As he was about to enter the castle hall, an old man in maester's robes came out toward him, followed by two young maesters who were trembling slightly.
The old man raised his head and looked at Viserys coming through the doorway. A flicker of complicated emotion passed through his clouded eyes.
"Your Grace, Princess Rhaenys..." he murmured. "I never thought you would truly return."
"Hello, Maester Cressen. I never thought we would meet again." Viserys could not help feeling a little wistful, while Rhaenys silently nodded in greeting. After all, she had only been three at the time, and her memories of Dragonstone were little more than a vague impression.
This old maester was the very man who had helped crown him on Dragonstone all those years ago. He had already been quite old then, yet more than a decade later, he was still alive.
Maesters were a unique group, men appointed by the Citadel to serve the lord of each castle. They did not care who ruled the castle, and their appointments were generally for life. Only when they died or could no longer handle their duties would the Citadel arrange for an assistant maester to help.
But only the maesters serving great lords enjoyed that privilege, since the Citadel did not have an unlimited supply of maesters. Of course, not all of them followed those rules. Grand Maester Pycelle, who received considerable attention in the original story, secretly served Tywin, while Maester Luwin of Winterfell died protecting the children of House Stark.
All of that went against the principles maesters were supposed to uphold. Besides, Viserys believed most maesters were merely informants sent out by the Citadel to keep constant watch over the Seven Kingdoms.
"I nearly died not long ago, but the Stranger did not take