Aemon: “The Gods were cruel when they saw fit to test my vows. They waited till I was old. What could I do when the ravens brought the news from the South…the ruin of my House, the death of my family? I was helpless, blind, frail. But when I heard they had killed my brother’s son, and his poor son…And the children! Even the little children.”
I’m the last hope of a dynasty, Mormont. The greatest dynasty that this world has ever seen on my shoulders since I was five years old. And no one has ever given me what they gave to her in that tent. Never. Not a piece of it. How can I carry what I need to carry without it? Who can rule without wealth or fear or love?