"I think so too," Viserys said. "Whatever the future holds, I will use my Dragon to protect the Targaryen bloodline and everyone I care about."
Aemon smiled, his expression full of relief. "That is enough, child. That is enough."
He tightened his grip on Viserys's hand. "I am over a hundred years old. I have spent a lifetime at the Wall. I thought I would die quietly here, carrying my family's regrets to the grave, but now I can rest easy. The True Dragon has returned, and House Targaryen has a future. I can die without regrets."
"You need not stay here," Viserys said. "Once I take the Iron Throne, I can bring you back to Dragonstone. It is a symbol of our family, and it is warm and sunny. You could spend your remaining years in comfort there."
Aemon shook his head firmly. "No, Viserys. I swore my vows here, and I have spent most of my life here. This is where I belong, just as you belong on the Iron Throne. Besides, I am too old to endure such a long journey. To see you with my own eyes... no, to hear your voice with my own ears is enough."
They talked for a long time, about their family's history, the state of Westeros, and the Wall's plight. When night grew late and Clydas came in to remind Aemon that he needed to rest, the old man was exhausted, but very happy.
"Go, child," Aemon said at last. "Do what you must. Retrieve our family's sword, discover the truth north of the Wall, then return to your Empire and reclaim the Iron Throne that rightfully belongs to our family. Only, before you leave the Wall, come see this old man again."
"I will remember," Viserys said as he