

Aemon XV

Aemon stood looking out over his balcony in his quarters at King's Landing, a now favorite pastime. The brutal heat of King's Landing relented for once and a cool ocean breeze ruffled his hair as he breathed in the air. The world felt like it had taken a surreal quality in the four days since they had returned from Dragonstone. The ocean and sky both appeared far too blue and cheerful. The seas were calm and the Keep was quiet. The scenery was in odd contrast to the turmoil inside of him.

He had come back to King's Landing with two letters from the Night's Watch waiting for him and he nearly tore them in two in his haste. He sank to the floor in shock as he read the news:

King Aemon Targaryen, First of His Name…and the First men

I am delighted to inform you that your Uncle Benjen Stark has returned from his exploration into the far north bearing a gift and news of great import.

Craster has been executed. As per your advice, he was discovered to be sacrificing the son of a daughter-wife. The child was rescued but unfortunately succumbed to the cold. Craster was beheaded and now his daughter-wives are running the household. They will be left in peace for the time being.

Mance Rayder, the King Beyond the Wall, was intrigued by your letter and is interested in a meeting. He will begin to move all of the clans further south, closer to the Wall to facilitate your meeting.

No doubt the strangest burden Benjen brought back is a living being that looks like a deceased wildling. Its eyes glow blue and it struggles against its bonds. This is the wight you were talking about? The Night King is responsible for this abomination? May the Old Gods have mercy on us.

I understand you wish someone to escort this creature south to show it to the southron lords. I will arrange for a ship to leave Eastwatch-by-the-Sea with an escort for the creature.

I received a letter recently from you that you have a wealth of prisoners bound for the Wall. We look forward to adding more trained members to our ranks. Ser Boros Blount and Ser Mandon Moore have been commendable assets in our time of need.

Jeor Mormont, 997th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch

Aemon took a moment to breathe as he absorbed the news: his Uncle Benjen survived after all and he had a wight! He didn't expect all of the southron lords to fall in line immediately, but he imagined it would do a great deal to align the other lords' interests with his. They would finally be able to prepare once they knew what was at stake. However, he knew it would be some time before they saw the wight. It had taken two months sailing in the time before and they had taken the wight back to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, whereas it seems that Benjen brought the wight back to Castle Black. There was still quite a lot of waiting to be done, but he could finally take his first steps towards preparing the kingdoms for war against the Long Night.

The next letter was from his great uncle Maester Aemon. He felt a pang when he recognized the beautiful writing of Samwell Tarly, no doubt transcribing on behalf of his uncle.

King Aemon, First of His Name...and the First Men

When we last spoke, you were an earnest young man driven to unite the Seven Kingdoms. I am so proud of what you have accomplished in your short time as King. You show a clear-headed calculation and planning that reminds me of your father. He would be proud.

On that note, I do not think I need to caution you in some of your more spurious interests. You know what happened to your father. Do not pursue these passions to the point of neglecting your role as king or your allies. Some things may never be and that is okay.

I am sure you're aware of what happened the last time Targaryens attempted to hatch dragon eggs. It led to the tragedy at Summerhall where your great great grandfather King Aegon V, my brother, attempted to hatch eggs. Your father was born the same day that tragedy struck. As I was a Maester by that time, I have little knowledge of the exact events. However, your grandfather seemed certain that the key to dragon hatching lies in the Targaryen House words: Fire and Blood. One Maester Gyldayn recalled pyromancers being present for the egg hatching. The eggs received both their fire and blood and failed to hatch. But this presumes that the eggs were real and either not dead or merely replicas. I have my doubts about their legitimacy.

I do believe my brother King Aegon the V may have become touched in the head as he aged and it is possible he was sold a lie when he came into the possession of his 'eggs.' As you are sound of mind, your description of the egg suggests to me that it may in fact be real as that is unlike anything I have ever seen or heard. There are accounts from past Targaryens when dragons still roamed the lands that describe eggs like the one you mentioned.

Read up what you can on dragons, Your Grace. Plan just as carefully this hatching as you did your alliances to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. There is one, Maester Marwyn, who has an ongoing interest in dragons and the magic they bring into the world. I recommend you summon him to King's Landing. He is not your average Maester; he seeks only the knowledge regarding dragons and to foster it. I'm afraid you cannot rely on him either for your healing or your counsel for governing.

Long may you reign

Maester Aemon of Castle Black

He felt his heart racing and glanced over at the egg still sitting in the fire grate. He had been both disappointed and relieved to discover the dragon had yet to hatch. It was important that he be there for the hatching, but it did mean that the heralding of the red comet was likely not responsible for hatching Daenerys' dragons. Perhaps her hatching was by good fortune alone?

Fire and blood, he thought. He could see why his great great grandfather King Aegon V would hold those words as the key seeing as there was little else to go by. He had, in fact, introduced the research opportunity to Tyrion who took the project with gusto and was happily in the library drawing up a report of what he could find.

Maester Marwyn, he wondered. He had not heard of this fellow from the time before. He would have to make inquiries. Even if Marwyn had little clue about hatching eggs, he would have better information about tending to and raising dragons.

The next event of note that had happened since his return to the Keep was the arrival of his cousin's betrothed Margaery Tyrell. He had waited outside in the Courtyard with Ghost, Robb, Greywind, his Uncle Ned, and her family excluding Ser Loras. He was still confined to their apartments. It was difficult to hide his amusement at Robb's obvious nervousness as he shifted from one foot to the other. He also went back and forth in a loop about whether to clasp his hands in the front or the back, before finally settling on the back.

Her carriage was almost as ornate as Queen Cersei's when she arrived to Winterfell, with scrolls and designs carved in filigree. Unlike Cersei, when she stepped out her smile lit up the Keep and there was a palpable excitement in her stroll. She wasted no time in waiting for cousins to unload and dropped into a deep curtsy in front of him.

"Your Grace, I am humbled and honored to finally meet you. Word of your success has already reached all corners of the Seven Kingdoms. I am impressed at your cunning and ingenuity to unite the Seven Kingdoms bloodlessly. Such an accomplishment is unheard of," she said in an awed voice.

Aemon struggled to keep from smiling. He had heard Margaery Tyrell was beautiful, but he felt even that words failed to encompass her stunning countenance. Though while he would agree with her beauty, he was still grateful to not be marrying her. Though her compliments were welcome, they were too flowery. He would describe them as deliberately disarming and she appeared about as vacuous as Sansa had before she had lost her innocence. By contrast, he had left his first encounter with Dany under the distinct idea that he had done nothing to impress her. Compared to her accomplishments at the same age and under more trying circumstances, she had risen to queen without it being granted to her, Aemon had felt diminutive and it fostered in him an ache to prove himself.

"Rise, Lady Margaery. And welcome to King's Landing," Aemon replied, taking her hand and planting a kiss on it with a smile.

Next to him, Robb had been standing stiff as a startled deer and then wilted as Margaery showered her king with compliments. However, his smile returned as soon as she turned her attention to him and she beamed.

"Lord Robb, isn't it? Lord Jaime did not lie. You do have the Tully looks. You're as handsome as your cousin the king."

Robb drew himself up and also planted a kiss on her hand. "My Lady, you are as radiant as the sun. Lord Jaime's description of you does not do you justice."

Aemon gave his cousin a startled look. "Jaime waxing poetic about a woman's beauty? I think not. You must've heard that from elsewhere, cousin."

It was difficult to contain his laughter when Robb pursed his lips at him in annoyance. He couldn't say anything against his king out of propriety and even his scathing look was tame. Margaery laughed.

"Now who is this?" Margaery asked, looking down at Greywind.

"This is my direwolf, Greywind. He's gentle, I promise. Hold your hand out to him."

The direwolf was panting placidly. He gave her a cursory sniff and licked her hand.

"What a charming wolf! It's so fascinating meeting a beast that is your house sigil. Sometimes I wish our sigil was an animal. Maybe a horse or a bird."

"Well, your house sigil will be an animal once we marry."

"I look forward to it, Lord Robb!"

She moved onto the next man. "Lord Stark, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. The whole kingdom knows of your honor. It was a great and courageous thing to protect your nephew. I'm sure the Gods, new and old, both understand as we would not be enjoying this unprecedented time of peace otherwise.

Uncle Ned was startled, but then smiled and said, "Thank you for your kind words, Lady Margaery. Winterfell, and the North, look forward to your presence. The weather may be chill, but I hope you will find our hearths warm."

"You are too kind, Lord Stark," she said with a small curtsy.

"Father, brother!" She finally walked over and embraced them both. "Willas, you appear to be thriving in King's Landing!"

"It gladdens my heart to see you, sister. I hope the journey wasn't too arduous."

"I had my cousins to keep me entertained."

"What did you think I was referring to?" Willas said and she laughed merrily once more.

"Ah, here is the new young king," An old woman dressed in finery ambled over to them. She curtsied to the best of her ability, but eyed him like she was inspecting the authenticity of a gemstone. "Your Grace, it pleases me to finally meet you. There are too many men who first reach for the sword. I would also like to commend you on uniting the Seven Kingdoms bloodlessly."

"Thank you, My Lady," Aemon said with a cautious smile.

"Ah, where are my manners. I am Lady Olenna Tyrell, the mother of the fat one there." She pointed to her son who swelled in indignation.

It was a struggle to keep from laughing. "A pleasure, My Lady. I hope your trip was uneventful and that you find rest and enjoyment here in the Keep."

"Thank you, Your Grace. Now, let's see here. You are Robb Stark? Not bad. You have the Tully eyes and hair. A handsome lad, Margaery. You could do worse. You Starks have a reputation. I don't think I need to tell you, but I expect my granddaughter to be treated with the respect due to a lady. Understand?"

"Err...yes, My L-lady. I assure you, she will be in good hands." Robb's eyes bulged in alarm but he took her hand all the same and planted a kiss on the back of it.

Margaery laughed. "Grandmother, please! I am sure Robb will treat me like a queen. Isn't that right?"

"Of course! My Lady, would you care for a walk in the gardens?" Robb asked, his hand held out to her.

"I would be delighted," she said with a wide smile. "By your leave, Your Grace?"

He waved them along, staring at them. They already look like lovesick fools. He hoped he didn't look quite that moon-eyed when he finally met Daenerys and he was certain he would do a better job of keeping his dignity. It really hadn't been love at first sight thankfully. They had actually grown to appreciate one another.

"She will be a spark of warmth for the North in the long winter. I thank you for the alliance that made this marriage possible," his uncle said, turning to him.

"They do appear to be a perfect match," Aemon replied.

Lord Mace Tyrell puffed up like a prized rooster. "Indeed, I am satisfied with this arrangement. I think it will be most beneficial for both parties, Your Grace!"

"What I care most about is my sister being happy. I have spoken with Robb a number of times and he appears to be a thoughtful, earnest man who will treat Margaery well," Willas said. "I know she will be in good hands."

"Oh please! You sound like a bunch of preening roosters. I have better things to do than listen to you gladhand. You there! Don't keep an old woman waiting. It's time for a luncheon."

He dismissed himself and laughed quietly. She was just as feisty as Jaime had told him. He wondered briefly what a meeting between her and little Lyanna Mormont would be like.

His smile fell away though as he thought on yet another wild girl with a sharp tongue. Arya was little more than a week out and then she would finally arrive. He hoped that perhaps she might have forgiven him for his audacity, but knowing Arya it was a vain hope. But soon he would have the chance to set things right by informing her that her betrothal was broken. With any luck, he would be able to return that mischievous smile to her face in a matter of days.

He was pleased to see his uncle and the Tyrells getting along and hoped that the rest of the North would embrace the future lord paramount's bride with equal enthusiasm. It did not escape him that Lady Catelyn had and continued to feel the bite of a cold welcome. Perhaps her ire towards him wasn't all her fault, but she still had a choice in how she treated him.

Aemon excused himself and headed to the godswood. He struggled to keep his head up, but he felt a pang in his heart. Not even when he had been in Dragonstone had he felt the pain of heartsick so acutely. Seeing Robb and Margaery's happiness made him ache for Dany and he'd had no news regarding her wellbeing at all. What little they knew from Varys was three months old at best and if everything had followed as last time, then she would be suffering from great losses at this moment and he was not there to assist and comfort her!

He prayed for her safety in front of the heart tree and that Ser Barristan reached her with all haste. It had been only a month since the old knight had left on his quest and it was estimated it would take nearly three months to reach Qarth alone.

Back in his quarters, he paced. Ghost watched him from atop the bed, panting in the heat. Aemon glared at the egg sitting in the fire grate, willing it to give him the answers he so desperately sought.

A knock drew his and Ghost's attention. "Your Grace, Lord Alexandratos has arrived," Ser Meryn Trant said through the door.

"Let him in."

The musician appeared a little bright-eyed and walked cautiously into the room. He stepped just inside the door, bowed and said, "You summoned me, Your Grace?"

"Yes, thank you for coming. You need not worry. It's for a harmless reason," Aemon replied with a chuckle.

Cyrus' nervousness melted away immediately and he bowed his head again. "How may I serve you, Your Grace?"

"Lord Jaime tells me that you are interested in my father's harp."

There was a clear anxiety in his eyes, but he kept it under his control. "I rescued it from the Ironborn that attacked him. I had no way of knowing it was yours! I apologize, Your Grace."

"You gave it back. That's what matters. But he seemed to be under the impression that you could play it."

"Uh, yes, Your Grace. I am fluent in all of the major string instruments: harp, cello, violina,* and bass."

"Would you be willing to play my father's harp for me? I've never heard it."

The surprise and awe dawned on Cyrus like his only wish had come true. "I would be glad to, Your Grace."

Aemon pulled the case out from under his bed and handed it to him. He watched as the musician ran his hands over the case, before popping the latch and opening it. Cyrus glanced at him again, as though asking permission, and then at a nod he pulled out the harp and plucked each of the strings. Aemon winced and felt his heart shudder at the warped sound. It had only just been restrung! Surely its strings weren't yet so terrible. He watched with fascination as Cyrus began adjusting the knobs at the top and was surprised to hear the strings come back to some semblance of a beautiful sound. It took time. He watched in fascination as Cyrus carefully plucked and tuned every string, seemingly listening for a note that Aemon couldn't hear.

He breathed when Cyrus ran through each of the strings to produce its melodious sound that he had heard on occasion.

A thought then seemed to come to Cyrus and he cleared his throat, "Oh, hmm, Your Grace, David heard you had summoned me, he asked me to give this to you. It pertains to the request to send more healers from the Citadel." He pulled out a piece of folded parchment and held it out to him.

Aemon took it with some curiosity and unfolded. There were two pieces of parchment. The first one was one simple sentence:

Lord Petyr Baelish has tapped my man Vicente to spy on his behalf.

He shivered. Already up to your old tricks again, I see, he thought. Cyrus had thankfully moved to a chair within the room and began dragging his fingers across the strings. A peaceful, gentle tune filled the room that was in contrast to the constricting fear that Aemon felt around his heart. He walked over to the fire in the grate and tossed the first parchment in.

His eyes moved to the egg. If his dragon hatched now, it would be vulnerable. Dany had had trouble with interlopers trying to steal the dragons as babies. While they were worth more alive than dead, he shouldn't risk the dragon's safety considering its importance. Maybe it's for the best to keep it in the egg for the time being. He had to survive Baelish first.

The other parchment was indeed a letter to the Citadel to request healers be transferred to the Keep. Aemon was keen to keep his people happy, but he could see the healer was at his wit's end dealing with all of the commoners who desperately needed help. David was looking for trainees to learn his craft and hoped to offer it to any hopeless students at the Citadel. He had mentioned to Aemon that the Citadel would be less than thrilled to lose students for his cause, so Aemon himself vowed to write to the Citadel as well. The Citadel relied on money from the nobility and the throne to keep running; he could use that leverage to encourage the Citadel to fulfill this request.

He sat down at the writing desk in his room and allowed himself to sink into the brief, pleasant moment as the music swirled around him. Then he began to write.

* - Violina is a word that doesn't exist. I just felt like five-string violin was a really boring name for a combination violin/viola.