Entering the maester's quarters, the steward called for Aemon, who rose from his chair and looked toward them with clouded eyes. "Maester Aemon?" Jon asked softly, smiling somberly as he looked upon the bald elderly man.
"It seems you know of me," the man said as he came before Jon, "to whom do I speak?"
He'd thought on this but decided to take it slow. "Jon Snow, bastard to Eddard Stark."
Aemon nodded. "Mm. Have you come to take the black?"
"I'm afraid not, Maester."
"And your friend?" Aemon asked looking down toward Ghost, the pup stood behind him.
"I've called him Ghost," Jon said turning to lift the wolf, who obediently went still as Jon adjusted his grip and raised him. "He came to me in the woods, abandoned to us by his mother it would seem."
When Aemon raised his hand, Jon carefully took it and guided his fingers to the wolf's soft white fur, letting the maester scratch his head. The wrinkled man chuckled as the pup licked at his hand. "Obedient for a direwolf."
The steward gasped while Jon smiled. "So it is one after all?"
"You didn't know?" Aemon asked with surprise.
"The one who left it was a wolf. Her eyes seemed pale, so I thought perhaps she was blind and left him to us or was abandoning him for his odd look."
Aemon nodded. "Have you cared for it?"
"It's slept at my side every night since our first and has eaten from my hand more than a few times."
Aemon nodded, looking toward the steward but staring past the man's left shoulder. "That will be all, you can leave us." The steward seemed wary but shrugged and left the room while Jon set the wolf back on the floor. "Ghost, you said? How does he look?"
"He's white furred and red eyed."
"An albino," Aemon said turning to make his way toward a table as Jon followed. "Like my great uncle."
"Brynden Rivers," said Jon.
Aemon smiled as he took a seat. "So you know who I am, Jon Snow?"
Jon glanced back at the door before he sat to Aemon's right. "You are my great uncle."
Aemon's smile faded, his face darkening as his brow sank. There were hints of anger coloring his gentle face. "I will not stand for foolish japes, boy."
"I speak the truth," Jon said setting his satchel on the table. "Who else would come to you with a dragon egg and Dark Sister at his side?"
Aemon gasped. "What?"
Jon motioned to the door, "Ghost, guard." Obediently the wolf went to stand by the door and act guard as he had a few times during their trip. Jon opened the satchel and removed the egg, making sure his body blocked it from the doorway as he set it on the table.
Aemon reached out, running his fingers across it as he let out a trembling breath. "It's colors?"
"Red, with golden flecks and black whorls."
Aemon's lips stretched into a somber smile. "The Butterwell egg."
"Butterwell?" asked Jon, looking to the egg. "From the second Blackfyre rebellion?"
"There was a saying of my uncle. How many eyes does Lord Bloodraven have? A thousand eyes, and one." Turning his clouded gaze onto the egg he explained, "It would seem those eyes knew of what was to come and had a hand in secreting the egg away. Though I thought it lost to Summerhall or time."
"So the sword and egg are both from him," Jon said with a laugh.
"Are you certain it's her?" Aemon held the egg out for Jon to take, letting him put it back into his bag before taking out Dark Sister. He felt the hilt and snickered, handing it back. "How did you come across these? Why do you think yourself my kin? Has Eddard Stark laid with some forgotten cousin?"
"It was his sister laid with a dragon," Jon said after he set the sword away and looked to Aemon.
The old maester gasped, looking toward Jon. "You're Rhaegar's son?"
"So I'm told," said Jon. "I was told my uncle claimed me as his bastard to spare my murder at the hands of Robert. I was told Rhaegar wed Lyanna Stark before taking her south where I was born and was given the name Jon Snow to hide my true name."
"And what is that?" Aemon asked quietly, his face full of tender emotion.
"Aegon Targaryen."
Aemon's smile grew. "Another Egg."
"So it would seem," Jon snickered. "I imagine that might have been different if not for the death of my siblings."
Aemon chuckled softly. "Perhaps, though I fear Rhaegar had his obsessive moments. We wrote to one another by raven. He seemed to believe his child would be the prince that was promised. He thought the boy needed to be named Aegon, his sisters named for the conqueror's sister wives. Perhaps he hoped to make certain his belief came true and begged your mother, or you were named in honor of you stolen brother or one of the many great Aegons before you."
"Did he ever speak to you of my mother?"
"Not specifically," Aemon said with a frown. "He once mentioned he had fallen for a girl despite being married. He spoke of his wife being frail, unable to give him a third child. He was afraid the dragon wouldn't have three heads. Perhaps he took your mother as bride to give the dragon three heads twice over, with him and his wives as well as their children."
"And now I'm all that's left of them," Jon said somberly.
Aemon raised his hands. "May I?"
"Of course." Jon took the man's hands and guided them to his face.
"Your coloring?"
"Dark hair and eyes, like my mother. Enough to keep me alive despite squiring to the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard in King's Landing."
Aemon nodded. "Is that so? Why not Winterfell?"
"I was raised in Winterfell, and though I loved Lord Stark's children as siblings, his wife saw me as a stain on their family, so I left to find my own way in hopes of gaining some honor back for them."
Aemon brushed his fingers across Jon's nose, smiling sadly. "You've his nose, his chin as I remember it. Even his hair hung similar. It may be a blessing you've taken your mother's coloring if you can learn from Ser Barristan while beneath the usurper's nose."
"It's kept me alive," Jon said with a hollow laugh, "but… I grew up thinking myself a bastard. Fearing I was a stain upon my family, and now I've learned my father's family is dead. All but you and my aunt and uncle somewhere in Essos."
Aemon smiled. "You've heard of them? They live?"
"I was only told they live in Essos," said Jon. "Viserys and Daenerys."
"And you came to see me instead of them?" asked Aemon, taking his hands from Jon.
"They have each other," said Jon, "but you were alone."
Aemon smiled to the boy. "And now I am not. Thank you, Egg."
Jon smiled. "Please, in front of others-"
"Jon." Aemon nodded. "If you have the sword and egg, then do you plan to reveal yourself?"
Jon frowned, Aemon looking concerned hearing his sigh. "I fear in time I must."
"Why?" asked Aemon, "Is your hair turning blond with age?"
"No, but there is a blond prince waiting to take the throne upon his father's death," said Jon. "A blond prince who is cruel and petulant, who tortures animals and torments his own siblings."
Aemon frowned. "Perhaps it is not the Targaryens who sow the seed of madness, but the throne."
"More like his parents," Jon said with a scoff. "He has his mother's vanity and greed with his father's recklessness. If anyone but him gains attention he takes it as some covetous infraction, if anyone questions him he takes is as defiance, he makes threats and uses his place as prince as a shield."
"To usurp a usurper is no easy task," noted Aemon.
"But one that can be done in time."
Maester Aemon thought for a moment. "A dragon might help."
Jon blinked, sitting back in his chair. "You think it possible to hatch the egg? I thought it nothing more than a stone now."
"Have you ever held a dragon's egg you knew to hatch?" Aemon asked, unable to see Jon shake his head but assuming as much. "Who is to say such a feat impossible if done properly?"
"How is it done?" asked Jon.
Aemon frowned. "Who knows? The last dragon lived and died before my time. The last in Westeros, at least."
"You think there are others elsewhere?"
"We know so little," said Aemon. "Though my chained brothers may think themselves knowing, to assume so is a fool's folly. The world is grand and cast in shadow yet."
"How can I go about hatching it then?"
"I cannot say, as I have not hatched one. I know only the tales of babes in their cribs waking to find dragons beside them. What lay within the egg may be long dead, or it could be stirring still, waiting for it's rider to rouse it from its slumber. Perhaps it is simply waiting for you to stop being an egg."
"Me?"
"You are a boy still, aren't you?"
"Near fifteen," he admitted.
"Yet an Egg," said Aemon. "If you seek the challenge the realm that cast us aside then whether as Jon Snow or Aegon Targaryen you cannot be an Egg. You are much younger than my brother when he took the throne, but I will share the counsel I gave him before we parted for the last time. He was a man grown with sons of his own yet in some ways still a boy. Egg had an innocence to him, a sweetness we all loved. Kill the boy within you, I told him the day I took ship for the Wall. It takes a man to rule. An Aegon, not an Egg. Kill the boy and let the man be born.
"You are less than half the age that Egg was, and your burden will be even crueler, born from war and strife. Reclaiming what has been stolen from you will be no easy task when so many have bloated in peace and have been turned against us. They remember only Aerys the Mad, Aegon the Unworthy and Maegor the Cruel while forgetting Jaehaerys the Wise, Daeron the Good and even my brother Aegon the Unlikely. You will find little joy in your rise, but I sense you have the strength in you to do the things that must be done. Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy and let the man be born."
Jon thought on his words, sat in silence for a moment as he looked to the bag housing his egg and sword. "If I hatch the egg, I can't keep it in King's Landing."
Aemon frowned. "Not once it begins to grow. Not if you mean to keep it secret."
"Could I ask you to care for it?"
At that Aemon smiled. "You mean to leave the egg with me?"
"No," said Jon. "The dragon. Once it hatches I could send it to you on the Wall. If I can't keep it with me, why not let it foster with another dragon?"
It was odd how despite being blind, Aemon looked at him for a moment. "I will tell them I've grown fond of Eddard Stark's bastard," he said suddenly, "that your interest in the Wall and our history has endeared you to me. The boy they think you, Jon Snow, is he the type kind enough to placate an old man at the edge of the world?"
Jon smiled. "I think he could be. I've taken to reading on history, so who better to speak of it than one who lived in the time of the old kings. Though Robert may damn you as dragon blood you are still a man who lived a long life. We could speak through history, through details of the order I'd always wanted to join before heading south, or other mundane tales."
"So it's as your uncle said. You sought to join us before you went to be a knight?"
"I did," said Jon. "I thought it the best I could hope for."
"Could you not be master-of-arms at Winterfell?"
"Lady Stark saw me a stain upon their house, upon her honor. I would not stay there even if I did not know the truth. I would have come here to spare them the slight of my birth since I've little doubt she would want me gone now that Eddard Stark likely rides for King's Landing to act as Hand to the King."
A hint of anger came to Aemon's face again as he shook his head. "I am sorry I did not know. To speak true I have had my vows tested three times, the hardest was hearing of our house's fall during the usurper's war. If I had known of you, I fear I may have failed the test."
Jon reached to hold the man's hand in hopes that it would convey his smile. "Then I am glad. I fear our talk wouldn't be as interesting if you lacked a head."
Aemon laughed at that, squeezing Jon's hand and patting the back of it. "I shall look into your aunt and uncle, and I will find a way to speak to you and share anything I find of the egg, I promise this to you."
"Thank you, uncle." He noted Aemon's smile grow as his clouded eyes glistened. "Are you the only maester here?"
"I'm afraid so," the old man nodded, blinking the tears from his eyes.
"I'll speak to the king himself if I must to have him write to the Citadel and send another here to aide you."
"You have his ear?"
"He thinks my squiring to Ser Barristan Selmy a favor done to Lord Stark," said Jon. "His wife, Cersei, has made the staff of the Red Keep ignore me while his eldest son, Joffrey finds amusement in belittling me, but the king shows me favor every so often. He's asked after me a time or two, and I've earned him coin from bets placed on my matches in the yard."
Aemon smiled at that. "A warrior, hm?"
Jon thought for a moment and nodded. "I've spent years learning and sparring with Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Loras Tyrell, even Ser Domeric Bolton."
Aemon's brow furrowed. "Barristan the Bold, The Kingslayer, a Tyrell and a Bolton?"
Jon nodded before remembering he couldn't see. "Yes. I know many look down on Jaime but I've found him not entirely unhonorable, though perhaps only because I thought my bastardry stained me much like his slaying of Aerys. And his skill had helped me grow near as sharp, or so I hope."
After a moment of thought Aemon asked, "What of the others?"
"Loras and Dom? They are friends. I know many tell tales of the Boltons, but Dom is a true knight. He and my friend Samwell Tarly who joined me on the ride here are the only ones who know what I've told you and seen the egg and sword apart from Ser Barristan, Lord Stark and Benjen."
"Ser Barristan knows?" Aemon laughed. "Then it seems you already have your first kingsguard, and likely two others if the Tarly you speak of is a knight as well."
"He isn't," said Jon. "He's more like to be a maester. Though a Tarly, he prefers to read and hunt books rather than beasts."
"I see," Aemon nodded, "though when I said others I meant the others in the royal family. You spoke of the usurper king, his queen and his crown prince, but not the others."
"Oh, they are nothing like their parents," said Jon. "Or at least if they are they have only the best of their qualities. Tommen is a tenderhearted but tries his best, especially when it comes to reading, which he shares with his sister and their uncle Tyrion. Myrcella has her mother's beauty but given to a true lady in the making. She's one of the few to stand up to Joffrey, even his parents don't question him or ignore him but she doesn't hesitate to answer him. She's intelligent too, not like some ladies who are all courtesy and beauty, she has those but has a sharp mind which she seems more like to have inherited from her uncles since the king and queen lack it."
Aemon smiled as he listened to the boy, hearing how his tone revealed the fondness he surely showed on his face. "You care for the princess, I see."
Jon glanced at him for a moment, thinking of denying it, but then sat up. "In a way. She was… She's nice to me. She has been since I first met her, and while most of the other servants at the Red Keep have turned away from me her kindness grew. I think she is fond of me, I am near sure of it and my friends tease me about it near constantly, but I thought myself a bastard. I fear I may have wanted what I thought I could not have. Part of me surely saw her as an achievement to grasp, something to earn in an effort to prove myself. It was why I entered a tourney months ago as a mystery knight."
"Did you?"
"I unhorsed my first opponent but was unhorsed in my second by Jaime Lannister and made to squire him for a month as ransom after removing my helmet for all to see."
"And if you had won?"
"I planned to crown the princess, toss most of the coin to the peasants and use the rest to buy my friends a meal and drinks."
"You wouldn't have revealed yourself?"
"To what end?" Jon shrugged. "It would only draw the ire of the queen and prince if they knew I had crowned Myrcella. Of my companions I am the only one still a squire, and not much younger than them. I wanted to ride and win to know that I was as good as they are."
"And when you take the throne?" asked Aemon. "What happens to the once prince and princess?"
Jon frowned. "I don't know. If it all happens without bloodshed I thought I could send the king and crown prince here and let Tommen take Storm's End, or give that to Stannis or Renly and have Tommen fostered before taking another keep. As for Myrcella I… don't know."
Aemon chuckled. "I am glad you've been so honest with me, Egg. You are a poor liar."
"I've gotten better," he said with a laugh.
"King's Landing has a way of teaching you."
"In truth I don't know, but only because I don't know what will happen. If it comes to war Robert will likely die and I will make sure I kill Joffrey, but she may hate me for that. Even if it were a bloodless exchange I fear she may hate me, but if she didn't I'd prefer to keep her close, if only because of whatever loyalty she may bring from the Stormlands and Westerlands."
"If only for that," Aemon said with a knowing smile. "It seems at least your hope for the throne is no thoughtless desire."
"There is little desire," said Jon. "I've stood in the Great Hall and watched the king for hours. I've followed him for entire days. I've seen what it does to him and fear I may fail as well, but I hope that even if I did I would choose better people than the council he has. Half of them are mummers and charlatans playing at some grand game."
"They play the game of thrones," Aemon spoke grimly. "Now you've joined them in it."
Jon sighed, sitting back in his chair. "I plan to be here for a few days and hope we could speak more."
"Have you figured out a way to do so without drawing suspicion?" asked Aemon.
"I've told the Lord Commander I've come in hopes of asking for aid from the king on behalf of the Night's Watch. I mentioned specifically I want to know as much as I could, and surely the maester could help me learn the history of the watch."
"I could send books as well," said Aemon. "To pair with our letters should the need arise. One you could return with someone you trust to guide your dragon back North. Though I beg you be careful going forward. Your life may rely on your patience. Hopefully the ice of your mother's family will quell any fire that may push you to act too soon."
Jon nodded, looking from the white wolf stood at the door. "Ghost, to me." The pup rose and walked over to him, Jon reaching out to rub his head. "I'll do what I can, but I imagine a dragon woken is difficult to put to sleep again."