Author's Notes: Welcome back for another chapter of TDR! I admit, guys, I knew there was going to be some stunned readers for last chapter, but I hadn't quite expected such a passionate response! I'm glad to hear you all grew attached to Joffrey and I'm sorry his fate pained you. I greatly appreciated appreciated your outpouring of support. Thank you!
I can certainly never forget Catzrko0l. You make the world of TDR go 'round. For that, I salute you!
Discord: See my profile for an invite.
Facebook: The Dragon's Roar (Fanfic)
Twitter: GroovyPriestess
Chapter 145
Aemon LV
Your Grace, King Aemon I Targaryen,
Your cousin Bran Stark and Lady Meera have returned from beyond the Wall. They told me that they were forced to flee when the Night King breached their hiding spot and attacked. They are the only survivors of their party. I have already informed Lord Lannister of the loss of his nephew.
Unfortunately, I still have more grave news. Maester Aemon has taken ill. Given his age and frailty, I fear he may pass before too long. I will be honored to pass along any final words you may have for him.
Aemon didn't even finish the rest of the letter, merely looked up at Dany in alarm.
"We must go to him," she declared fiercely and began roaming their room, grabbing her new winter cloak and clothes.
"I'll have the kitchen pack us food," Aemon said. He then sent Missandei with his orders and quickly began gathering his own winter clothes. As much as he loved the cold, he was not looking forward to flying their dragons in it. But this was far more important than any comfort.
However, there was more news that nagged at him. Bran was back! A conflict with the Night King happened not too long after he'd returned in the time before. It was time to start marshaling the armies and sending them North. Perhaps it was foolish to spend time rushing to his dying great-great-grand uncle, but there was nothing for it. He had promised Dany that she would meet him someday and this could very well be their last chance.
However, there was one thing he could do.
"I will be back shortly. I'm going to write an order or two for Tyrion," Aemon called to Dany.
"We'll finish packing," she replied brusquely.
He strode purposefully to his solar, cursing himself as he fumbled with the keys to let himself in. He grabbed a few pieces of parchment and began writing. It was messy and he had to scratch out a word here and there, but it would have to do. He rewrote it on a fresh piece of parchment, but otherwise forwent decor. He drew a line for his signature and signed it. He lit a candle and pulled out the wax to dribble onto the parchment and inelegantly stamped the Targaryen seal.
Then he turned his focus to a third parchment and hastily wrote a letter to Jaime, commanding him to send out the call and put their plan into action. He stamped it, rolled it, and tied it with string. After locking his solar, he marched over to the Tower of the Hand.
He'd only visited Tyrion a few times, most recently when Dany was pregnant with their son. They'd often drink and debate what to do about the Blackfyre until the early hours of the morning. It was hardly productive, but it had felt good to vent to someone; with Jaime not there, his younger brother filled that gap in his life .
"Your Grace, this is unexpected," Tyrion said as the Lannister guard opened the door to reveal him. He glanced out the window and noticed the darkness of night. "Is something wrong?"
"I've received word from Lord Commander Mormont that Maester Aemon has taken ill. We intend to be there for him," Aemon said, tossing the parchment on his desk. "I charge you with the running of the kingdom in our absence. See that these are delivered to Brunal."
Tyrion gave him a sympathetic look. "I will, Your Grace. Will you … you'll be taking the dragons then, I suppose?"
"Yes," Aemon replied, already heading towards the door.
The dwarf shifted uneasily and grimaced. "Take care, Your Grace. Don't take any chances."
"For the Seven's sake, Tyrion," Aemon groaned.
"You've never taken them overnight. You will be alone, without any kingsguard," Tyrion said.
"Yes, I suspect I will get an earful from Ser Barristan as well. We intend to stay at trusted keeps. Will that suffice?" he replied with a roll of his eyes.
Tyrion sighed. "Very well, I will hold down the fort. Does this include instructions for dealing with the Blackfyre?"
Aemon drew his mouth into a frown. Given the distance between them and the Blackfyre, David estimated that much of the information he received was between four and five months old. If they were to receive the news that he had left Asshai, they could estimate that it would be roughly six months before he made landfall in Westeros and that presumed he didn't stop anywhere else. He misliked the uncertainty, but dragons were quick. Should he suddenly appear, it would not take more than a few days for him and Dany to return.
"Yes, there are. Send a raven to Castle Black and Winterfell should the worst happen. The letter to your brother is to start shifting our forces north to the Wall."
Tyrion inhaled sharply.
Aemon nodded. "I don't expect it will be too much longer now before the Long Night is upon us."
"It has been colder," Tyrion murmured absentmindedly.
There had been a noted sharpness to the air in King's Landing. Given the demand for outfitting the armies, proper winter coats were in short supply. The smallfolk in the area were starting to fall ill. He and Dany felt the pressure to see their people clothed, but it warred against knowing that some of their soldiers still lacked proper gear. Given that the city still needed a guard, those without the gear were expected to stay. But they would still suffer as the chill marched ever southward. It was his earnest hope that the Army of the Dead would never get past the Wall.
"It's time the Alchemist Guild honor their agreement as well. Send them north and make sure they have proper guard."
"It will be done."
Aemon made to close the door, but hesitated. Then he turned and asked, "Dany and I would like a favor as well."
"Name it."
"Check in on Aemma and Daeron. They won't understand."
Tyrion scoffed. "As if I'd do anything else. I owe them a bedtime story twice a week, after all."
Aemon grinned. The children loved Tyrion and snuggled in the chair with him when he settled in to read. There had been a few children's books, but they grew bored of them quickly. Tyrion quickly moved onto fairy tales and history. It honestly astonished Aemon that the history didn't put the children straight to sleep. Neither had any inkling of the families and the moving parts of how events unfolded, but they treated them like their fairy tales anyway. Daeron was especially taken with the adventures of Dunk and Egg; already he wanted to be a knight.
Given the late hour, once they finished gathering their items, they retired to bed. In bed, they spoke about their plan. Neither one of them had gone dragon riding for more than a few hours at a time and no further north or south than the Crownlands. There were keeps that they preferred: Riverrun, Moat Cailin, and, of course, Winterfell. Aemon was confident at least that he could tell Winterfell from the air given the pitched battle he'd waged against the Night King over it. The other castles they were sure to see were bound to be a mystery, but now that the whole of the Seven Kingdoms was united, he wouldn't fear too much for either of their lives. They did at least agree to avoid spending even a single night in the Twins; that was bound to be one of Ser Barristan's stipulations for leaving without the kingsguard.
They arose with the rising sun. Dany dressed in one of her fur-lined outfits, expecting a cold ride in the clouds since autumn was threatening to cede to winter. Their farewell was a gloomy affair. Ser Barristan looked about as temperamental as the children, but he kept his peace better. Aemma and Daeron cried and pleaded, but Daenerys held them in her arms momentarily and kissed them each on the forehead.
"It's only for a few weeks, my loves," she said, in a soothing voice.
"I want to come with you," Daeron cried. He had Dany's silver coloring and purple eyes, but the curls atop his head matched more closely with Aemon's. Aemon ruffled his hair lovingly
"Tyrion will be there to read to you every night," Aemon said.
"Please, Your Grace, I'd ask you not to make promises on my behalf," Tyrion grumbled with a dubious expression.
Aemon gave him a wry smile.
"Why can't we ride the dragons?!" Aemma cried, her lips trembling.
Dany shook her head in gentle exasperation. "It will be quite dull. We'll be flying all day for many days. It'll grow tiresome."
"You will stay at keeps for the nights, won't you?" Ser Barristan asked in an arch tone.
Aemon rolled his eyes. "Of course, of course. We're not inclined to take chances."
Ser Barristan nodded, but his scowl remained fixed on his face.
"You two behave. Listen to your nannies. They, Missandei, and Tyrion will take good care of you," Dany said.
"Come now, love. We must go," Aemon said.
"We love you. We'll be back in a few weeks," Dany said, kissing Aemma and Daeron once more on their cheeks. Aemon helped her gently peel them away and then they mounted their horses and began riding out of the Red Keep. The Bloodriders, Ser Daemon Sand, and Ser Preston Greenfield followed them to the Dragonpit.
As they rode through the city, Aemon whistled for Rhaegal. He got an answering roar and he craned his neck to see a glint of green scales as the dragon wheeled back toward land. Dany reached for the horn at her waist and brought it up to blow a deep sound. She blew it a few times on the way to the Dragon Pit before they finally heard Drogon give his answering cry. He swooped down so low, he feared the dragon would graze the rooftops. He was enormous. Though he still lacked size compared to the likes of Belarion or Meraxes, Dany appeared as little more than a mouse on his enormous shoulders.
Ever since they put on his saddle, Dany insisted on flying him at least once a week. Aemon had been reluctant initially, but he noticed that Drogon seemed to become more responsive over time. When Rhaegal had finally reached a large enough size to ride, he began taking his own flights. They traded off so that one of them could always be in the Red Keep to conduct any necessary duties.
He'd forgotten what it was like to ride a dragon. To feel the wind so sharp against his face and blowing through his hair. Despite his lack of size compared to Drogon, Aemon still marveled at the way Rhaegal effortlessly cruised the air. In the dragon's exuberance, he loved cavorting, diving, and even spinning at times. His Rhaegal from the time before had been far more reserved and he wondered what the difference was. But Aemon couldn't resist whooping for joy as he rode. Gradually, he felt Rhaegal respond more to his touches and though he directed him to spin less, he still ran him through his paces. Rhaegal would need all of the strength and stamina he could manage if the Night King managed to kill another dragon.
Though she had not been called, Rhaellon had watched her brothers turn toward home, so she returned with them. Despite Rhaellon not having been confined like her previous life, she was still marginally smaller than her brother but larger still than Rhaegal. Though Rhaellon was quick to ask for scratches, she still seemed keenly wild compared to her brothers. She was apt to hiss and had started picking more fights with Drogon over the choicest animals, though none of their spats reached the level that their first fight had. The training had done a better job of mollifying Drogon. They still occasionally received distressed letters from lords telling them that Drogon had eaten their best steer.
The worst moment was a letter they received about Drogon burning one of the stablehands alive because he'd attempted to get close to rescue their pig. They'd admonished Drogon for the crime—whatever good that did—increased the compensation, and wrote a personal apology signed by them both.
Dany approached the dragons. Both Drogon and Rhaellon craned their necks for a scratch. This was the one thing they agreed not to snap at the other over as Dany scratched both of their brows.
"It's time for an extended flight," Dany said. "We'll be heading north."
Rhaegal still acted too much like an excitable puppy, nearly bowling him over, but he at least was far less clumsy than he used to be as a baby. Aemon patted his cheek and then walked over and climbed into the saddle. Dany was not far behind.
"Up you get," Aemon commanded and Rhaegal leapt into the air. Aemon looked back toward the ground and marveled at how quickly the kingsguard and bloodriders became the size of ants as they climbed. They circled in the sky for a moment as they got comfortable and were not surprised in the least when Rhaellon joined them. Given that she was still not beholden to anyone, it made little sense to command her to stay.
Aemon found his bearings and pointed Rhaegal north. The land quickly rolled away beneath them and it wasn't long before the Red Keep was entirely out of sight. He breathed a sigh of relief. In his previous life, he hadn't truly been able to enjoy traveling by dragon since he'd had to stay with the army and march at their pace.
This may not take longer than a couple of days, he thought.
They stayed below the clouds so that they could make note of identifiable landmarks. At one point they heard a rumble of thunder and were forced to veer east to avoid a storm.
When the sunlight started to wane, they dropped the dragons lower so that they might more easily spot a castle. Aemon noted a series of snow-capped peaks in the distance. He was fairly certain it was the Mountains of the Moon, where the Eyrie sat perched. He was not keen to be hosted there after his previous visit. He wouldn't have to deal with Lord Robin Arryn given that he was still being fostered at Runestone. He had Rhaegal peel eastward in the hopes that they might travel far enough to stay with Lord Royce.
He squinted and saw a castle sitting atop a hill with a few deeply carved valleys where water collected in a crescent around the castle. In the light of the setting sun, its walls shone red. When they touched down, the castle came alive. Aemon was disappointed, though not surprised, to find they'd landed at Castle Redfort. Despite Aemon's and Dany's protestations, the Lord and Lady Redfort insisted on a feast.
They had a pleasant evening talking with Lady Ysilla Redfort nee Royce, Ser Mychel Redfort's wife. He'd recently been tapped to replace Lord Willas as Master of Laws. He'd only arrived barely a week before his and Dany's current venture. Lady Redfort intended to join him when he was officially appointed. Until then, she relayed to them the happenings of her brother. Lord Andar had married Lady Amarei Belmore and celebrated the birth of their child, a son named Yohn.
They begged their rest and were up once more at dawn. The sun was just peeking over the horizon when they took to the air. Aemon took them on a more northerly course so that he could navigate more easily by the view of the waterways. He cast a wary eye at the Eyrie and stayed well clear of it, though they easily were able to fly over the Mountains of the Moon.
At some point around midday, it began to rain, so Aemon angled the dragons higher in the hopes of getting above the cloud cover, but he found it too difficult to breathe and went lower once more. Instead, he tried to guide them out of the rain. It was miserable flying. The dragons seemed equally uncomfortable as Rhaegal flapped his wings harder to go faster.
Aemon squinted as he caught sight of a large bay coming into view and was certain it was the Bite. It meant they were near Moat Cailin. He steered inland, looking for where the Bite met the Neck. North of that would be Moat Cailin.
The sun was already quite low in the sky. He eased Rhaegal closer to Daenerys to shout over to her, "I want to see if we can reach Moat Cailin tonight."
"Is it far?" she cried back.
"Not too much further, I don't think," he said. I pray to the Old Gods I'm right, he thought. Otherwise, they were apt to be forced to camp for fear of not finding a Keep in the pitch of dark.
It was just becoming dark enough to barely see when he was certain he'd spotted Moat Cailin. He started angling Rhaegal towards the larger pool of light. He saw the single road surrounded by an otherwise impenetrable forest. It was going to be tight, but the dragons were at least still skinny enough to fit if they tucked their wings.
The landing was hard and their presence caused no small amount of alarm, but given they were the only two dragon riders, it took only a few words to set the men on the wall at ease. Aemon wouldn't admit to Dany how relieved he was when Lord Tallgard greeted them. He had chosen to modify his surname as a cadet branch of his older brother, Lord Helman Tallhart.
"Your Graces, this is a most pleasant surprise."
"Lord Tallgard. Pardon the intrusion, but we require a bed for the evening," Aemon replied.
"Just the one night?"
"Yes, I am afraid there's urgent business at the Wall." At the sight of Lord Tallgard's alarm, he quickly said, "Not of that nature yet. Lord Lannister will let you know when the armies have begun to assemble."
"Very well, Your Grace. Do come in! Your clothes are wet. Greta, make sure the king and queen's clothing is laundered and dried by morning."
Given the short notice, Lord Tallgard did his best with his meager offerings, which Aemon and Dany were immensely grateful for. Despite doing little more than riding and maneuvering, they were exhausted and fell into their beds. They were up at dawn again and Lord Tallgard insisted on a hot breakfast.
"A snow storm is brewing, Your Grace. It may be better for you to stay until it blows over," he said gravely.
"We can't wait that long," he replied, but he was concerned. Dany had never even seen snow in her entire life. He remembered only one time when Dany had ridden all day in their life before and she hadn't run into any snowstorms as far as he was aware. Still, when he looked at her, she was the very picture of defiance. "I suggest you wear your thick scarf. This is not going to be pleasant."
She nodded. Once they were bundled and fed, they climbed aboard their dragons again and took to the sky. He immediately noticed the recent dusting of snow. Unfortunately, they had no time to marvel at it.
At first, Aemon tried to follow the road out of Moat Cailin since it would take them right past Winterfell, but barely an hour into their flight, the flurries began falling. It was gentle snow, where the wind was still, but he didn't expect that to last. He wistfully gazed in the direction where he expected Winterfell to be and then peeled Rhaegal northeastward in the hope that they could at least stay on the gentler side of the storm. He knew that could just as easily change the further north they flew.
If the snow came to be too much, he was prepared to stay at either the Dreadfort or Last Hearth. His stomach curdled at the thought of being in the presence of a Bolton, but he worked to quash that feeling. Domeric was not his father, just as he hoped he was not judged for his grandfather's and father's actions. He owed him that courtesy at least.
The snow continued to thicken and he was forced to squint even more against the ferocious wind, causing tear tracks to trickle from his eyes and freeze on his cheeks despite the scarf he wore. But as soon as he caught sight of the Wall, all thoughts of seeking shelter were driven from his mind. The sky was deepening into twilight, but they were close. He waved at Dany to grab her attention and pointed ahead.
She nodded in return. Night had nearly fallen by the time they reached the Wall. They then had to fly west for a quarter of an hour before they saw the towering mass of Castle Black, only noticeable by the dozens of torchlights underneath. He circled, looking for a spot to land and thought better of coming down in the yard and so landed just outside the front gate. They were already opening by the time he was dismounting.
"Your Graces," Ser Alliser Thorne came out to greet them and bowed low.
Aemon didn't think he'd ever become accustomed to Ser Alliser of all people giving him his loyalty.
"Ser Alliser, we've come to see Maester Aemon," he said curtly.
"Yes, Your Graces, this way."
Aemon then looked to Dany. Her eyes were red from crying, likely from the wind. She gave him a tired smile, but then grabbed his gloved hand and squeezed it.
"We made it," she whispered.
He nodded. Ser Alliser acted like Maester Aemon was still alive. He pulled their packs from the dragons and followed after Ser Alliser Thorne, who barked an order for someone to carry the king and queen's belongings.
"Your Graces, this is unexpected," Lord Commander Mormont said, with a terse frown. "I hadn't anticipated you being here and so quickly too."
"The dragons make that possible. Dany has always wanted to meet Maester Aemon and we would be remiss to forgo this opportunity. He is still alive?" Aemon asked.
"He is, though only just. Samwell Tarly is taking care of him. The Citadel has already answered our summons for another maester. It will be several months though," the Old Bear said.
"Forgive my rudeness, Lord Commander Mormont, but this is my wife, Queen Daenerys," Aemon said, a touch impatiently. It seemed foolish to bother with such pleasantries when his great-great-granduncle lay near death.
"Your Grace," Lord Mormont replied, bowing deeply to her. "Word of your beauty has reached even our ears and yet does you no justice."
Dany pulled down the scarf from her mouth and smiled at him. "I thank you for your compliments, Lord Commander. I wish the circumstances of our meeting were under better circumstances. If you would please escort us to Maester Aemon."
Aemon noticed a tightness to her eyes that he didn't quite understand, but he shrugged it off as the Old Bear turned to lead them inside. He did cast his eyes about to take in the scene, noting the disassembled catapults, the training of the men, and the ever-present banging of the blacksmith's hammers.
Jeor led them down a hall on the first floor and after only a short time, he stopped and knocked. When he saw Aemon's confusion, he said, "We moved Maester Aemon here some time ago as he began to weaken. We feared he might fall down the stairs otherwise. They can be quite slick when the damp ices the stone."
Aemon nodded. He was not unfamiliar with the peculiarities of the Wall, especially not once the cold had gotten deeper.
The door opened and the confused face of Samwell peaked out at them. It took every effort Aemon had to simply smile. The large insecure man was just as he remembered him.
"Luh-lord Commander Mormont," Samwell said, hastily pulling open the door.
"How is he, Sam?"
"Weak," Sam replied, gulping. "He needs at least ten blankets to keep the chill away."
"Is he awake?" Aemon asked.
Samwell gave him a befuddled look.
"Samwell, this is King Aemon and Queen Daenerys," Jeor said.
Sam gasped and bowed. "Yuh-Your Grace, puh-pardon my lack of muh-manners."
"There's nothing to forgive," Aemon replied. "Is he still awake?" he asked impatiently.
"Suh-sort of. He speaks but he talks to people who aren't there."
Aemon and Dany exchanged disquieted looks. He hoped they weren't too late. "May we go in?"
"O-of course, Your Grace," Sam said, stepping back.
Dany went in first, her eyes fixated on the bed. She pulled off her gloves and crouched next to it, taking her grand uncle's hand in hers. "Maester Aemon? It's me. Daenerys. Your grand niece," she whispered.
Aemon stepped inside the room, but he kept his distance. Dany deserved this moment alone.
"Dany?" The feeble voice called out and he smiled feebly. Though his hand shook, he reached up and lightly touched her face. Dany leaned into it, smiling wistfully. "Daella. I imagine you look so much like her. Your voice," he mumbled, "you sound just like her."
"I came as quickly as I could," she said.
"The dragons? Did you bring them here?" Maester Aemon said, his eyes widening.
"Yes, we did," Dany replied.
"I wish I could see them."
She glanced back at them, but Aemon grimaced. Should they try to take him to the dragons? He feared what the chill would do to him in his last moments.
"I, uh, I can reason with Aemon."
"You do that, Daella. I feared the tragedy at Summerhall was all for naught, but at least dragons were born after all."
Dany's face fell, but she swallowed her grief and kept her voice light. "Yes, our ancestors' search for more dragons was not in vain."
She approached them and whispered, "I wish to take him to Drogon and Rhaegal."
"Is that wise?" Aemon asked. "I fear the cold may take him the moment he sets foot outside."
"He's dying anyway. At least we can try," Dany insisted.
He could hardly argue against that. He went back to Sam and Jeor who were waiting outside the door. "Do you have a cart or a wheelbarrow?"
Jeor frowned tersely at him. "You want to take Maester Aemon outside?"
"To see the dragons," Aemon finished. "These are his final moments."
"Will he understand what you're doing?" Samwell asked.
"He appears to be minimally aware. He knows the dragons are nearby."
When Jeor and Samwell glanced at each other uneasily.
"These are his last moments. What harm could it do?" Aemon pleaded.
"I suppose you have a point. I will find a wheelbarrow. We'll line it with blankets and make sure that he will be protected against the cold."
"Thank you," Aemon replied.
With that, Jeor was off.
"I will, uh, I will wait here then," Samwell said.
Aemon only nodded at him and returned to the room.
"I've persuaded Jeor."
Dany gave him a distracted glance before returning her attention to the maester.
Aemon leaned over next to Dany and said, "Maester Aemon, it's me. Aemon, son of Rhaegar?"
"You found the dragons. There need to be three of them, like your father said."
Aemon felt a pang in his heart. It infuriated him that his father deliberately lured his mother away. It was not love, like everyone around him had suggested. There were times when Aemon had been tempted to send Jaime an angry letter, but he'd held back. Not the least because it may be read by the wrong person—and he'd have no patience to translate it to their cipher—but he'd often asked himself: What would this achieve? Jaime had been barely a boy in the Kingsguard and was not one of Rhaegar's trusted confidantes. That honor was bestowed to Ser Arthur Dayne.
He swallowed back his anger once more. There was little point to rehashing old history. If the Gods had cared, they might have changed that, but they clearly hadn't. They only cared about the Long Night, or so he presumed.
It was a welcome distraction when Jeor reappeared with the cart. He and Jeor both peeled off blankets and began lining the cart like it was a nest. When they felt it was reasonably soft, they had Samwell pick up the old maester and put him in, then they hurriedly covered him with the rest of the blankets from the bed. Dany wrapped his head in a fur-lined hat, but was otherwise careful to allow him to breathe.
She led the way as Aemon pulled the cart through the castle and onto the grounds. Jeor had the foresight to order the gate opened, so they only had to pull the cart through. Castle Black's grounds were easy enough to navigate, but outside the gate, the snow had barely been touched. Aemon found himself wading through knee-high. He was sweating fiercely by the time he reached the dragons.
Aemon at first thought the dragons were gone. But then he saw a stirring and eventually Rhaellon's massive form took shape, having nearly blended in with the snow. It was only when she lifted her head that Aemon even recognized her. She rose and started toward them. Drogon and Rhaegal must've been hunting. Apart from their nightly stops, they'd forgone food during the days.
"Easy, Rhaellon, easy," Aemon said, stopping in his tracks. He laid the cart handles down and went back toward the maester, holding his hand out and beckoning her closer.
Dany came up to his side and similarly coaxed the dragon. "Come, Rhaellon, it's okay. Just be gentle."
Rhaellon brought her nose down and huffed. The strength of her breath blew back the covering Dany put on the maester's head. He stirred. He lifted his hand up out of the blankets, but Dany had to take it in hers and guide it over to Rhaellon's snout. When they connected, Maester Aemon broke out into a nearly toothless smile.
"Living fire," Maester Aemon said, barely above a whisper.
A deep rumbling sound issued from Rhaellon's chest. At first, Aemon feared it was a growl, but the longer he listened to it, it sounded more like a cat's purr. He couldn't resist smiling at how gentle she was acting, despite her large size. His smile faded though, when Maester Aemon fell back onto the cart, his hand going limp in Dany's. She leaned over and gently planted a kiss on his head, and rested against it, tears running down her cheeks.
Aemon grabbed for the maester's hand and felt his heart sink by the chill already settling in his skin. At least he knew Dany and a dragon before departing, he thought morosely.
Rhaellon reeled back and made a keening bellow, letting her cries rise to the heavens.
Aemon put a hand on Dany's shoulder. "We best head back in. It's too cold to stay out here," he said. Even he felt a shiver at the cold, courtesy of the sweat that was beginning to chill on his skin.
She nodded. Aemon once more grabbed the cart, but he pushed it backward through the furrows he'd already made. Jeor, Samwell, and a number of other Night's Watch men stood at the gate. Upon seeing him struggle, Jeor waved a hand and a few men came running out. They attempted to take the cart, but Aemon wouldn't let it go, so they turned their efforts to helping him.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Your Graces. We'll arrange a pyre for him. It should be ready later this evening," Jeor said to them.
"Thank you," Aemon replied.
He put an arm around Dany and just as he was beginning to guide her back to Castle Black, Jeor said, "Your cousin Bran is still here. Would you like to see him?"
Aemon started. In their rush to leave, he'd forgotten that the letter had also included news about Bran. "We would," Aemon replied.
"Samwell, take their Graces to Bran Stark."
"Yuh-yes, Lord Commander," Samwell said, with a short bow and began leading the way. He led them up a few flights of stairs and down a hall, and then knocked on an ornate door.
A small pale face opened the door enough to peek out.
"His Grace King Aemon and her Grace Queen Daenerys wish to speak with Bran Stark," Samwell said quickly.
The door opened wide to reveal Lady Meera. She was as petite as Aemon previously remembered, but instead of wearing a typical dress, she was wearing trousers and a fur cloak. She looked worn and thin.
"Your Graces," she said, dipping into a curtsy and then stepped back, holding the door open for them.
Aemon walked through, noticing that Bran had been placed in a room befitting a lord. Furs were laid upon the floor here and there, a large bed stood in the corner with heaps of blankets, and a few plush chairs sat on a mammoth bearskin rug in front of a roaring fire. Aemon could just see the hands of someone sitting in the plush chair.
He turned to the young woman first. "Thank you for helping my cousin in his time of need beyond the Wall."
She gave him a wan smile. "Of course, Your Grace, it was my pleasure." Her voice sounded rote to his ears and he wondered about it. Had they run into more trouble than was typical beyond the Wall? They had been gone considerably longer in this life than the previous one. Perhaps that was it. He started toward Bran.
"King Aemon Targaryen," Bran's voice sounded.
Aemon rounded the chair to look at his cousin. He was naturally taller since he last saw him and he smiled up at him, but there was a coldness to his expression that Aemon did not remember from his former life. While that Bran had been oddly distant, he'd still had warmth for his family. Bran's eyes had started to go milky since Aemon last saw him, but Aemon still felt pinned by them.
"How was your training with the three-eyed raven?" Aemon asked.
Instead of answering him, Bran tilted his head toward the door. "Meera, would you please leave us?"
"Of course," Meera replied softly and stepped outside the door.
Once the door had snapped shut, Bran said, "Were you going to tell me of your previous life?"
Aemon flickered his eyes to Dany, feeling his back raised. He saw her suspicion beginning to build. "I hardly needed to; I know what you could do before."
"You wish me to be little more than a glorified spy," Bran said waspishly.
"You're the only one who can see beyond the Wall right now," Aemon replied. "We need to know of the Night King's movements."
Bran's mouth was downturned and his brow was furrowed.
"What ails you?" Aemon asked.
"I have all of this … history at my fingertips, but the Gods have me on a tight lead," Bran said.
"What?" Aemon whispered, bending down closer.
"It feels like they're breathing down my neck."
"Can you … speak with them?"
"No," Bran said. "They made … certain threats."
Aemon frowned. "What kind of threats?"
Bran shook his head, even as he set his jaw in a truculent jut. "I will help you as much as I can. I just thought you should know … they will not let you rest until you defeat the Night King."
Aemon pulled back, shivering at the intensity in Bran's face. He looked to Dany who had hung back. Ever since the crossroads where Aemon promised to never shut her out of an important conversation—to at least tell her anything she wishes to know—she'd been largely eager to insert herself into conversations. But she appeared plainly unnerved.
He unstuck his throat and said, "Thank you, Bran. I ask that you write to me about the Night King's movements. We need to know what is happening beyond the Wall."
Bran did not answer him, but Aemon quickly returned to Dany and guided her out the door.
"Did you hear that?" he whispered in her ear.
"Not … all of it," she said. "He frightened me."
"Bran was a sweet boy. He was never like that … before." Though he spoke low enough to not be heard, he still glanced around furtively. "It seems the Gods are … leaning on him in a way that upsets him."
Dany glanced at him sharply. "Should we be worried?"
"I'm not sure what we could do."
"Do you expect them to do the same to you?"
He slowed his walking and stared at her, curious about her words. There had been a number of times where he wondered about the Gods' true intentions. Their insufferable silence left him endlessly frustrated. At some point he'd stopped worrying about it, because he felt their lack of presence indicated they were pleased with his efforts. But to what end? Bran confirmed it. The Gods had a vision and they were not above smiting to see it achieved. Would they've been more active in his life if he had attempted to forswear his destiny? They intervened with Jaime all those years ago, but he was met with guidance instead of threats.
Why would Bran be threatened? His cousin had been perfectly cordial if not a tad wooden after his return from beyond the Wall. Placid, unshakable, but not arrogant. Why should the Gods be so angry with him? Why would Jaime, of all people, be given more grace?
Now that he was able to fly with Rhaegal, it was tempting to visit Jaime and sequester him for such a conversation. It would have to wait for when he returned to King's Landing.
After such an eventful day, both Aemon and Dany retired to a room in Castle Black. Dany called for a bath, insisting she soak in the heat to dispel the chill that had settled into her skin. Though he preferred the cold, he found it less bearable when his spirits were low, so he followed in her footsteps. They joined the rest of Castle Black for the evening meal, where Aemon, Dany, and Jeor spoke at length about the preparations against the army of the Dead.
When the meal finished, Jeor stood and declared, "It is time to give Maester Aemon our final farewell."
They all trooped out onto the grounds where a pyre had been set. A few minutes later, Aemon and a few other men bore Maester Aemon's body to the pile of wood and delicately placed him on top. The whole time he had feared that Maester Aemon's eyes would fly open and reveal the lightning blue of one of the Night King's soldiers.
"Would you care to do the honors, Your Graces?" Jeor asked, handing a torch to both him and Dany.
They stepped forward synchronously. They heard a dragon cry from above. Aemon stopped, frowning at the sky. Night had long fallen, but he was certain he could see at least one circling high above. It reminded him of ravens circling a kill and he shuddered. Suddenly, one of the shapes grew larger.
"Dany," Aemon called out.
She was just a few feet shy of putting flame to tender when a spurt of cream flames shot out and ignited the pyre. Then emerald green flames not unlike wildfire followed in their wake. For a moment, green flames intermingled with the cream kind. The edges of them were showing signs of orange when the black and red flames of Drogon followed. Drogon's lingered for a minute before it too settled back to orange.
Though the pyre was engulfed, it was still standing and the body was still visible. Aemon stepped back and Dany rejoined him.
"The dragons honor him," Dany whispered, leaning into his shoulder.
"They do."
He sincerely hoped that Aemon's spirit soared in the heavens with them.