That night, candlelight flickered inside the Maester's Tower at Castle Black.
Maester Aemon's room smelled of herbs and old parchment. Wrapped in a thick wool blanket, the old man sat in a badly worn high-backed chair.
His eyelids drooped over sunken eyes, but his wrinkled face was turned toward the door, as though he were waiting for something.
When Viserys pushed the door open and entered, his movements were quiet, but Aemon's keen ears still caught the sound. Clydas had already withdrawn, leaving only the two of them in the room.
"Great-great-uncle," Viserys called softly as he walked up to him.
Aemon's hands trembled as he tried to feel Viserys's face, but Viserys stopped him once again. He simply could not stand a stranger touching him, especially an old man.
Aemon could only murmur in a hoarse voice, "Child, how old are you?"
"Twenty."
"Twenty..." Aemon let out a long sigh. "The last time I saw a Targaryen was many years ago. I was still in the Red Keep in King's Landing then... Time. Time truly is the cruelest thief."
He motioned for Viserys to sit in the chair beside him.
"I've heard of your deeds in the east," Aemon said, his hollow eyes "looking" toward Viserys. "Ravens brought a few scraps of news, and some of the new men in the Night's Watch came from the south and talked. They said you tamed dragons, freed slaves, and founded a new empire... Is all of that true?"
"It is," Viserys replied. "I have more than one dragon, and one of them is very special. She's the one who came today. She has three heads and is golden all over. I named her King Ghidorah. There's also Blackflame, a jet-black dragon, who is guarding the family in Valyria now. Twelve hatchling