A/N: Longclaw: Well... what can I say? Med School has been tough, but we got this one out.

Bruh: It's been a really long time. Longer than usual. But we have some other shit going on, unfortunately.

But, enjoy.

Chapter 54: The Best of Us

Rapping on the door, only the persistent knocks pulled Jon's gaze from the frail Maester Aemon. "Sam, what is it?" It was far more curt than he wished, but such was his mood.

It was Sam, and the acolyte entered with as much apology on his face as could be allowed. "Forgive me, Jon, but I was informed by a rather surly-looking Dothraki bloodrider that you were being summoned to the Small Council chamber. By the… um… Queen." A slight flash of ire crossed his face, but it was momentary.

Or Jon just decided to ignore it with his own wince. "Fucking Small Council."

A curse that Aemon did not fail to notice. "What… what is the matter, Jon?"

Jon sighed. "They think I am a threat to her Grace. To Daenerys."

"That's… strange, I suppose, though among those high in the courts of royalty it is commonplace to see plots under every nook and cranny." He coughed slightly, hacking up a bit before resuming even breathing. "There usually are, as one plot against my dear brother led me to choose Castle Black, to protect him. As for you, Jon, I know that you love my dear niece."

"I do, I promise."

"As I said, I believe you." A bony hand patted his. "But few know you as I do, or as my niece does."

Nodding, Jon gestured for Sam to wait a moment. "Lady Missandei is the one person to believe Daenerys and I." He didn't acknowledge Theon. He did try to save him from Naharis after all. Which to Jon meant he'd be extra loyal. He did try to save him from Naharis after all. "Ser Garlan cares not, while Ser Barristan and especially Lord Varys are skeptical."

"From how you're speaking, Lord Tyrion is another case entirely."

"If he could have me sent back to Stannis or made a hostage again, he would."

"Be careful… I suspect that he is more like his famous father than he'd wish to admit. Ruthless, yet not as stupid or blinded by lust as that sellsword." He pursed his lips. "Be careful, Jon. A Lannister of Lord Tywin's generation is not one to take lightly. He'll do anything to maintain his position as advisor to the Queen… or perhaps there is a fair bit of lust involved."

Jon's fist clenched. "He should tread more carefully around me."

Aemon snorted, grinning toothlessly. "It won't be as obvious when he makes his move, you should be cautious." He squeezed Jon's hand again. "Don't let Daenerys go, Jon. She's never been happier, and nor have you. Promise me that."

Smiling, Jon squeezed his bony fingers in return. "I will do my best, Maester Aemon. Hopefully, we aren't ripped from each other. But not if I can help it."

"I must say, nothing should surprise me anymore given what I have seen," spoke Tyrion, clicking his tongue. "But this has. I didn't expect to see you alive and breathing again, Jorah Mormont."

Jorah shrugged his shoulders, never an expressive man even before his death. "And yet I am here. Another miracle in the world graced with such by our Queen." Daenerys, noticed by all, seemed quite happy. Jorah had returned to her and all knew how close they were in spite of… what had happened. Missandei, and to a lesser extent Tyrion, knew such a mood was because of both Jorah's return and her relationship with Jon Stark.

Clearing his throat, Barristan tapped on the painted table. "This is merely a formality, but the charges of treason against Ser Jorah…"

"He has been pardoned," Dany spoke definitively. "He has more than atoned for said crime." Jorah nodded gratefully.

"So, Ser Jorah, how exactly did you escape death by greyscale, again?" Tyrion asked.

"The Lord of Light rescued me. With the help of Lady Kinvara and Lady Melisandre, of course, they revived me and nursed me back to health," Jorah replied, motioning to the priestesses standing behind him.

"You are a follower of the Lord of Light now?" Barristan asked.

Jorah closed his eyes and sighed. "Sometimes it feels surreal, but yes. He healed me. I owe him my life, naturally. Yet I am not a zealot."

Kinvara nodded. "Ser Jorah understands, as do I, that the Lord of Light stands firmly with Queen Daenerys and her quest. That his role shall be that of the bridge between her Grace and His followers."

"Are you sure of that, Priestess Kinvara?" Tyrion rubbed his beard. "Lady Melisandre there believed that Stannis Baratheon was the Lord of Light's chosen…"

"In prophecy… there is room for misinterpretations," Melisandre replied, interrupting Tyrion.

He didn't react. "And forgive me for I do not claim to be a religious scholar, but wasn't Jon Stark brought back by the very same God? Would that make him the favored of R'hllor according to your beliefs?"

Daenerys narrowed his eyes, understanding where Tyrion was going, but it wasn't her place to respond. It was Kinvara's, as high priestess. She only smiled softly, speaking in that innocent, girlish voice of hers. "The fact that he is here and not with the Stag King gives credence to the Lord's plan for both of them."

"But he was saved as was Ser Jorah. Does he not owe his life to your God as well?" Tyrion smirked.

"Such is the choice I made," Jorah said with a small shrug. "However, if that is the case then this Jon Stark does owe his life to R'hllor as well and should act accordingly."

"I don't think Jon Stark is quite living an existence R'hllor would be proud of, Ser Jorah," Tyrion said, enjoying this.

"Oh?"

"Lord Tyrion, Enough," Daenerys called out. "We are not here to discuss Jon Stark."

"Pardon me, Your Grace, but I thought your most trusted sword should be brought up to speed on the current affairs of this castle. Your relationship with Jon Stark—"

"I said enough!" Dany raised her tone. That did silence Tyrion.

"Lord Tyrion," Lady Melisandre began. "Jon Stark is a man of great interest to R'hllor. Such is why he granted him new life when it was taken too soon. He has great plans for him."

"I see. If what you say of the Lord of Light is true, then such would explain the pull of their relationship." He glanced at Daenerys. "Even against our objections."

Daenerys glared, but Jorah furrowed his brows in confusion. "I've missed much since my departure, but all I have heard of Jon Stark was that he fought on the side of Stannis and was defeated." Kinvara didn't keep him fully in the dark, nor did the Citadel.

While Tyrion remained silent, Varys cleared his throat. "He is officially the representative of Stannis Baratheon for peace negotiations. Other than that…" he looked at Dany. "It is not my place to speak."

He could only assume the worst, but Jorah would not judge without knowing - nor think badly of his Queen. "I might like to meet this Jon Stark," Jorah said.

"Oh? Then why don't we send for him?" Tyrion said.

Finding no way out of this, Daenerys signed and summoned her bloodriders. "Qoy Qoyi, see to it that Jon Stark comes here. Gently." Rokharro nodded and was soon out the door.

While they waited, Jorah leaned into Dany. "My Queen, what is the importance of Lord Jon Stark?"

Daenerys sighed. "He is as Varys said… someone, I trust."

"Ned Stark's bastard?"

"Yes."

"Stannis' former commander?"

"Yes, but not anymore. He is… in pursuit of peace."

"One can be that and still be against you." She said nothing. "Is there a reason for you to trust him?" Again, she said nothing. Staring ahead at nothing in particular until the door opened and revealed the man they were waiting for.

Jorah watched Jon enter the room. Immediately he noticed his physical body, the strength he possessed. He was surprised to see Jon's eyes dart in his direction. But not at him, but to Dany, standing next to him. Then he peered over at Dany, scanning her face, a slight smirk appeared. Perhaps the 'relationship' Tyrion mentioned did exist. That idea was further compounded by the sheer amount of time they looked at each other and nothing else.

Whether dangerous or advantageous Jorah couldn't say. Just that whatever the relationship was held critical importance.

Finally, Jorah decided to approach Jon. Mere seconds after Jorah's first step in his direction, Jon's eyes widened slightly, then sized Jorah up. Everyone watched them closely. To be cordial, Jon met Jorah halfway, extending his hand.

Accepting his handshake with a firm grasp, Jorah met his eyes. "I'm Jorah Mormont," he said. "You must be Jon Stark."

"That's me." His brow rose. "You're Jeor Mormont's son."

"I am."

"Your father was a great man. I respected him greatly."

"All of what you said is true, and thank you." He let go of Jon's hand. "We were just speaking about you, Jon Stark."

"Is that so?" Jon said.

"Oh, Yes," Jorah said, releasing Jon's hand and stepping back. "It seems you are the cause of some tension in this castle. Some small council members are not so fond of you." Then he gestured to Dany, "But you remain here because you have seemingly captured the affections of our Queen."

Dany's eyes widened. Jon felt completely taken off guard, yet it lasted but a moment. "You do not waste time, Ser Jorah. Your father was of similar mind." He sucked in a breath. "I must raise an objection, for the 'capturing the affections' is quite reciprocal."

Jorah pursed his lips. "So there are feelings between the two of you." At this point, it was obvious to Jorah. While Jon tried to be stoic, his attitude towards Dany reminded Jorah of himself with Lynesse… and the hidden glances Dany gave Jon were ones he had always wished would be directed at him. Thus, he didn't wait for either to answer. "And yet you side with Stannis."

"I am on the side of peace, and for my home - your home as well - and for the cause your father died for."

"Ah yes, the ice monsters." Tyrion rolled his eyes. "Stipulating that they actually exist, the victory of her Grace enables the greatest chance to defeat them."

Unlike those of her council, Jorah had grown up with the stories. "I should hope you aren't lying to her Grace."

Jon narrowed his eyes. "Do you think I would lie to her?" He gestured to the others. "They are skeptical, and while I could see how the sworn sword to her Grace would agree with them, I cannot see how the northerner in you would think I lie about the threat beyond the wall."

There was a silence, broken by Jorah. "I don't know what I think of you, Jon Stark." In his life as a sellsword, he had learned several rules in regards to analyzing an adversary or ally. That the true analysis laid in the person's end goal. "While I trust Daenerys' instincts, I can't rule out the possibility of you being here for different reasons than you say. For one, Stannis Baratheon is a ruthless leader who will do whatever is needed to get what he wants. Seeing as he used dark magic to murder his own brother."

"That was only a rumor," Jon said.

Melisandre frowned, "It was not, Jon Stark. It was I that assisted him. Something I deeply regret."

Jorah continued, "Didn't Stannis also destroy large parts of King's Landing costing the lives of thousands of citizens? Remember this is a crime that townsfolk might accuse Your Grace of committing. But no, it was the Stag King."

"The wildfire was placed by Cersei Lannister."

Opening his mouth to argue, even Jorah couldn't deny that if he wanted to. "Alright, that's fair. He'll share the credit with her, then." He paused, taking a step closer to Jon. "So the notion that he'd send you, to… seduce our Queen. It isn't out of the realm of possibility. As such, I cannot rule it out."

Jon sighed, "So, you too as well, Ser Jorah."

"I just need to do some more… unearthing," Jorah said. "Consider yourself under watch, Jon Stark. You could be a threat. Or perhaps you are telling the truth. Either way, I must know, for Daenerys' safety…" He looked back at Dany, and then back to Jon. "Bear in mind, Lord Stark, both myself and the Lord of Light believe in the destiny of her Grace. I will not hesitate to strike you down if you end up posing a threat to her."

"Enough, Ser Jorah," Daenerys said.

"It is alright, Your Grace," Jon replied, glancing at Tyrion and Varys before going back to Jorah. "I appreciate a man that states their intentions directly - without room for being misconstrued."

Jorah leaned closer, and almost muttered, "I know you've captured the affections of her. You hold a place I've often desired. Someone tried this already…"

Jon cut in, "Oh, I know. Daario Naharis. Don't worry I'm not him. He's gone now, as you might've noticed. He met his end by the tip of my blade. The fate of many who rise up against me."

Jorah chuckled, "There's that fire out of you I've heard so much about."

"I will you no ill will, Ser Jorah. I am being honest. I want nothing more for Daenerys than her success. See her on the Iron Throne. But it doesn't have to be a bloodbath. No one else has to die," Jon said. "That's why I'm here."

"How noble of you. How dull of you. I thought you were smarter than that. There will always be a bloodbath when someone has something others desire. It has been that way since the dawn of time," Jorah said. "It will continue to be that way."

"It doesn't have to be. We can change things. Daenerys can change things."

Jorah huffed, backing up so everyone can hear him better. "Your Stag King doesn't want change. He won't allow this to end with Daenerys still alive. Your stupid for believing he might. She is always a threat to him. If there's one thing Stannis is good at it's eliminating threats. There is no bigger threat to him than Daenerys."

"What has Stannis done even after victories?" Tyrion spoke up. "He doesn't take prisoners. He burned Olenna. He burned Cersei. Why? Because letting them live was too much of a threat. He couldn't even bear imprisoning them for life instead. His paranoia wouldn't let him."

"In some ways, we must be the same. Eliminating a threat," Jorah said. "Even if Daenerys loves you…" Dany froze. Jon as well. "Even if you love each other, if you have to go, Jon Stark. You'll bloody damn well go."

Jon sighed, wondering if there was any point to this at all. But, he rapped on the door nevertheless. There was only a momentary silence. Tyrion called from the inside, "Come in." When he saw Jon come through the door, Tyrion rolled his eyes. He sat at his small table, a goblet of wine in his fingers. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest," Jon said. Pointing a thumb over his shoulder, "I stood out there for a few minutes deciding if I should even try."

He raised a brow. "Try what?"

"Figure out what it is exactly you have against me," Jon said, closing the door behind him.

Tyrion snorted. "I think I've accurately described what it is exactly I have against you." He sipped at his wine, suddenly wishing he had gone for a really sour vintage that could get him drunk quicker than the expensive sweet wine he had poured for himself. "No one ever accused you of being an idiot, Snow. Naive, yes, but not an idiot."

His eyes narrowed. "Stark. I am Jon Stark."

"Not by birth, Snow, just as I will never escape being a dwarf. Dwarves and bastards, as I once told you… we are alike in that regard. Always trying to get ahead, no matter what we had to do… or who we had to use to get there."

Pulling up a chair, Jon simply sat in it, legs splayed apart and folding his hands together. "And I know you claim that it is the Queen that I use to get ahead… as I assume you used your father's name."

"It was Stannis that you used previously, Snow… and I suppose you are using him still." Tyrion looked closely at Jon, scrutinizing him. "I am no longer the advisor to my House, for apart of me and my brother my House no longer exists as a functioning entity, but there is still Daenerys Targaryen I serve, and you are a threat to her."

"Your allegations towards me have no evidence."

"The evidence exists simply by you being here. Stannis' top commander, his right hand, and the general that essentially won him the Iron Throne from when he was but a common claimant without two thousand bannermen to his name…" Tyrion chuckled. "Any other Lord would've simply bent the knee to our Queen and then plotted against her."

"Sounds like a lot of people that ended up burned alive."

A snort. "As I said, you were never stupid… though you hold a sense of cunning that your father never did."

"You say that as if insulting my father."

"He caused his own death, I'm afraid. When he refused to play by the rules of a game he willingly chose to enter - you win or you die. The honorable people do not win." Again, he chuckled. "I expected you to be like him, like Ned Stark, which is why I didn't see you as a threat when you were a hostage. How you… refused to bend the knee for so long, it reinforced that." Downing his goblet, Tyrion poured some more. "Would you like some?"

Jon shook his head. "I want my mind fully in place for this."

Sighing, Tyrion leaned back in his seat. "You though… now it is as if I am dealing with a different person. Perhaps my father with some moral scruples. Well… he had some, but not many. You have more, but not enough to convince whatever used to be Jon Snow not to seduce the Queen and pretend to be on her side even when officially you are not." He peered at Jon. "What is your angle, Snow? A double agent, feeding information back to Stannis?"

The Lord of Winterfell almost laughed. "What? How can you truly believe that?"

"Let me see what your ravenscrolls say. That should clear up a lot of my confusion."

"You know I can't let you do that."

"Then I think your intentions are malicious."

"Think whatever you want, Lannister."

"I thought Starks were more honorable than to lie and deceive." He chuckled dryly. "What would your father think of you now?"

Jon knew that the person he was before he died would be more furious at the slight of the Stark name. Still, he was upset. Perhaps just not as much as he would be if remembered more of his father. One of the areas of his memory that never truly all returned.

"Lord Tyrion, I had thought we had a good relationship. But it certainly has taken a turn for the worse in recent weeks. I can't say I know why. I understand your perspective, at least. But the last thing I want is to damage Daenerys in any way." He said, then he leaned forward in his seat. "You seem to think I've come to sow discourse and destroy what Daenerys has built." The next bit, he whispered, "Even if I told you I wanted the opposite, would you believe me?"

Tyrion glared up at him, and shook his head, "No, I wouldn't. I'd have a hard time believing anything you say."

"Well, if you can't see yourself believing me," Jon shrugged. "Then perhaps your best course would be to get out of the way."

"You think my knees will buckle under towards you, boy?" Tyrion may have been a dwarf but he carried himself as if he were his more infamous father - just as big an ego. "I'll have you tossed out of this castle on your arse if it's the last thing I do. Perhaps even out of a window if continue pressing me." Tyrion huffed.

Jon leaned back, unperturbed. "The last person threaten met an end that you would wish for yourself, Tyrion. Didn't you see?"

A scowl. "Naharis was a fool, but my… view of him has changed considerably since all of this." In an instant, he saw Jon's expression darken, but he wasn't afraid. He had faced far worse demons than Jon Snow. "Your death was nonsensical, as you were a hostage and it could've unraveled her Grace's reputation, but only he understood the long-term danger you possessed."

"Long-term danger, you say?"

"The long-term danger her Grace's feelings for you possess, rather." He was nothing if not precise in his language. "As a hostage or a vassal Lord you're an asset, but somehow you've seduced our Queen."

"You really believe that, don't you? That I'm capable of that?" Frankly, to Jon, it seemed something more along the line of what Daario would've done.

Tyrion shrugged. "Your father was not capable, but by all rumors, your mother was of the south. Perhaps Ashara Dayne like everyone speculated." He smirked as Jon's expression darkened even further. "Perhaps such is why you claw high. To seek all above your station as the bastard of a Northern lord. It must be horrid to have never known your mother as I have… yet even I know not the agony of an unknown mother like you." He sipped his wine. "Does that drive you, Snow? Is that why you seek the warm cunt of our Queen just before you stab her in the back?"

Shaking his head, the Lord of Winterfell found such vacillating between grievously insulting of Dany and mildly amusing at the level of madness Tyrion's mind must've contained. A snort passed out of his lips. "Maybe, one day, when all this has passed. I'll forgive you for slighting me in this way. For slighting Daenerys this way. I'll be waiting for your apology," Jon said. "I do understand why you mistrust me. I just thought you'd be able to understand why you're wrong."

Jon began to walk towards the door but Tyrion called after him, "Do you love her?"

Slowly, Jon turned back to him, "Well, I don't think either answer to that question would satisfy you. If I told you yes, you'd probably be filled with jealous rage. If I told you no, your belly would be filled with even more desire to convince everyone I'm a spy. So, I'll leave it up for your imagination to decide, Lord Tyrion." Somehow, an urge to jape came to his mind. "I know your reputation as someone quite… prurient and depraved, so whatever lurid picture your mind comes up with will likely be close to accurate." The tiny grin on his face said all he failed to say out loud.

Tyrion clenched his jaw, looking away as Jon left the chamber. His senses immediately forced him to drink as much wine as possible until he passed out for the night.

"Lady Arya."

She liked Wolkan. Arya found him not as warm as Luwin - who was close to family among House Stark - but he was professional and took his duties as a maester seriously. A loyal maester to the Starks, which surprised her slightly given that he had been first sent to be House Bolton's maester.

As such, she didn't correct him as she would most others. "You asked for me, Wolkan?"

He nodded. "A raven has arrived from Dragonstone, bearing the seal of your brother." Arya's eyes widened. "It bore only your name below the seal as well as some other words that I cannot decipher, so I figured that Lord Stark wished that only you could see it.

Taking the proffered letter, Arya found the seal, her name, and one other line in a sloppy script. One only she could truly decipher. Remember what we said regarding secrets.

"Don't tell Sansa," Arya murmured so that only she could hear it. Snorting, she shook her head at the fond memory… only to gasp and smile. Was Jon remembering? Likely just a fleeting memory, but it was a start. "Thank you, Maester." As Wolkan nodded to her, she left, breaking the seal as she thought on the message. Was it only not to tell Sansa or as a means of keeping it only between them? She decided to keep to caution and treat it as the latter.

Arya,

It filled me with relief to hear from you, though I cannot write as long a message as I would wish. There are those here that keep a close watch on me.

Her eyes narrowed, suspecting perhaps betrayal of the Dragon Queen… no… if it was the Dragon Queen he wouldn't have sent the letter. Her counsel, likely viewed him as a threat if what he alluded to about her and their feelings for each other were accurate. Jon was dipping his toe in the same game as their father did, and Arya prayed that he wouldn't share the same fate.

Walking out into the blistering cold of the outside, Arya continued to read.

Please give Sansa my love and condolences about Podrick. However, I must tell you something. Maester Aemon Targaryen, former Maester of Castle Black, informed me of a story… a legend rather… that matches what you told me of Podrick's death. According to him, he was likely the victim of a warg.

She blinked. "A warg?" Arya murmured.

I have seen these people and how they manipulate and share minds with animals. There have even been a history of them in our house, but only one warg is known to control the minds of men. It is called 'The Raven.'

Arya, burn this letter after you read it, but I need you to do something for me. Only you can I trust to perform…

Reading the request, Arya seemed confused. "Castle Black?" Why was Jon…?

Caw!

Tensing suddenly, Arya looked up to see a raven settled atop one of the battlements, staring down at her with those curious eyes.

Caw! Caw! Caw!

More than one began to flutter in. Feathers fluffed up as they beat their wings in a powerful flurry. At least a half-dozen. Landing on the tile roof, on barrels, even on the snowy ground.

The Raven.

Arya knew not to fear, not since learning the tricks of her trade. On how to be no one. She'd felt anger, sadness… even apprehension and panic but never fear.

Now she felt some like fear. Be it an innate reverence and respect for the metaphysical that Old Nan had instilled in all the brood of Eddard Stark as she had for the brood of Rickard Stark before them, something seemed out of place. Something in Jon's fantastical words felt real… and it shook her.

She rushed inside as quickly as she could without being conspicuous. Memorized fully, the letter found itself tossed into the hearth, carefully written words disappearing within the flickering flames.

"I can't do this…"

"You must."

Biting her lip, Daenerys nodded. She hated feeling weak - that same girl that had been abused and controlled by Viserys and then abused and used as a trophy by Drogo. Stuck in the Red Waste outside Qarth dependent on the schemes of some minor merchant to even survive. Here she was, a Queen of a mighty realm with a massive army and three great dragons, just as terrified.

And she understood why. "He's my great-uncle, my family. The last of my blood still alive." To think that he was dying, that he was close to dying…

Arms wrapped around her and drew her into an embrace. Daenerys immediately reciprocated, latching onto Jon Stark and inhaling his scent. Savoring it. I could kill Tyrion. His insistence had deprived her of Jon's comfort when she most needed it and greedily took what she could get at the moment. At the very least, she had Jorah, but Jon was who she needed now.

"I feel the same way," he murmured into her hair. "He was family to me as well, and it killed me to speak with him knowing that his death was near, but I did so." Jon pulled back, smiling sadly down at her. "You'll never forgive yourself if you don't speak with him before he passes, Dany."

She nodded. "I know." Just as greedily, she leaned up and kissed him on the lips. Short, but filled with promise. "Stay close. Please."

He smiled again. "I'll be just outside, as will Sam in case Aemon needs anything." Jon's hands dropped to her waist, holding her lovingly. "Just call if you need me."

"I will… I love you," Dany murmured.

"I love you too." Unlike most of her council, she believed his every word. Shuddering once his touch departed, she hesitantly moved her hand to the latch and opened it, sparing one last glance at her love before slipping inside.

The chamber was quite warm, two braziers close to the bed while the fire roared in the hearth. Most would feel discomfort, but Daenerys didn't mind, nor did she think Aemon did either given both their blood. She removed her cloak and draped it over an unused chair leaving her only in her black dress and boots. Dany had debated whether to keep her braids, but she and Missy both thought that if Aemon wanted to feel her hair one last time, she should be as authentic as possible… hence how they tumbled freely down her shoulders.

She looked not the Dragon Queen, but Dany - older and wiser, but no less a lonely young woman. Gasping at how frail Aemon looked, even gaunter than she had remembered, Daenerys trembled as she took a seat in the chair alongside the bed. Holding her hands in her lap as she waited for him to wake. Trying not to cry at how her uncle appeared.

Finally, after a length of time Dany couldn't tell if it was a minute or an hour, Aemon began to stir. Lips smacking together, he saw nothing but seemed to immediately notice she was there. "Daenerys?"

Her heart clenched. "Uncle Aemon…" She reached forward, taking his hand. It was cold and thin. "How are you feeling?"

He shifted in the bed. "Not well, yet that has been true for the last three decades. At least I feel warm again after so long." Aemon chuckled, while Dany smiled weakly. "What brings you here, child? I'm sure a Queen has much higher duties than to visit an old man."

She shook her head. "You're my only blood, Uncle Aemon. There is no place I'd rather be than…" Dany trailed off, unable to speak further.

Aemon caught on. "Than at my deathbed, you mean." Taking in a shuddering breath, he placed his other hand over hers. "Daenerys, I've made my peace with the Stranger decades ago. You need not be scared for me."

"It's not that…"

"Ah." He smiled. "You wish not to be alone." Dany bit her lip. "A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing, as were we for the longest time. But you're not alone anymore, Daenerys."

"I will be soon," she murmured, looking away.

"No." His voice was firm. "You are not alone."

"Uncle, my dragons… they are my children, but they are not a human companion of our blood."

"You have Jon." She looked back at him, brow raised. "He… he is a wolf but he is united to you in spirit. I cannot see but I can see it plainly."

Daenerys peered at him. "What do you mean, Uncle?"

Opening his mouth to respond, instead, his body seized as he coughed, though unlike before it came out as more of a wheeze. As if Aemon had no energy even to clear his lungs of whatever irritated them.

Daenerys quickly leaned forward. "Uncle…" she spoke softly, cupping his cheek. "Would you… some water or wine?"

He seemed to be composing himself, even if occasionally he trembled from suppressed coughs. "Aye, water would be lovely." A slow, weak grin spread on his face. "Lost the taste of wine, drinking the mule's piss ale at Castle Black."

Even in this somber time, he made Daenerys smile as she poured water from a jug - from one of the natural springs at the base of the Dragonmont. "I drank fermented mare's milk while with the Dothraki. It is as ghastly as it sounds."

"No doubt, no doubt." Aemon sipped his water and seemed relieved. "Thank you, my dear." It was now he that reached out to cup her cheek, feeling the soft skin and silky hair as Dany closed her eyes. "You are beautiful, my dear. The perfect Queen of our house. One that undoubtedly has many suitors for your hand but picked the perfect one to love."

She had no doubts about that. "Some think it is a mistake."

Aemon frowned but didn't address it directly. "Once, when he first came to Castle Black, I counseled Jon Stark that love was the death of duty." He paused, waiting. "It is true, for what is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms?"

Her mood grew more somber. "A joy I shall never feel." Dany cupped her abdomen, thinking of the babe she had lost and the many she wished to bear with Jon her dreams taunted her with. "Not after…"

"The witch that cursed you?"

A nod. "Yes."

"Pish." He waved it off. "Do not be disturbed by the incantations of illiterate shepherds. Save the worries for enemies that actually pose a threat to you."

"But Uncle… I have not once fallen with a child from…"

"That sellsword, the one that killed Jon and betrayed you?" Her silence betrayed the truth. "Did he have any bastards?"

"Well… not to my knowledge."

"Perhaps then he was the problem. Men can be infertile too." It was well and good that he didn't see the blush on her cheeks, as if she just realized her oversight. She wondered about the many times she and Jon had laid together as well, nothing came of that either. She appreciated Aemon's sentiments. But she wasn't getting her hopes up anytime soon for birthing a child.

"But… but…" He wheezed again. "I… I don't have much time… left to prate about the obvious more than we have. You need… you need this advice, Daenerys. My beloved niece, the blood of my blood."

She gripped his hand again. "I am here, uncle. You have my attention as long as you wish."

He met her eyes… an old habit no doubt, given they no longer saw anything. "I told him… Egg… gods, you are so alike his little girl. My little niece…" Trailing off, Aemon shook his head before continuing. "Daenerys, I told your great-grandfather that he must kill the boy and let the man be born. I told Jon Stark this, and that love is the death of duty… but that is not true for you."

"What do you mean?"

"We… We Targaryens. Our duty is fire and blood. We are fire and blood in our very bones, same as the dragons we once rode and now ride again." He wheezed but continued. "This makes us great, but too much… not madness, but a lust for fire, lust for power. Like Maegor, or those of the Dance. It must be tempered. We must have that which restrains us. Happiness, comfort, love…" Aemon cupped her cheek. "You love Jon."

It wasn't a question, but Dany nodded. "I do."

Aemon smiled. "Then keep it." He started to cough again. "It… will save… you… keep… it…"

"Uncle?" she asked, gripping his hand. "Uncle… Uncle?!" Hearing the rasping breaths, Daenerys' heart began to thump in her chest as fear filled her face. "Uncle! Help!" she called out. Standing to rush for the door. "Uncle Aemon!"

The door threw open to reveal Jon, his eyes focusing on the suffering maester. "Sam!" he yelled, taking Dany in his arms. "Sam, get over here!"

The hurrying acolyte raced over as fast as his legs could carry him, rushing over to Aemon's side and hunched over him. Listening to his breathing. "He needs milk of the poppy, to calm his lungs." Hefting the emaciated Aemon to a more sitting position, one of the maids began to pour a spoonful to dribble into his lips. "But if he sleeps, I fear he won't wake again." Sam gave both Daenerys and Jon a grim expression.

"How long?" Jon asked, knowing he'd regret the answer.

He was right. "I fear he won't see the sunrise."

Wincing, Jon looked to Dany, his eyes giving as much support as they could. The Dragon Queen seemed close to collapse, but her voice was firm when she spoke. "Ease his suffering." Daenerys stared at Aemon with increasing pain in her eyes. "He is a Prince of House Targaryen. He deserves a gentle death."

Nodding, Sam gestured to the maid. "Give it to him… pour the milk slowly into his mouth. Slowly, not all at once." The maid wasn't trained as a healer, but the orders were simple enough and soon Aemon swallowed it all. Already, his breaths were more even. His lungs no longer sounded as if they were ripping paper. Sighing, Sam eased him back into a resting position. "There, he won't be feeling pain anymore."

Wordlessly, Daenerys walked back to where she had been sitting and resumed her seat. Taking Aemon's hand in hers, gently stroking the back with her thumb. The expression on her face was hollow, even when Jon stood behind and pressed his hand on her shoulder. "Daenerys… Dany."

Her pet name on his lips finally coaxed the tears out. How concerned and loving it was… "Jon…"

He heard her agony. "You should get some rest."

Dany shook her head. "No… someone…"

"I can watch him while you sleep. You go."

"He is my family… the last of my family, of my blood. I have to be here, for the both of us."

Feeling him draw his hand away, Daenerys felt even more alone than she was facing the impending death of her great uncle until she heard the scrape of wood upon the stone floor. Finally tearing her eyes away from Aemon's emaciated face, she met Jon's eyes. The Lord of Winterfell placed a chair next to hers and took his seat. He grabbed her free hand and enclosed it in his own. "Aemon is family to me, if not by blood then in spirit… as are you, my love."

Her eyes watered. "You are to me as well." Trembling, Daenerys leaned against him. "Don't leave me. I don't want to be alone."

"Never. I'm here, always." Not another word being shared, they leaned their heads forward. Pressing against each other, eyes gazing into the other. Providing their love as much comfort as possible under the circumstances, together for each other in a way neither had endured during their short yet eventful lives.

"Egg… Shaera… Egg…" Tearing their eyes away from each other, both Daenerys and Jon stared at Maester Aemon. His eyes were lidded and heavy, movements sluggish, but he seemed to slowly thrash about as his unseeing gaze directed outward. Calling for his brother and his niece. "Egg… Shaera… I dreamed… I was old…" Only Jon's presence beside her kept Daenerys from breaking down that moment.

It turned out that Sam was not wrong in his prognosis. The night was a restless one as the news spread like dragonfire through Dragonstone. Missandei dropped what she was doing to tend to her Queen as did Ser Jorah, while Ser Barristan was not far off either with whatever support he could give. Theon Greyjoy came once and spoke to Jon, and the words of comfort from an old friend were appreciated. Varys and Tyrion hovered close, saying nothing even as Daenerys refused to leave Jon Stark's side.

Varys was inclined to say nothing, finding it innocent enough. Tyrion found it dangerous but wasn't foolish enough to object, not with the Queen's only family on his deathbed. But that didn't mean he wasn't watching Jon carefully. "He should spend his time in a play with minstrels for this acting performance."

Overhead, the dragons flew. Unleashing their mournful cries to match the mood of their mother.

All of it wasn't enough.

Daenerys felt heavy emotion rising to the surface. But the room had grown fuller. She didn't want to cry in front of them. Though the sight of Aemon passing away was becoming too great a burden to witness. She squeezed Aemon's hand and said, "You have given me more than you know, Uncle… Rest easy knowing I will carry our House onward…" She let out a shaky breath. "Thank you." Aemon could barely move at this point. However, Dany noticed his head slowly nod in acknowledgment. With that, Dany rose from her seat and walked out to the nearby terrace.

Jon watched her go, the cold wind blowing her hair. He made to follow her but he heard a faint voice call out to him. "Jon…"

It was Maester Aemon. He snapped his head around, sitting forward. "Yes? Maester Aemon, I'm here." Aemon's mouth began to move but the noise coming from his mouth was too quiet for Jon to hear. So, he leaned much closer to Aemon, his ear very close to his mouth.

"Dragons… Wolves… Fire… Ice… You're… more special… than… you… know…"

Jon frowned, raising his head up. He held Aemon's weak hand with two of his. He said, "Rest easy, Maester. You were the best of us." Then he stood. He backed up, watching Aemon. Walking backward all the way until he drew close to Dany out on the terrace. Who immediately grabbed hold of him. Her hands balling fist on the back of his tunic, burying her face in his center.

The small council members watched the scene unfold before them. No one dared speak. Missandei covered her mouth, tears resting on her eyelids. Barristan's face was pressed in a hard countenance. Varys was emotionless. Tyrion kept his eyes on Jon, wondering endlessly what Aemon had just whispered to him.

For when Prince Aemon Targaryen, Maester of Castle Black finally breathed his last and drifted off into the endless sleep, so did Daenerys scream into Jon's chest. She wailed. So did she beat her breast and collapsed in Jon's arms.

Not once did Jon let go of his love, eyes filled with tears as well.

A/N: Bruh: RIP Aemon. It was time for him to pass on.

Jorah is asserting himself. Jon and Tyrion pretty much hate each other. Bran is looming over everything.

Some cool stuff on the horizon. We'll see you again when we see you. Hopefully not over two months from now.

Longclaw: Hope we gave a good sendoff to Aemon, and no one could keep Jon from comforting Dany.

Until next time! Please comment!