Chapter 126: Another Targaryen
"Bring Jon inside. I'll treat his wounds. So… you're the wildling woman Jon mentioned?"
The door creaked open, and Samwell's large figure stepped out as he spoke.
When the wildlings had stormed in earlier, Sam had been hiding inside the house, too frightened to come out. From there he had witnessed almost the entire scene—how Jon had been injured.
Knowing that the wildling girl likely meant him no harm, he finally gathered the courage to come out and help treat Jon.
Hearing Sam's words, Ygritte was surprised.
She hadn't expected that Jon had actually mentioned her to others.
Looking at Sam's honest and gentle expression, she felt that he probably wouldn't harm either her or Jon.
Still, to be safe, she glanced at Jon, who was still conscious.
When he nodded slightly to reassure her, she quickly dragged him inside the house.
After shutting the door and bolting it securely, Sam asked Ygritte to support Jon while he fetched medicine.
He carefully removed Jon's upper clothing, gently pulled out the two arrows embedded in his body, applied medicine to the wounds, and wrapped them with bandages.
Ygritte stood beside the bed, staring at Jon lying there.
She didn't know whether she should leave… or stay.
Naturally, she should return outside and continue fighting the Night's Watch.
But those men were Jon's brothers.
And Jon had just saved her life.
If she went back out and kept killing the Night's Watch…
how would she ever face Jon again?
"You should stay here for now," Sam said, sensing her hesitation.
"Oh—by the way, my name is Samwell, from House Tarly. And you are…?"
"My name is Ygritte."
Among the wildlings, people had only a single name—no family name.
Sam opened his mouth to say something else.
But before he could finish—
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Someone began pounding violently on the door.
Sam had just been about to make some small talk when the door was suddenly pounded violently.
Through the window, Sam saw that it was members of the Night's Watch. He quickly signaled for Ygritte to hide.
"Sam! So you were hiding in here!" the man outside said with a mocking tone when he saw him.
"Jon was badly wounded by arrows. I had to stay here and take care of him," Sam replied, glancing toward Jon lying on the bed.
"Hmph."
The man knew Sam wasn't much of a fighter. Seeing Jon lying there pale and injured, he didn't say anything further. He closed the door and returned outside to continue fighting the wildlings.
Sam slid the bolt back into place and let Ygritte come out.
Ygritte realized she could no longer go out to fight. All she could do was stay by Jon's side, anxiously waiting to hear the outcome of the battle outside.
---
More than an hour later, the door was knocked on again.
When Sam looked outside and saw Pyp, he immediately opened the door.
"How's Jon—" Pyp began, but then he froze.
"…Who is she?"
He had come as soon as the battle ended after hearing Jon had been wounded. The last thing he expected was to find a woman inside the room—especially one dressed like a wildling.
"She's Jon's…" Sam hurried to explain when he saw both of them instinctively reaching for their weapons.
But halfway through the sentence, he stopped.
He didn't quite know how to describe their relationship.
Still, Pyp understood the implication. He slowly sheathed the sword he had begun to draw and walked over to check Jon's wounds.
Jon had been drifting in and out of consciousness, but he hadn't truly slept. The sounds of shouting and battle outside made it impossible to rest.
"How is it outside?" Jon asked through the pain in his chest when he saw Pyp.
"We held the wall."
Pyp replied, then looked toward Ygritte, who stood there uncertainly.
"She can't stay here. You know that."
Many in the Night's Watch had never fully accepted Jon after he had once joined the wildlings. Although he had endured Alliser Thorne's interrogation and proven that he had infiltrated them only to gather information, Thorne's faction still distrusted him.
If they discovered he was hiding a wildling woman again, the accusations would return—and Ygritte might not survive it.
"I'll leave now," Ygritte said to Jon.
She could see that his injuries were not fatal, and staying would only cause him trouble.
"You… cough… wait until dark," Jon said with difficulty. "Pyp will take you out of the castle."
Jon knew Ygritte was stubborn, but if she went outside now, she would only be captured—or killed—by the Night's Watch.
Pyp glanced at Ygritte, then nodded.
"Hide here for now. I'll come for you tonight."
Knowing that Pyp was someone Jon trusted, Ygritte silently nodded.
---
The small wildling assault had been repelled.
But Jon found little comfort in the victory. Beyond the Wall, far more wildlings were gathering.
That night, wrapped in a black cloak, Ygritte was quietly escorted out of Castle Black by Pyp.
Only then could Jon finally rest and focus on recovering from his wounds.
---
But the next day Sam brought him troubling news.
Maester Aemon was gravely ill.
This time, it seemed unlikely he would survive.
Supported by Sam, Jon made his way to the bedside of the old man.
Maester Aemon—who once had a claim to the Iron Throne, yet had willingly given it up to his younger brother—now lay before them, a frail Targaryen elder nearing the end of his life.
Seeing his exhausted, fading face filled Jon with sorrow.
For seventy years, this man had faithfully upheld the vows of the Night's Watch.
He had helped Jon countless times.
Yet now, watching him weaken, Jon could do nothing.
"Sam… how is she now?" Aemon asked softly when he saw them arrive.
He nodded faintly to Jon before turning his blind eyes toward Sam.
Jon looked at Sam in confusion.
Who was the "she" that Master Aemon was thinking about even at the brink of death?
"Daenerys's academy has begun teaching," Sam said gently. "She has also established a Small Council, with Tyrion serving as her Hand."
Jon was stunned.
Daenerys? An academy? Tyrion the Imp as her Hand?
Since returning to the Wall, Jon had been consumed with reinforcing defenses. He hadn't heard any of this news.
But now was not the moment to interrupt.
"I never imagined that such a young girl could accomplish so much," Aemon murmured.
"She likely doesn't even know that a dying Targaryen, at the very edge of the world, has been watching her… unable to help her in any way."
He lifted his face toward the distant sky, shame in his voice.
"You should be proud of her," Sam said softly. "House Targaryen has produced a truly remarkable descendant."
"I wish… I could see the academy she founded with my own eyes…"
Aemon lowered his head again, regret in his voice.
A few minutes passed.
Then suddenly—
"Maester Aemon? Maester Aemon!"
Jon had still been wondering about the mysterious girl when he heard Sam's voice call out urgently.
He looked up.
Aemon's eyes were closed.
---
The death of Master Aemon was a heavy loss for the Night's Watch.
The venerable old Master had not only been a scholar and healer, but also the guiding mind of the Watch—a steady hand that had led them for decades.
After his passing, Sam wrote a solemn eulogy honoring the centenarian who had upheld his vows until his final breath.
After Aemon's body was cremated, Jon—his wounds nearly healed—returned to strengthening the defenses of the Wall, preparing for the much larger wildling assault that was sure to come.