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A long, black cloak with gold brocade draped over his shoulders, shining silver armor, and noble silver hair. Even though he'd heard tales of him from the Night's Watch, Samwell Tarly was still shocked when he saw him in person.
As if surprised by the presence of women, Sam saw the silver-haired knight's puzzled eyes linger on Gilly and Val.
"Who is he?" Gilly asked, her voice filled with curiosity. The silver-white armor and the colorful cloak had completely captured her attention. Val, too, was watching.
He didn't approach them, but instead ascended the spiral staircase, heading towards the Crow's Nest.
Cole pushed open the door to the Crow's Nest and entered the Maester's room, which was crammed with books and various bottles and jars. Though the old Maester was blind, he was still familiar with every bottle on the table. "It seems like just yesterday, my child," Maester Aemon said softly when the sound of leather hitting the floor reached his ears, distinguishing Cole's footsteps.
"Time is the cruelest test the gods in heaven have," Aemon continued gently. "Cole, Daeron was the oldest, but Aegon was younger than me.
Yet, the gods allowed me to live the longest. Time has made me witness the death of my family, the decline of my House, and even its destruction.
When the raven brought news of the Targaryens from the south, I was profoundly saddened. In my dream, I saw a pair of innocent eyes falling into a pool of blood. It was your cry that woke me from that sorrowful dream."
"Watching you grow," he said, full of emotion, "I seemed to see Egg again. He was the same: first a tiny babe in his mother's arms, then growing taller than me. Life truly is the greatest creation of the gods."
Cole listened to his memories quietly, just as he had as a child. Back then, he always had many questions, and Grandfather Aemon would answer each one. That's how Cole learned to listen.
"I've received the letter, Grandfather Aemon," Cole told the Maester.
Aemon nodded. "The Citadel is a good place, but it's not suitable for you, child. I didn't think it through well enough." His tone held a slight apology.
Cole knew what the Maester was thinking. Although Cole had never opened the letter of recommendation, he had guessed its contents. Life in the Seven Kingdoms wasn't easy, especially for someone like him with no established identity. The Targaryen name was a heavy burden from the start.
If he were to live a peaceful life, why not simply marry and have children, spending his days ordinarily? This was Maester Aemon's hope for him. Perhaps Aegon was the bright savior born from the stars in the prophecy, but Cole was not.
Aemon believed that once Cole traveled enough throughout the Seven Kingdoms, he would naturally understand the kind of world it was.
The Citadel was the choice Aemon had offered him. After learning his identity, Cole could either stay in the Citadel and completely abandon that identity, or he could leave with the letter and embrace the responsibilities of a Targaryen.
Clearly, Cole had no real choice, because the letter wasn't personally delivered to him by the Citadel, but sent by Prince Oberyn. When he received the letter from Oberyn, he had automatically accepted the responsibility on his shoulders. Even if he desired freedom in the vast sea of the world, his identity as a Targaryen would inevitably pull him into the eye of the storm in Westeros.
"Grandfather Aemon, what about Cole's identity?"
"After Cole chose to swear his vows and wear the black, he had already given up his identity. He is a good boy," Aemon said, thinking Cole was worried about how Cole's identity might affect him. Ravens arrived from the south only rarely, so the Night's Watch remained unaware of the happenings around the Iron Throne.
Yet, Aemon sensed a change in Cole. Just as he had warned Aegon, Cole had killed the innocent, romantic 'Little Egg' on the Wall. He had become a true man.
Cole smiled bitterly; Maester Aemon had clearly misunderstood his meaning.
"When I was a child, you told me the stories of Maegor and Aemond," Cole began. "I still remember them vividly." He spoke of cruel Maegor I Targaryen and the kings slayer, Aemond Targaryen.
Maester Aemon smiled.
"Grandfather Maester," Cole asked, changing the subject and addressing another pressing concern, "do you know how to cure greyscale?"
"Greyscale," the Maester murmured softly, frowning. In the Citadel, some maesters used lime and mustard mixed with water to make ointments to prevent the disease's spread, but a definitive cure had never been revealed in any book or by any person. It seemed to have always been a major, incurable human affliction.
"Can you tell me who he is, my child?" the Maester's tone was full of worry.
"My fiancée, Shireen Baratheon."
"Gods have mercy, poor little one," the Maester's words were filled with pain, and he shook his head. "Forgive me for not being able to help you, little Cole."
Looking at the Maester's sad face, Cole suddenly regretted bringing it up.
"Maester Aemon!" The door to the Crow's Nest opened again, and a stout figure entered.
Cole turned his gaze. With dark hair and a big, round face, Samwell Tarly couldn't help but shrink his neck and lower his head under Cole's scrutiny.
"I… I…" His voice was weak and hesitant. Facing Cole, he felt a similar trepidation to what he felt around his father, Randyll Tarly.
"Sam," the Maester called him softly. "This child is my assistant now, helping me feed the crows and sort the letters from the Seven Kingdoms."
Cole offered him a kind smile, but Sam still didn't dare to look up.
"I'll go feed the ravens," Sam said in a low voice.
"I know you, Samwell Tarly," Cole said to him. "The son of Randyll Tarly. I think Lord Randyll would be proud if he knew his son killed a White Walker."
Sam was momentarily stunned. He wanted to ask: Really?
"Cole told me that you like reading very much."
"Yes, sir. It's one of my few hobbies," Sam answered.
"Don't be nervous," Cole said, seeing his legs shaking. "Am I scarier than a White Walker?"
"Please forgive my rudeness, sir." He looked on the verge of tears.
"I thought we'd have a lot of topics to talk about. Have you read The Four Kings?" Cole tried to make his tone gentle.
"I've read a copy of it."
"That's great. I should pour you a glass of wine and ask you something about the Four Kings."
Sam glanced at Maester Aemon and thought: If anyone in the Seven Kingdoms knows the deeds of the four kings—Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good—it must be old Maester Aemon.
"You should forgive the boy. Although he is smart, he is not very brave," the Maester said, hearing that Sam hadn't responded for a long time.
"Did you bring those two ladies back?" Cole continued to ask him.
"Yes, my lord," he answered nervously. Sam remembered the Night's Watch oath. This was no place for women.
"What are you going to do?" Cole asked, without a hint of blame. "Staying in Castle Black is not a long-term solution. If you can't place them, I can help you."
Sam looked at him warily. Cole's face made Sam feel ashamed. "I have to ask Gilly about this."
"Gilly? A good name. I remember it seems to mean 'carnation.' Is she the lady with black hair?"
Sam nodded. He struggled internally for a moment, then suddenly, his voice trembling, said, "My lord, I wonder if you could let Mance Rayder see his child."
"Is that Mance's child?" Cole's tone suddenly became serious. He knew the Queen of the King-Beyond-the-Wall had given birth to his son, and he had even used this knowledge to try and lure Mance to cooperate with him, but the child wasn't actually in his possession.
"Yes, yes." Cole's change in tone made Sam's voice thin as cotton.
"Okay, I agree." Cole adjusted his expression, hoping to conceal his feelings, but Maester Aemon still heard the joy in Cole's words.
Sam forced a smile, feeling sweat trickle down his cheeks.
"Maester Aemon, I have matters to attend to in the camp, so I'll take my leave."
"Go do your thing, child."
When Cole's footsteps faded into the distance, Aemon said to Sam, "He chose a difficult path."