Wise Wyrm
Eighteenth Day of the Tenth Month 293 AC
For just a moment, from all the weighty discussions of battling Winter's blight upon the lands of summer, to the encroachment of fiends upon the realm of man, and mighty deeds like the sundering of frozen temple mount, or delving into cryptic doom, Aemon Targaryen had understood all too well what the men of the Night's Watch felt when whispering of the King's passage in the days marking his, unfortunately, he thought guiltily, brief visits to the Wall. More likened him to some sort of natural phenomenon like the tide or the rising of the sun, or more dreadfully, the flaying blast of winter's chill and the hurricane gale fit to riven the land asunder.
But in those eyes, so much like his own, he saw much that undermined such idle notions, albeit he had the gift of age and he would like to think wisdom, of kinship and increasing familiarity, to know however much the young man before him had experienced in the painfully eventful and short years since the surge of magic had shaken the world under the sun anew, that he was more than the weight of his own mighty deeds or the crown upon his silver brow. He saw anticipation, anxiety and worry, worry that Aemon would turn away from the very real desire to see him reunited with the only blood he had left in this world, all of it South where he was needed here in the North.
"Uncle?" Viserys shook him from his contemplation, reaching out a hand, "Are you ready?"
Aemon stood from his seat more steadily than he had not very long ago, another gift he had Rhaegar's younger brother to thank. It was with that thought he regretted instead he had not counseled the late Prince to make a trip North when he had the chance. He was not at all barred from leaving the capital, and perhaps he could have seen the signs before... he sighed.
Truth be told and when addressed as such, at times he did not feel he deserved the right to be called so, but he was reminded quickly that these two counted that old crow in the cold distance much the same, or at least similar, ties of blood and kinship in shared struggles binding them all together. He may have stood by his oaths for a lifetime, whereas Lord Bloodraven had merely traded badges for the same office, always so clever with his way around oaths until the branch bent too far back and broke altogether. He hoped dearly neither Viserys nor Daenerys fell with it, should that time come.
"As I will ever be," he said with more cheer than he thought himself capable in that moment, perhaps better at hiding his own worry--or more likely Viserys was forcing himself to be more candid. One did not advance ambitions such as he held, without being capable of concealing their true feelings... yet for all that it was all the more touching he had seen fit not to.
The world jumbled together swiftly from one point to the next with a whispered incantation and a hand upon his wizened shoulder, and suddenly they appeared in an emptied parlour, a warm hearth being stoked by a tiny spirit of living flame, while the markings of a hundred adventures was strewn about the room, more art and keepsakes than treasures, by the look of it. His attention was immediately caught by the sharp gasp across the room, spying a little girl who he had only heard about in letters and benighted hearsay after the war's end. He looked up at the woman who scooped the little Princess up to keep her from jumping forward, a smile gracing her face wonderfully. "Hello, Maester Aemon. Say hello to your uncle, Rhaenys."
"You're my uncle?" The child spoke, surprise and wonder in her voice, more than, to Viserys' clear amusement, she felt for the dragons in the room.
"Perhaps somewhat older than the others," Aemon admitted, steadied by the hand of the King still on his shoulder. "And much like them, certainly with my own share of stories."
His eyes twinkling with delight, Viserys spoke up, "Careful, Uncle Aemon. Before you know it, you'll usurp my place as favored uncle. I had to work very hard to wrest that from Prince Oberyn, you know?"
Rhaenys turned up her nose, not able to hide a giggle, "What if I said it was Aunt Dany who was my favorite, then?"
The other Princess smirked knowingly: "Wisdom spoken from the mouths of babes themselves."
After the laughter had died down, eyes were drawn by a tapping against wood-encased leaden frame, he was told built so to better ward against divination.
"Alright everyone," Rhaella called from the doorway, "The household should be in order, and dinner is starting soon..." She seemed surprised at Aemon's presence, before shooting a chiding look at Viserys. He held up his hands defensively, with a laugh, "I informed the servants to prepare an extra seat," he assured her.
She sighed wearily.
***
Was that all it really took? Aemon wondered. The hardships of old age might be worn away bit by bit with some pleasant company, such as it might have been in Castle Black's library listening to his kin regale him in derring do and noisome treks through the wilderness where nary a day went by without some encounter with voracious wildlife, and the accumulated aches and pains might even be healed with sorcery, such as it had been with him. But so far as he knew, nothing would take away the weakness of body, the steepening of shoulders or return the limberness of limb, naught perhaps but sorcery far better put to use than comforting an old man far into his twilight years.
But in the company of family, old and new, he felt as he had as a boy, more like to replay a scene of mischief from his tales of his brothers, naught but distant memories of his father weary from wars long past nestled by the fire for comparison. Not many Targaryens had the chance to grow so old as he, fewer still to die away from a battlefield or aught else but in the midst of violence or betrayal.
"During those years after the Fire, I wondered if perhaps the Gods had cursed me, to watch my family slowly wither away on jaundiced ambitions and trackless dreams of fictive motive. I had vowed to go North, to ensure stability and peace remained in the Seven Kingdoms and I would not be used as some pawn in treason against my brother. Now I wonder if perhaps there was something I could have done to prevent it all." Aemon calmly raised a wrinkled hand with surprising ease, prompting the King to restrain whatever assurance died in his throat, even as Daenerys drifted closer to take his other hand in her own.
"I think I now know better than long to see such might-have-beens, and instead I am much assured that I will leave this world in capable hands, that I have not failed in holding to my oaths and that some good might come out of my final years." Even as he spoke the words, the subtle exchange of glances about the room did not escape him, he was not blind to Egg's earlier counsel anymore than he was to the concern in the King's gaze or the glint of defiance in the Princess' eye. Even Rhaella straightened at the words, sympathy as much as understanding to be found there, but also determination.
To Viserys he spoke again, easing to a stand as his eyes drifted about the hall, eyes drifting from banners of Royce and Lonmouth, Swann and Redfort, of banners from the East, these of Drekelis and Antaryon, Agrelys and Rogare, strong houses one and all, with ancient histories.
"I needn't ask you to set things to rights, for I know you shall in the fullness of time, nor will I plead that you see some of what Aegon dreamed come to life, as from what I have seen of your works, you will lead the Seven Kingdoms there kicking and aye, likely screaming. Hopefully you will not have to work your own throat hoarse counseling against folly, nor do I hope advantage be taken of your generosity and kindness unasked in a time when it was not expected."
Aemon gazed before the long-span of years ahead of the young King and smiled brightly, "I only ask you don't live in regret more than a moment, nor burn so brightly that your spark goes out before its time."
Resolutely, the young King replied, "As you say, uncle. May the world have even the smallest ounce of your clear-sightedness, for we'll all have need of it."
"I apparently have both of you to thank for that, as well," Aemon said, content in his jest.
