"It really is a Targaryen... it's Daenerys."Seeing Dany's silver hair, violet eyes, and the faintly familiar, delicate features, the gray-robed elder trembled as he reached out his right hand, as if to confirm with his own touch that the figure before him wasn't an illusion.
"Hraaah—"Dany stood still, but beside her, Drogon and Viserion both sneezed toward the old man. The elder scholar snapped back to reality, wiped away the tears streaming down his cheeks, and smiled as he bowed in royal etiquette."Forgive my rudeness. Maester Aemon of the Night's Watch greets Your Majesty."
Dany nodded slightly and studied him. "I know who you are, Aemon Targaryen, elder brother of my great-grandfather Aegon."
"Aegon... Aegon..."The old man paused, his eyes clouded with memories. He murmured, "You called him Aegon. Yes, he was Aegon—my younger brother."
"I've been to the Citadel and read through the Targaryen family history," Dany said.
Daenerys's great-grandfather's full name was "Aegon Targaryen," the fifth of his name. But he had a nickname—"Egg." Family and friends called him Egg more often than Aegon.
To put it in more colloquial terms, "Egg" would be something like "Iron Egg," "Little Egg," or "Egghead" in modern lingo.
As for Aegon and Aemon's relationship—well, think of the bond between Sasuke and Itachi.
Aemon exiled himself, took the black, and joined the Night's Watch so that his younger brother could inherit the throne.
—Neither of them were the eldest son. After their older brother's death, Aemon was next in line. The Great Council even quietly offered him the crown, but Aemon declined on the grounds that he was already a maester.
To avoid interfering with his brother's reign, he left King's Landing of his own will, donned black, and took the double vows of a maester and a brother of the Night's Watch, ensuring that no noble could use his name to raise rebellion against Egg.
Likewise, Egg, unwilling to let his brother go to the Wall alone, emptied the dungeons and sent countless prisoners to accompany Aemon. He even dispatched the royal fleet to carry thousands north to the Wall in grand procession.
Such brotherly love!
"Who are you?" Dany turned to the bearded man supporting Aemon.
"Y-Your Majesty, greetings."The bearded man awkwardly dropped to one knee and gave a stiff bow. "I'm Jon Snow, scribe to Lord Commander Mormont."
Needless to say, standing tall and looking down at the male lead gave Dany a quiet sense of satisfaction—but still...
"Eddard Stark's bastard?" she asked, puzzled.
"Your Majesty knows me?" Jon looked up, startled.
Dany crossed her arms and tilted her head, examining Jon's weathered face, his tangled and filthy beard, and the eyes that had seen too much."I remember you were about my age. Why do you look so... prematurely aged?"
"Prematurely aged?" Jon was confused.
"Hahaha!"Ser Barristan, who had been trembling with cold, burst out laughing. "She's saying you look too old! No wonder—you're not even seventeen yet, but you look over thirty!"
"This maester—oh, a maester," Aemon said, eyeing the chain on Barristan's chest and the copper ring on his right index finger. "May I ask who you are, maester?"
"Maester Aemon, greetings. I'm Perestan, Doctor of History."
"Oh, I know you. I never thought you'd come here."Aemon looked at Dany, then back at the old scholar, smiling with satisfaction.
It seemed the young girl, long wandering outside Westeros, still respected Westerosi traditions—she'd even gone to the Citadel to seek out a maester to assist her.
And the Citadel had responded with sincerity, sending her a highly esteemed elder scholar.
Aemon's expression grew solemn again. He cast a glance at the embarrassed and uneasy Jon and said earnestly,"Your Majesty, Doctor Perestan, please don't mock Jon.This is the Wall. He was once fresh-faced too, but the Night's Watch is no place for southern noble youths. Here, they face snow and storm to guard the realm, each one weathered and forged into true steel."
"Heh," Dany smiled and nodded. She turned to Jon and said,"My apologies, Jon Snow. I wasn't mocking your appearance.It's just... as soon as I entered Westeros, I heard of you.I even read some of your records at the Citadel.I was simply curious."
"I'm... famous?"Jon's scruffy face twisted into an awkward expression.
"I flew from Slaver's Bay, heading west over Valyria, Lys, and Storm's End. On the way, I encountered a Dayne, and even circled over Starfall.And this white knight beside me has... deep feelings for your rumored mother. We've spoken of you many times."
"Your Majesty, there's no need to go into such detail," Ser Barristan said awkwardly.
"Who? Who was my mother?" Jon asked excitedly.
"Ashara Dayne, sister to Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning—though Ser Barristan denies it."
"Hraaah!"Drogon let out a loud cry.
Dany turned her head toward the courtyard. "Someone's coming."
Jon and Aemon looked back to see a burly, pot-bellied man with one arm walking their way.
"That's Donal Noye, the blacksmith and acting commander of Castle Black," Aemon introduced.
Donal looked to be in his forties. He had no left arm—his left sleeve was pinned at the shoulder. His chin was covered in black beard, and he was tall, broad, and muscular.
He walked over without bowing, frowned as he studied Dany, and asked rather rudely,"You're a Targaryen?"
Aemon glanced at Dany nervously. Seeing her only raise an eyebrow without showing anger, he quietly reminded the blacksmith,"This is the daughter of King Aerys—Her Majesty Daenerys."
"In the two years since King Robert's death, Westeros has seen six kings. Four are already dead, and now there's another..."Donal muttered under his breath. The nearby men paled at his words, and Aemon quickly tugged his sleeve, warning him,"Her Majesty saved us. She was the only monarch who responded to our plea for help and came to defend the Wall."
"That's not certain..."Donal trailed off, forced a bow, and said reluctantly,"Your Majesty, we are deeply grateful for your aid at the Wall."
Dany had been watching the blacksmith and Aemon converse with an indifferent expression. When the one-armed man finally bowed, she raised two fingers and said softly,"You're mistaken on two counts. First, I am not a king. And don't lump me in with that trash. All six of them combined aren't worthy to be my opponents.They fight over the title 'King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men.' I am walking the path of world conquest. Westeros isn't even the hardest bone to chew."
"You're mad! What nonsense are you spouting?"The one-armed blacksmith stared at her in shock, as if she were the second coming of the Mad King.
"Your Majesty..."Aemon's expression was filled with worry, unsure how to advise her.
"Robb never lost a battle. He's not trash!"Jon's face flushed red as he argued.
Dany lifted her chin slightly, gazed at the moon hanging in the sky, and sighed,"Ah... the information here is too limited.You don't even know who I am."
"Aren't you Daenerys Targaryen?" Jon asked.
You think bringing two dragons makes you all that?
"Jon Snow, you know nothing!" Dany pointed at the red-nosed old scholar. "You explain it to them."
"There's not much to explain," the red-nosed old man rubbed his frostbitten, red nose. "The Dragon Queen is merely waging a world war against the Nine Free Cities, New Ghis, Qarth, and several slave-trading organizations in the Jade Sea."
Jon.Aemon.The blacksmith.This act… I want to deduct points, but your skill just won't allow it!I was about to punish you by sending you beyond the Wall to kill a few wights. But now…
Dany was feeling pleased, but the old man continued immediately, "But since the Dragon Queen's enemies are far too many and too powerful, she surely won't make it past the allied forces. Even if she miraculously survives, she'll most likely have to return to Westeros to vie for the Iron Throne."
Looks like the old man thinks killing wights isn't thrilling enough—he wants to go after the White Walkers!
(Wights are reanimated corpses controlled by the White Walkers; White Walkers are created from wildling infants by the Night King.)
"Alright, titles are just a formality. I'm not forcing anyone to call me Queen. I haven't claimed the Iron Throne yet anyway. Call me however you like—my name is fine too."
Dany waved her hand to end the topic of royalty, then looked seriously at Jon and the others. "If there were only wildlings beyond the Wall, I wouldn't have traveled ten thousand miles to this godforsaken place.
Tell me—are White Walkers real or not?"
Blacksmith Donal and Jon looked at Dany in surprise, not expecting her to be so straightforward.
Aemon studied Dany again and nodded with satisfaction. "You know about the White Walkers?"
"I read the Night's Watch letters at the Citadel. It's a matter of great importance—I had to come and confirm it myself."
Jon couldn't help but feel a bit of respect for her. He sighed, "Others—kings, great lords, even the Citadel—they all think we're lying. We sent several batches of ravens, but most never replied. And the few who did only scolded us for spreading nonsense."
"Why do you believe it's real?"
"Because they don't have access to mystical powers—but I do!"
Snap! Dany snapped her fingers, and a flame the size of a bean quietly burned on her fingertip.
"Magic?!"
"Fire sorcery?!"
The three were shocked.
Extinguishing the flame, Dany continued, "Judging by your reactions, I'd say the White Walkers are real."
"They absolutely are!" Aemon nodded gravely. "Commander Mormont led 300 men north of the Wall. They didn't even encounter the wildling army—not that it'd matter. Three hundred well-equipped rangers could scatter a force ten times their size.
But they were ambushed at the Fist of the First Men by a massive White Walker army—hundreds, even thousands. Normal weapons can't kill them. Cut off their heads or pierce their hearts—they'll still get back up and fight. Even our fallen brothers rise again, turned into new White Walkers."
"You're not lying?" the red-nosed old man widened his eyes, voice trembling.
"Sigh… In a matter this deadly, how could I dare to make things up?" Old Aemon shook his head and sighed.
The old blacksmith looked at Dany with a complicated expression and invited, "Your Majesty, the night is cold. Let's return to the castle to continue this discussion."
Dany glanced at the struggling, shouting red-haired wildling woman in the distance and smiled. "No rush. I'll stay here to make sure all the captives are locked up. Otherwise, once I leave, the wildlings might surrender today and rebel tomorrow."
Looks like her arrival saved someone who should've died in this small skirmish.
(End of Chapter)
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