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Published:2020-04-25Updated:2026-04-06Words:409,591Chapters:71/?Comments:5,537Kudos:6,020Bookmarks:1,659Hits:467,009
The Stormborn and the Stormbringer
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 20: Valar morghulis
Chapter Text
Daenerys told Aemon everything.
From her earliest memories in Braavos, with her brother and Ser William Darry with the house with the red door and the lemon tree. Of running to avoid the Usurpers assassins and Viserys' descent from a loving brother to a tormentor. To being sold in marriage to Khal Drogo and learning among the Dothraki, of learning to ride silver and to stiffen her spine to be a Khalessi. To learning their language, their customs, of Irri and Jhiqui and Doreah and the gift of the dragon eggs. Of how the eggs had always felt warm to touch and how the flames of the brazier never harmed her. Of Jorah and his constant presence, her knight of Bear island. Of Viserys' growing madness as Daenerys grew and rejected his abuse of her. Of learning she carried a child within her, of traveling to Vaes Dothrak and eating a bloodied, warm stallions heart before the crones of the dosh khaleen. Of naming her son Rhaego and the prophecy of the Stallion who mounts the World. Of Viserys' death after he threatened to cut her unborn babe from her before her husband, and how Drogo crowned Viserys in molten gold and how dull his lilac eyes were when the life left his body. Of the vintner who tried to poison her only to be caught and tied, of Drogo's declaration to gift the Seven Kingdoms to their son as retribution for the attempted assassination. Of the khalasar raiding the Lhazareen village, with Drogo being cut from his killing of two khals and the godswife Mirri Maz Durr offering her poisonous aid. Of Drogo sickening, of Mirri Maz Durr killing Rhaego within Daenerys as payment for a ghost in a body. Of learning about the mutated remains of her dead son and of smothering her husband and how the khalasar broke and all that were left were some dozen and her bloodriders. Of Mirri Maz Durr's taunts, of what life was worth when all else was gone. Of lashing the maegi to the pyre and lit her ablaze and Daenerys herself walking within the flames as the woman's screams echoed across the land.
Then the moment when she realized Ghidorah had hatched for her, of gathering that small scaled body against her as she huddled upon the burnt husk of the pyre upon the bones of her husband. A dragon as small and frail as an infant, scales of gold with three heads. One who breathed storm and lightning, to match the namesake of his mother. Her child, her Ghidorah.
And how he was with her, crossing the Red Waste and fighting the warlocks of Qarth. Of him killing the Good Master at Astapor as she took control of the Unsullied before she freed the soldiers who then chose to follow her on their own accord.Then her campaigns against Yunkai and Meereen, Ghidorah killing the Meereenese champion and her people cracking open the walls like a ripe melon. Of her trying to rule Meereen while fending off the Harpy and all the trials it entailed being a ruler.
Of how her child who grew and grew until his wings could carry her, telling how it felt to be carried aloft by a dragon for the first time in centuries. To see the cities from the gaze of a bird, to feel how his scales felt beneath her and the boom of his wings and the rush of air as they soared through the sky.
She even told Aemon of the House of the Undying, the blue lipped warlocks, of the shadowbinder Quaithe with her strange prophecy, and her dragon dreams.
Through it all, Aemon's shaking fingers roved over her face; tracing the curve of her cheekbones, the slope of her nose, the arch of her brow, the bow of her mouth. His blind eyes were open wide, foggy irises surrounded by egg-shell white.
"The life of a Targaryen is never easy," Aemon lamented when she finished, his calloused thumb stroking her jaw. "I fled to the Wall to stop a civil war for succession and lost my bones and body to the cold and time, forgotten at the end of the earth and surrounded by ghosts. It is hard to be so old, so old and feeble. And harder still to be so blind. I miss the sun and books. And the fact I will never be able to see you in my last moments."
"I'm still here nonetheless," Daenerys said quietly, feeling the hot stinging behind her eyelids.
"I believed I was going to die with that regret, to never meet my brave surviving family, fighting against a tide of enemies a continent away. Even now I am unsure if you are simply a shade sent by the Stranger, to lead me across the veil to the darkness. If indeed you are before me, then I fear you'll have this journey alone and without me," Aemon rasped. "The journey told to you by the witch, of those beyond the Wall. The Others. They stir and the Long Night again approaches and I'm too old and feeble to be by your side when you face this horror."
Daenerys felt a shiver roll down her spine, at Aemon vindication of the maegi's words of the dead men in the Land of Always Winter. The pale shadows. The Others.
"Even this meeting is enough," Daenerys assured him instead, squeezing his hand. "Ever since Viserys died I'd been without family and when my brother perished he was a tormentor to me, a monster with my brother's face. I had gone without hope of ever seeing kin again. Even if this is a brief meeting, I will cherish you still."
Tears swelled in Aemon's blind eyes, making the milky white pearlescent. "Ah, you remind me of Egg; he had a sweetness to him we all loved, especially beloved by the smallfolk. Fierce and gentle in equal measure. After our House dying perhaps I despaired on how loneliness and fear can twist one into something dark. But you returned with dragons, something which had been lost to dreams for myself and my brothers, a dream which took even more lives at Summerhall trying to wake them. Our grief and glory and we were lost without them."
"Do you wish to meet him?"
Aemon's weathered face creased, as if confused by her words.
"My child," Daenerys explained. "He flew me from Meereen to Braavos upon the swiftest of wings. He is just beyond the door and guards me while I am here in Braavos. Do you wish to meet him?"
His fingers spasmed against her skin, his throat flexing before he managed to say, "To see a dragon is to see one of the wonders of the world. Though in my case sight is beyond me. But yes, if he will permit me. I would meet your child."
Aemon struggled to push himself upright so Daenerys assisted him without hesitation, sliding an arm underneath his to support his weight as she helped him stand. Despite him being much taller than her, he was deceptively light even with the bulkiness of his maester robes.
She could feel him stumble against her as Ghidorah shifted outside the house, the rasp of the golden dragon's scales audible. Through their link she could still feel his aching limbs which mirrored her own but her child moved up onto his belly, rousing himself from where he'd been coiled like a cat.
Outside, the air reeked of salt and fish and the Braavosi guard were still present to keep back the crowd of curious onlookers; now that it had seemed Daenerys had no interest in burning Braavos to cinders the braver ones were skulking around the harbour to stare at Ghidorah where his great golden bulk was curled before the housing. There were many workers as she gently guided Aemon through the doorway, the crew dragging crates or carts to and fro while avoiding getting too close to Ghidorah. There were more ships in the bay even if many seemed wary of actually being too near.
She also spotted some painters and sculptors among the crowd watching Ghidorah from a safe distance away, with one of the nearest blocks of marble already taking a serpentine shape underneath a chisel and hammer. Camern, the envoy, was also there but he seemed to be speaking to the nervous Night's Watch member. He made no attempt to approach her as Ghidorah stirred, the dragon's movements making the more flighty of onlookers flee into the city or the ships. Aemon's arm tightened around her as Ghidorah's shadow cast over them, the dragon still resting on all fours but with his sinuous length stretched around so one wing was resting against the housing and his tails on the other side, keeping Daenerys and Aemon boxed before his curved body and largely obscuring them from the watchers.
Through their bond she could sense Ghidorah's curiosity over Aemon, her child being raised upon stories of Targaryens. His mid most head bent forward, the circles of his pupils expanding with interest. Aemon's body twitched as Ghidorah's hot breath washed over them, reeking of fish and salt. The arm not slung over Daenerys' shoulder twitched up, Aemon's withered fingers flexing as he stared blindly up in the direction of Ghidorah's nearest head. Above the sun glinted off the dragon's golden scales, refracting flecks of light across the stony wharf and nearby buildings.
"Uncle Aemon, meet my child, Ghidorah," Daenerys said quietly, her grip tightening on Aemon's robes as she gently urged his trembling form forward another step.
Daenerys sent a wordless request to her child and his other two heads swiveled around to watch her with severe intensity. It was large she was asking and if he chose to refuse then she would not begrudge him, even after traveling over a continent for Aemon. She could sense the flurry of emotion radiating through her child as he thought over her request before his left most head snorted and stretched out a long golden neck until his snout was lowered just before them.
Her love washed over their link for her child permitting this, before she gripped Aemon's bony wrist and helped guide his hand up until his fingertips brushed against smooth scales. Aemon's entire body spasmed, a strangled gasp escaping his throat as Daenerys urged him forward until his palm was lying flat on Ghidorah's scales.
"Oh...there you are..." Aemon's voice held such raw emotion that Daenerys could not help but smile.
Ghidorah's thoughts shifted, still so very curious as his other two heads moved closer. Aemon's blind eyes looked sightlessly over to where he could feel the additional breathing coming from.
"The tales are true, uncle," Daenerys said. "My child hatched for me with three heads."
"The dragon has three heads," Aemon's voice was barely more than a whisper.
The middle and right head did not permit Aemon's touch, the right even briefly curling a lip as Aemon swayed towards them with one hand still pressed to the left, but they remained close enough Aemon could feel their breathing and presence. She knew Ghidorah greatly disliked touch from any barring herself so it meant much to her he was even allowing Aemon's.
Aemon's hand roved along Ghidorah's snout, feeling the smooth scales, the slight divots of soft skin between. Ghidorah shifted, snorting out a breath before he titled his head, permitting Aemon to feel along the bony ridge of his jaw and the short spikes clustered along the golden scales before Aemon's hand brushed against the rough beginning of Ghidorah's lowermost horn.
The tears gleamed on Aemon's wrinkled cheeks, sliding down his chin to drip onto his robes. His breath was short and stuttery as his pulse fluttered against the thin skin of his throat.
"Oh...oh...what a sight you must be..." Aemon said, his voice nearly a whisper. "It does my old bones good, so good, to know you both are so young and strong and proud."
"The world has seen fit to test us, but we will not fall."
Aemon's gnarled fingers bumped over the jagged ridges of Ghidorah's horn as he said, "I fear the fates have simply let you feel the briefest push of their cruelty. The Others as beyond the notion of man and the Night's Watch is long past what it had been. It is such a great burden to push upon you both."
"We shall meet it nonetheless," Daenerys insisted to which Ghidorah growled in agreement. He did not know what those Others were but she could sense his certainty he would kill them all the same.
"Ah, forgive me. I should not be here yoking you with terrors." His fingers curled around the tip of Ghidorah's horn.
"It is part of the reason I had to come to you," she pressed closer against his side. "I had to know. You know of my campaign in Essos, of how I came to the Dothraki and my child, my war against the Masters. But I know not of your struggles at the Wall. My dreams showed me glimpses of what lurk beyond but these Others..."
"They are slavers as well. But they do not release their thralls even in death. No, the dead are their slaves. Their wights. Their foot soldiers that they mock us with. They have our own dead attack us. Death is no escape to the Others. Each slain is more for their army of undead."
I offered water to one of the slaves dying on the Walk of Punishment, do you know what he said to me? 'Let me die'.
There are no Masters in the grave, Your Grace.
Her conversation with Missandei so long ago in Astapor rose unbidden in her mind. Now it seemed even death would not save someone from enslavement, from a Master violating them.
Daenerys scowled. Aloud she spoke, "I have had much practice in killing Masters. If they are clad in frost or not, hide behind walls of stone or walls of ice, it doesn't matter. I will kill them all the same."
Aemon was about to respond with Ghidorah's right most head swiveled away to snarl at a too curious onlooker in the next building and making some of the wandering crowd scream. Almost instantly the Braavosi guard started yelling at some of them and Daenerys helped steady Aemon as Ghidorah turned around, one wing dropping over them as he hissed threateningly with the barbs on his tails flexing.
"...Perhaps we should speak inside," Daenerys said reluctantly as the guards shooed several people away. One was still arguing loudly with the person peering out the window in the other building.
Aemon wheezed wetly, "Yes. I wish I could converse more but my body is old and failing me. But you have my greatest gratitude, wondrous Ghidorah, for allowing me to witness you."
Ghidorah snorted but through their link Daenerys could feel his pleasure at Aemon's awe of him.
Daenerys insisted on taking Aemon to the lodgings given to her, the envoy building in far better shape than the damp one he had been in. Despite his protests she also insisted on giving him the largest bed, tucking the thick furs around him as he sat up with a hoard of pillows at his back. She could tell from his breathing and the way his hands were trembling, along with the almost blue tint to his skin, that Quaithe's words were true. Aemon was ill, ill and old and dying, and though she did indeed treasure meeting him she despaired at being alone again so soon.
Or perhaps not so alone, as Ghidorah had one large eye peering through the thick window to watch over them as he settled outside the building. Outside the crowd had moved with his own movements but nothing had yet broken out.
"I wish my body did not fail me so," Aemon said, body shaking. The veins underneath the thin skin of his hands were thick and protruding.
She offered him a delicate kerchief of silk from the bedside table and he coughed into it, the motion so intense he nearly slumped over despite her steadying. She tried not to despair at strength of his hacking and how his limbs trembled with exhaustion when he was done. The chill had sunken deep into his lungs.
"We are all human," Aemon rasped, sightless eyes roving over nothing as she smoothed the blankets around him. "We all have mistakes, regrets, consequences that we must live with for the rest of our days. They are wounds on the soul; some heal, leaving naught but a scar but others remain large and weeping until we die. Others still fester and rot us from the inside out. It seems now my body is catching up to my regrets."
"I know my own share of regrets," Daenerys said quietly. The images of Eroeh and Irri rose in her mind, along with the memory of her own belly heavy with child. When she had failed to protect those who trusted her, who needed her most and she failed them.
"Summerhall was another, of our family," Aemon said. "Trying to being dragons back to the world, to bring them back to us. Instead all we got was fire and blood, befitting our namesake."
"That was how my child came to me," Daenerys explained. "Upon that pyre, after the dregs of my life in the Great Grass Sea came to an end. After the deaths of my husband and my son."
"Yes. Through suffering sometimes we can find peace or a beginning- it can teach us the true cost. But for others it's just pain. Such as my brother, and nephew during that day at Summerhall. The dreams consumed him, visions of dragons and a burning red star until it drove him mad. That was were we failed, great grand niece of mine, and I hope you can forgive me for my foolishness. None looked for a girl, everyone thought the prince who was promised was a boy. Rhaegar shared my belief, that the smoke was from the flames which consumed Summerhall and the salt was from the tears of those which grieved the tragedy. Then his own son Aegon was conceived and a comet was seen above King's Landing and thus he believe his child was the one promised. But the language fooled us, dragons change from male to female as easily as the flame within them. The red witch is wrong, Stannis is not one who is promised. They are wrong and how many are burning for it when you are before me. Forgive us."
Daenerys struggled to follow Aemon's words, the man almost rambling.
"Prophecies are not what they seem," Daenerys said slowly. "When I ate the stallions heart in Vaes Dothrak they declared the son in womb the Stallion who mounts the world but he was killed inside me. You should not bind yourself to the words which can be as twisted as any serpent."
She ignored the whispered memories of Ishabi pointing out she indeed had a child. If anything that simply proved more of the convoluted nature of prophecies. Even Quaithe had warned her, despite the woman delivering one of her own. Counseling Daenerys to think upon those words that needed to be said but not bind herself to them. The maegi was indeed a capricious ally.
His hands searched until she grabbed them, Aemon folding her own slight ones between his as he spoke, "Forgive me, brave niece, for being so blind in all manner of the word. I should have known. I should have tried to find you."
"It was not your fault. Prophecies are like wind, so difficult to hear and even harder to see."
"The Gods were cruel, so cruel, when they tested me true," Aemon's face creased in old pain, his breath short huffs, "When they saw fit to test my vows. When the ravens came from the South, to tell me of the destruction of our House. What could I do? What could I do when I learned of the death of our family? Even the murders of the children, the little children. When I was old and blind and frail and could do nothing."
Swallowing thickly, Daenerys tightened her fingers around Aemon's own.
"And now they play one last cruel jape upon me," Aemon continued. "You need to be counseled, taught, protected. For all these years I've lingered, waiting, watching, and now that the day has dawned I am too old. I am dying. I'm dying and you'll be alone yet again." Tears ran down his face, seeping into the deep cracks of his wrinkles. "And I'm here with you at my deathbed and I'm afraid still. Even after meeting you, meeting you both, I still fear the dark. It's always so dark for me, for years, but I cannot help but think as to what is beyond. Will I see Egg again? Will I find Dareon whole and happy, hear my sisters singing to their children? Who can speak it true, the horselords and their shadowlands? Or the seven hells and heavens? Or will I return to the veil of sorrow? I am full of regret, not for meeting you or your dragon, never, but for being so old I cannot help you and you have to listen to a fearful old man."
"You have already helped me enough," Daenerys hastened to assure him. "I cannot speak for what is beyond this life but I have seen enough I truly doubt there is nothing. But if there is then I will gladly spend my moments by your side. I may not be able to soothe your fears but I will stay with you within them."
"Then perhaps I will not be so fearful when the Stranger does indeed come, knowing my dear niece and her dragon will fight for us."
Daenerys swallowed, Aemon's conviction of her warming her stomach, before she squeezed his hand and asked, "But before then, uncle Aemon, tell me of your life as I told you of mine."
And Aemon did.
Though Daenerys was loathe to do so, she answered the Sealord's summon the following morn. She had slept on fur covers next to Aemon when the old man finally succumbed to sleep after detailing his experiences to her; of how he and Aegon used to pretend their eggs were hatching, Egg's egg being white with green swirls while Aemon's own being the same purple as his own eyes had been. Both lost to Summerhall as many others. His brothers Daeron, Aerion and sisters Rhae and Daella. Losing them one by one, one through Targaryen madness and other the pox, Aemon becoming a maester and choosing the Wall. He told her of Ser Duncan the Tall, who reminded her of Ser Barristan, and of Rhaegar, her brother, who Aemon had communicated with in secret via raven. Until Aemon had fallen asleep in the middle of telling her about how he used a far-eye to studying the stars at the Wall before his eyes were lost. When he remained asleep the whole night and the following morn she reluctantly left his side to bathe, redress and go outside to answer the Sealord's request.
The domes and pillars of the Sealord's palace was located at the eastern end of the Purple Harbour, north of the Moon Pool and the Iron Bank, with Daenerys asking Camern, who had seemed to appear out of thin air when she exited her lodgings, if there would be any place large enough for Ghidorah to land. The envoy simply told her that the Sealord had come to her and his barge was moored just at the harbour across. It seems the Sealord was quite curious and eager to speak to Daenerys even if she knew a large part of it was the golden dragon, now fully rested from his long flight after a decent rest, who now crawled along the wharf beside her until she reached the barge as the surrounding crowd still assembled.
Ferrego Antaryon, the Sealord of Braavos, was awaiting her on top of the lavish barge. He was leaning heavily on a cane carved from a dark polished wood and his breathing was shallow and short but his eyes were sharp as Daenerys approached. To his side was another man, who Daenerys was quite certain was the First Sword of Braavos and as such the Sealord's constant personal guard.
"Thank you for your hospitality, noble Sealord," Daenerys greeted him politely when she drew close. "Braavos has been an accommodating city and I am greatly appreciative of your hospitality."
"I deemed it prudent to try and avoid any more...excitement following your arrival," Antaryon said, his voice level and calm despite his bowed frame. "Your beast has caused many to wonder if war is on the horizon."
"Ghidorah is no pet," Daenerys said. "He will not harm any here as long as I am unharmed."
"Of course not," the Sealord agreed with her easily. "We Braavosi are descended from those who fled Valyria and her dragonlords. We do not jape of dragons and the bond between those of Old Valyria and their scaly cohorts has always been a mystery to others. It took the Doom to slay the dragonlords of Valyria and took the Dance to slay the dragons of the Targaryens. They can only find equal against one another or in a cataclysm which killed an entire civilization. However from what my envoy has told me, you are not here to look west."
"As I told the noble envoy, I am here to comfort my ailing family member in his last days."
The Sealord beckoned her to follow, settling down on the plush chairs set upon the deck of the barge with the First Sword standing slightly behind him to his left. It was an oddly open environment but as Daenerys sat in the chair opposite she realized the combination of the sound of the sea, the bustling wharf, the guards and Ghidorah's presence- and he had his mid most head resting on the barge itself, neck extended across the bridge -meant there was a level of privacy she could appreciate in such an open area. She had always loved the sea and the smell of salt in the brisk wind.
"I was told of Maester Aemon by his steward," Antaryon said, settling back in his seat with a sigh and looking quite relaxed. "They are traveling to Old Town, to train that Night's Watch member as his replacement. We have no quarrel with the Night's Watch either, so we need not interfere with this ones quest. He will be permitted to leave and the Maester had long given up his blood rights once taking the oaths of the Wall I am told."
"Yes. He and I have no interest currently in the Iron Throne. I will stay by his side until he passes and I would be grateful if Braavos continued to offer me succor until his final sleep comes. I offered to pay for my lodgings-"
"The Sealords of Braavos have had dealings with the Targaryens in the past, Lady Daenerys," Antaryon interrupted her though not unkindly. "Some were cordial, others more volatile. And we have heard many, many tales of your crusade to the south against the Masters, Daenerys Stormborn, Breaker of Chains."
Her lips thinned in a terse line, "I understand what it means to be a slave, when I was sold as a child bride to the Dothraki. I do not want any other to suffer such a fate, not while I can stop it."
"And Braavos endorses such a campaign, silver queen. Our most notable and recent was with Pentos and in their suing for peace they agreed to our demands to terminate slavery within their walls and to withdraw from the slave trade. We do not tolerate such things and if any of those you freed wish to travel to Braavos they will be welcome here. There is always coin to be found and ships needing workers. They will not go without."
"Thank you for your generous offer, noble Sealord. When I return to Meereen I will let my subjects know of your offer and any who would seek refuge underneath the Titan may do so."
Antaryon watched her closely for a moment before he admitted, "I had sought to meet you, much out of curiosity for the remaining Targaryen and your wondrous dragon," the Sealord's gaze darted to Ghidorah's golden bulk lounging next to the barge before he continued, "For the Sealord's menagerie is well known across the sea, none have ever had a dragon. Of course, after the Doom they have been tamed only by the Targaryens and none other."
"I have heard tales of sea serpents, perhaps one would be more to Braavos' taste."
The Sealord laughed at her jape, even if his Sword didn't twitch. She didn't miss how his hands were shaking when he took a quick swallow of the goblet of wine to his side, much like Aemon's own would tremble. The sign of a bone deep illness. She pushed it from her thoughts, her attention returning back to the Sealord as he spoke, "Indeed. We have many stories of such creatures, including leviathans and krakens. Perhaps one day they can join my menagerie but until then I must long from afar. But meeting you is closer than those other tales, even if the stories surrounding you make it difficult to work which is myth or truth."
"The Masters enjoy spinning many a wild tale about me," Daenerys said. She had not been oblivious to the many vicious rumours they spread about her. The oddest one she found was the rumour she bathed in the blood of maidens to keep herself young. She did not know what age the Masters thought her as as she was barely a young woman as is.
"Indeed they do yet you shall strip them bare soon enough I feel. On that regard I have an offer. The Lannisters would brag of paying their debts but it seems the children are far more blind than their father, for all his arrogance the old lion was not foolish even with him dying upon the privy with a crossbolt to the heart. Already the queen mother Cersei Lannister has angered the Iron Bank which those of sound mind know better. The Iron Bank has closed their treasury to Westeros and are demanding all loans repaid. Westerosi may be warriors, but we Braavosi are traders and we understand the importance of coin. The Iron Bank especially, and they have already offered to give you substantial loans if you chose to visit the Bank and request such a thing. They will offer monetary aid gladly if you should seek it."
Daenerys was quite caught off guard by the abrupt offer from the Sealord, along with the revelation another of the Usurper's dogs was dead.
The Iron Bank would have its due, was the saying.
That he was being so blunt surprised her. Despite her assurances she had not arrived in Braavos to attack Westeros she was unsure if the Sealord even believed her. If the late Tywin Lannister's daughter was refusing to repay her loans then the Iron Bank would be willing to bankroll Daenerys' own campaign. It was something she had been taught as a child in Pentos, to beware the Iron Bank and their debts. If the Iron Throne refused the Iron Bank then they would obviously be willing to lend a hand to anyone seeking to overthrow the betrayal.
After a long moment Daenerys replied carefully, "Thank you for such a generous offer, noble Sealord. I will keep it greatly in mind."
"Nay, thank you Lady Daenerys. Never did I think I would witness a dragon in my lifetime, much less one being bound to a Targaryen of integrity and so eager to spill the blood of the Masters. It gladdens me so, especially from the history of Old Valyria and the dragonlords of yore yet it seems Aegon the Conqueror's blood has won out. Keep your course as is and Braavos will continue to see you as a friend."
"I wish for you to have this."
Aemon's voice was barely a whisper, the chill in his lungs sapping whatever strength the old man had until he was now unable to even push himself upright when he awoke at noon. Daenerys had only left his side to see the privy, otherwise she was a constant presence next to his prone form and keeping a firm grasp of his hand between hers. Once her meeting with the Sealord was done, she had retreated back to her lodgings and helped feed Aemon with the food provided by the diligent Camern. Even the difference from the previous night it was startling almost how he had weakened so badly. She doubted he could even stand on his own anymore.
He had been telling her about the Night's Watch, recounting the numerous brothers in black and commanders who had vanished into their ranks to be lost when he'd abruptly stopped. Concerned, she'd leaned before and gently shook his hand when he spoke that strange sentence.
"Uncle, what-"
She fell silent as Aemon's blue tinted hands slid free of hers and started to tug at the intricate chain around his neck, the links glinting in the sunlight streaming through the window as he struggled to pull it over his head. She helped him, still confused as to his intention as she helped spool the maester chain onto his hands only to be surprised when he pushed it towards her.
"Please, take it," he wheezed, blind eyes staring vaguely in her direction.
"I cannot. Chains are only for a maester, it is a great shame for one to be forced to surrender them-"
"Please. They are all that remains. I have nothing else and my flesh is failing me. I cannot... I have no other possessions with me. Nothing else to give you. When I am fed to the flames of a pyre I will leave naught but ash. So. Please, take them. They are all I have and I want you to have them."
Daenerys was no maester but the desperate tone in Aemon's voice left her no grounds for refusal. After a moment of hesitation to gently pulled the long link of chain from his hands. Instead of draping them over her shoulders, like a maester would, she instead rose so she could settle the chain around her hips. She had to reposition her cloak and fumbled with the chains for several moments before the chain hung right, having to awkwardly knot the excess at her right hip. The links clinked against each other softly, adding to the gentle noise of the bells in her hair.
Aemon's distressed expression soothed over as he heard the noise, settling with her acceptance of his final possession. Daenerys would never be a maester but this was a gift she could keep.
"Something, something to remember," Aemon's gnarled fingers kneaded at the furs. "I had nothing when I went to the Wall and I then had only ghosts for company as the decades passed."
She sat back down, the chain clinking again. Aemon reached out, brushing a knuckle against the tangle at her hip with unnerving accuracy for a blind man.
"Each link for each subject mastered. I spent years at the Citadel, learning so much, surrounded by books and others hungry to learn. Knowledge is a weapon. You must arm yourself well before you ride forth to this war. The Iron Throne means nothing before the dead and the Others. Fire consumes, but cold preserves. When the Others get beyond the Wall- for they will, I do not know how or when but they will -everything will freeze beneath the cold until the Land of Always Winter will be all of Westeros."
"But who could know of them? I am on the other end of the world, and barely any know of Essosi mysteries," Daenerys said, gripping at the chain around her waist. It was warm against her skin.
"The same could be said for the Others. They can be killed, that I know. Fire, obsidian, dragonglass. They shatter like glass, like breaking diamonds to be nothing but ice left behind. My steward slew one, stabbed it in the throat with a dagger of dragonglass when he saved Gilly and her child. Your dragon, your three headed dragon, must be able to kill the Others the same. Yet the Others are unlike Men, they are beings of magic and mystery, when you face them you must be careful. You must watch and wait and learn. You and he will be the last dragon in the world and must bring the dawn. But I cannot tell you how. Oh brave niece of mine, such an unkind burden you must take."
"I am the blood of dragons, just as you," Daenerys said, grabbing Aemon's wrist. "I will not run and cower from these creatures, Masters of another name and they need to die just as they do. Fire and blood is our lot. I swear to you Aemon, I will not let humanity be forgotten. There is good in us, I know it. We can commit terrible things but we can commit glorious acts as just an opposite. I will join the fight for the living when the time comes, I will. And I will remember you, your words and your chain and let them guide me even if you cannot be with me when I face them."
Aemon struggled to keep his blind eyes open but before he fell back into slumber he managed to say, "That is all I can ask of you, my brave queen and gentle niece. Perhaps the Gods have finally offered me a final reprieve, to have you with me after so much sorrow in my life. You must be as fierce as a storm and unyielding as the mountains."
That was his last good day.
Aemon deteriorated severely with that, his breath raspy and wet with his skin growing clammy like the belly of a dead fish. His fingers would twitch and flex, eyes staring at nothing as he shivered beneath the furs. When he did speak his words were slurred and nonsensical even if Daenerys did her best to remember each and every word. He said the sphinx was the riddle, not the riddler, a candle which would not be lit and eggs which would not hatch, of flapping griffins and wyverns and the taste of strawberries and sweet plum wine, of a hen on the Wall and Egg with an egg, and how he remembered the ship freezing until it sounded as if coated in broken glass as they crossed the Narrow Sea. At one point he requested that Daenerys read to him, from a book penned by Septon Barth. It was a book Daenerys herself had tried to find to no avail but she would simply tell Aemon again of all she knew of Ghidorah and it seemed to soothe his ramblings as he fell back into a shallow rest.
Once he woke up weeping. "The dragon must have three heads," he insisted to her, his grip on her hand painful and jolting her awake. "but I am too old and frail to be one of them. You're alone and a Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing."
He asked for his brother Egg regularly, mistaking Daenerys for Aegon and being confused as to why he couldn't see or why his body ached so. Daenerys felt her despair grow as Aemon's senses left him, especially when he addressed her as Rhae at one point and asked after her children. Through their link and Ghidorah's vigilance she could sense her child's confusion as to Aemon's collapsing state even if he did not leave his guard of her. She didn't know how to explain it to him and felt on the edge of tears as her last family member deteriorated before her.
Another part of her knew she was lingering too long in Braavos, for it had been three days now since she had arrived in the city. Meereen had been left undefended and she had to hope Grey Worm, Missandei and Barristan were vigilant in her absence. She wanted to go back to her people but she could not leave Aemon. Not as he suffered so. It was different than watching a man die from a sword or arrow. It was as if Aemon's mind was devouring itself and she barely slept after his sudden collapse in senses.
"Ghost..." the man moaned at one point in the night, as Daenerys struggled to rouse him from his delierium as his skin burned under her touch. "Oh Ghost. What did they do to you? Red, red on the snow..."
At one point the steward attempted to enter the house but Ghidorah chased him away. Daenerys couldn't even bring herself to care, despairing over Aemon and struggling to hold her grief in check. With Viserys died it was screaming and the reek of boiling flesh then silence. This slow, horrid dying was beyond her.
Once, when Aemon was mumbling to himself with feverish sweat dotting his skin and hands clawing at the furs her gaze slid to one of the lush pillows upon the bed. She thought of how she smothered Drogo, pressed a pillow to his unseeing face and held it down until his breath left his body.
She did nothing, instead comforted Aemon as best she could in his dying moments.
Because that was what was happening. She could sense it and smell it but she had promised to be by his side until the end and she would stay. So she soothed his mumbling and wet his feverish brow with a damp cloth, dribbled water past his chapped lips. And when he mistook her for Targaryens long dead and even once for his mother Dyanna Dayne, she did not deny him. Instead gently stroking at the spotted taunt skin of his bald scalp like how a mother would soothe her babe. She settled on the bed next to him, her legs across his lap and murmuring stories to him and songs she could remember. Aemon hummed along sometimes but other times he talked of the stars he remembered or complained how it was so dark and clutched at her in fright.
Through it all she not once complained, even when she missed meals as the day became long and Ghidorah's concern grew. She would stay and remain vigil even if Aemon was now in a shallow doze.
Aemon suddenly lurching towards her made her twitch violently, hands gripping her shoulders and milky eyes boring into hers. She caught him without hesitation, her arms around his back as she steadied him as he wheezed, "There is ice and there is fire. Hate and love. Bitter and sweet, winter and summer. Evil and good. Death and life. Everywhere, opposites. Fire is love, fire is passion, ice is betrayal, ice is revenge. Fire and blood."
Then Aemon's entire body slumped, like a puppet with its strings cut as the life sighed out of him in a final exhale. His head fell to the curve of her neck and shoulder, arms falling down to the fur blankets as she tightened her grip around him.
Daenerys remained frozen, her arms wrapped around Aemon's body and she knew. She knew the moment he collapsed against her, in that boneless way. Only the dead fell that way. Ghidorah made a distressed rumble outside, the window groaning slightly as he nudged it with a snout as he felt the yawning despair fill his mother. Daenerys struggled to settle Aemon back on the blankets, his body dead weight as she laid him down. His sightless eyes were now lifeless as well, shiny like marbles in a market as his breath was still in his lungs.
With shaking fingers Daenerys reached down and gently, so gently, slid Aemon's eyes shut before she pressed a kiss to the dead man's brow, his skin still warm against her lips.
Valar morghulis, Daenerys thought even as the tears began to slide down her cheeks.
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