Maester Aemon's POV – A Brother, A Prince, A Man of the Watch
Maester Aemon stood at the gates of Summerhall, the wind teasing at the edges of his black maester's robes. The castle was alive with the sounds of celebration, laughter and joy filling the air as the royal family gathered inside.
He should have been in there with them.
His heart ached at the thought. His brother, his nephew, his family—all together under one roof, their bonds rekindled after years of distance.
And yet, he did not belong.
Not anymore.
He had chosen his path long ago. When the call for a king had come, when the realm had whispered his name as the one who should sit on the Iron Throne, he had turned away.
"I took the black, so I would never have to choose between love and duty."
Yet, standing here, knowing he would be leaving at first light, he felt the ache of his choice like never before.
His violet gaze lifted toward the high balcony, where Duncan the Small stood, his newborn son in his arms, Jenny at his side.
Aemon.
The boy bore his name.
Not out of duty, not for political gain—but because Duncan had honoured him. Because, despite everything, he had not been forgotten.
A bittersweet smile ghosted across his lips.
Before leaving, he made his way to the chambers where the babe rested. Inside, Jenny hummed softly, rocking Aemon in her arms.
She looked up at him with a knowing smile. "You are leaving."
Aemon inclined his head. "The Wall waits for no man—not even a prince."
Jenny's expression saddened, but she nodded, stepping closer. "Would you like to hold him before you go?"
Aemon hesitated. He had held many children at the Citadel, assisted in births, and given care to the sick and the dying. But never had he held family—not like this.
Gently, she placed the babe in his arms.
Aemon stared down at his namesake.
Small, fragile, and yet something in his violet eyes felt old—as if he saw more than he should.
"You have been given a great name," Maester Aemon murmured, brushing a weathered finger across the child's cheek. "And a great legacy to bear."
Aemon Targaryen did not cry.
He simply looked at him, silent, watching.
"You will grow strong," Aemon whispered, his voice barely audible. "Stronger than any of us."
He pressed a soft kiss to the babe's forehead before returning him to Jenny.
As he turned to leave, Duncan stood at the door, arms crossed, watching. "You could stay, Uncle."
Aemon met his nephew's gaze, both knowing the answer before it was spoken. "No," he said softly. "My duty is elsewhere."
A silent understanding passed between them.
The last time they would ever see each other.
Maester Aemon did not look back as he walked away.
A cold wind followed him.
The last dragon who would ever serve the Night's Watch had left Summerhall behind—never knowing he had just escaped the coming fire.
Ser Duncan the Tall's POV – A Guardian's Watch
The hall was filled with warmth, the air buzzing with conversation and laughter. Wine flowed freely, and for the first time in years, the House of the Dragon was united.
Ser Duncan the Tall stood on the sidelines, watching over the gathering with his ever-present sense of duty.
He had always watched over Duncan.
From a reckless young prince to a man who had given up everything for love, Duncan the Small had never once regretted his choice.
And now, he had a son.
Aemon.
Duncan had asked him to stand as a protector for his boy, to be there as he had always been for him. Ser Duncan had agreed without hesitation.
Yet… something gnawed at his mind.
The king's eyes were too tired, his silences too long. The air around Summerhall felt charged, heavy with something unseen.
And the way Aegon spoke about the ritual, about "bringing them back"…
Ser Duncan did not like it.
But what could he say?
He was just a knight.
A simple, loyal knight who had sworn to protect his prince and now his son.
His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword.
No matter what happens, I will keep them safe.
If it is the last thing I do.
King Aegon V's POV – A Desperate Dream
The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the stone walls of his chambers.
Aegon V ran a weary hand down his face, staring at the ancient Valyrian glyphs on the table before him.
He was tired. So tired.
And yet, he could not stop now.
This is the only way.
The dragons were gone. House Targaryen had grown weak, relying on their name and legacy rather than the might that had once carved their rule into history.
But he had found a way.
He had spent years gathering knowledge, lost texts, and whispers of forgotten rituals.
And now, the final piece had arrived.
Blood.
Aegon turned, his gaze softening as he looked at the crib beside his desk.
Aemon.
His grandson slept peacefully, unaware of the weight of history pressing down upon his tiny shoulders.
He reached out, tracing a finger along the babe's silver hair.
"You should have been born into a world of dragons, little one," he whispered.
"But perhaps… if the gods are kind, I will give them back to you."
His hands curled into fists.
Tomorrow. It happens tomorrow.
He would bring the dragons back.
No matter the cost.
Gen POV- Final Moments.
Aemon lay nestled between his mother and father, wrapped in warmth, love, and the quiet peace of the evening.
Duncan ran a gentle hand through Jenny's dark hair, his other arm draped protectively over his son.
"Do you think he'll be strong?" Jenny murmured, her voice laced with the quiet wonder of motherhood.
"He already is," Duncan chuckled. "He did not cry when he was born, remember?"
Jenny smiled softly, brushing a kiss against Aemon's small forehead.
"He will be kind," she whispered. "A prince who loves his people. A prince who does not seek war, but peace."
Duncan hummed. "And if the world does not let him be kind?"
Jenny's grip on Aemon tightened.
"Then I pray that he will never lose his heart."
Duncan kissed her temple, closing his eyes.
For now, they could pretend.
For now, they could dream.
As the room grew quiet, Jenny began to sing.
A soft, mournful tune, filled with love and sorrow.
🕊️ "Sleep, my child, the stars are bright,
The moon will guard you through the night.
Dream of fields, so green and wide,
Where dragons dance, and dreams won't hide."
🌙 "Hush, my love, the winds may cry,
But I will keep you safe nearby.
No fire, no storm, no fate unkind,
Shall steal the light within your mind."
🔥 "But if the dawn should bring despair,
If a fire takes the peaceful air,
Remember love, remember light,
Remember hope burns just as bright."
Her voice was soft, filled with an aching finality that none of them understood.
Duncan closed his eyes, pressing a kiss to her head.
Aemon drifted to sleep, unaware that these moments would soon be gone.
Outside, the storm began to gather.
And tomorrow, the fire would come.