A moment of peace

The waters of the Honeywine, carrying the faint fragrance of ink and paper, flowed slowly through the arch of the stone bridge.

As Daemon and his companions approached the Citadel with Bethany Hightower and Mund Hightower, the first thing that caught their eye was the green Sphinx statues flanking the main entrance—a lion's body with outstretched eagle wings, its serpentine tail curling gracefully across the stone slabs. The left statue had a majestic, masculine face, while the right one had softer lines, a feminine silhouette. Sunlight fell on the scales of the statues, giving them a warm glow.

"These Sphinxes have stood here since the founding of the Citadel," said Bethany Hightower, walking at the front, her pale green dress brushing against the moss on the bridge. "The ancestors of the House Hightower said they symbolize the symbiosis of wisdom and power—just like the maesters of the Citadel, who must understand astrology and mathematics, and also be skilled in healing and crafting." She pointed to the buildings connected to the bridge, countless glass lamps hanging under the stone domes, not lit at the moment, but one could imagine them shining brightly at night, like a string of stars fallen on the Honeywine.

Mund followed beside him, the white tower emblem on his silver armor gleaming. He stared curiously at the maesters coming and going on the bridge. "Sister, are those grey-robed people assistant maesters? The chains around their necks are so peculiar, some are iron, some are bronze." Clearly, this was the first time he, the heir of House Hightower, had formally entered the Citadel.

"The metal of the chain represents the discipline they master," Bethany explained with a smile. "Silver is medicine, iron is military science, bronze is history, and gold is astronomy—like Vaegon, who wears a gold chain around his neck; he's the most knowledgeable astrologer in the Citadel."

As they were speaking, an assistant maester in a grey robe, with silver and brass chains around his neck and carrying a scroll of parchment, approached. "Miss Bethany, Master Mund, and Your Highnesses. The Doctors are in the Planetarium discussing this year's celestial changes, and they specifically sent me to greet you."

After crossing several stone arch bridges, the core area of Citadel gradually came into view. Most of the buildings along the Honeywine were built on bridges, with short bridges connecting the halls. Dried herbs and astronomical instruments were displayed on the windowsills. Occasionally, a scholar would hurry by with books in his arms, the sound of turning pages mingling with the sound of the flowing river, like a quiet academic hymn. The Planetarium was a circular building with a glass dome. Sunlight streamed through the glass onto the star chart platform in the center, where several scholars were debating around the platform. Their voices were not loud, but they were full of concentration.

Daemon's gaze immediately fell on the man in the center of the crowd—long silver-gold hair hanging down behind a gray robe, a long face with sharp features, rounded shoulders that made him look somewhat hunched, and a faint, almost imperceptible, mockery at the corner of his mouth. This distinctive appearance, combined with the historical records in his memory, must be his "uncle," Vaegon Targaryen.

He held a brass star pointer in his hand, pointing to a point on the star chart. His voice was calm but carried an undeniable certainty. "Last year's Red Comet's trajectory was off by three degrees. According to the old records, this shouldn't be a celestial phenomenon under normal weather conditions—"

Standing beside him was a burly, bald man. Judging from Larys Strong's hesitant expression, this must be his father, Sir Leonno Strong. He wore a simple black robe, but his appearance made many people mistake him for a mere brute with brute force, ignoring his intelligence and knowledge.

Leonno nodded slightly at Vaegon's words. "The Doctor's observations are always accurate. Perhaps we should send a raven to the maesters in King's Landing's Landing to compare the records with those from previous years."

"My lords, Daemon Blackfyre of Targaryen Lineage has arrived!" Bethany called out softly, and the argument in the Hall of Stars immediately ceased.

Vaegon raised his head, his purple eyes sweeping over Daemon, first landing on his silver-gold hair and purple eyes, then on his unusual height, his brows furrowing slightly as he fell into a brief moment of contemplation. This face resembled both the gentle Aemon of his memory and the sharpness of Baelon, but his physique, far exceeding that of his peers, was closer to Aemon's appearance in his youth.

"Vaegon, Earl Leonno," Daemon stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the parchment on the map tower. "Our visit to the Citadel serves two purposes: first, on my grandfather's orders, to bring you back to King's King's Landing for the year-end tournament; second, to bring Ser Leonno with us to King 'King's Landing to assume the position of Master of Ships; and finally, I have been personally entrusted by Earl Dustin to bring his third son Beren, to the Citadel for his studies."

Beren quickly stepped forward, holding the letter of recommendation he had brought from Winterfell, his fingers nervously gripping the paper. "Student Beren Dustin voluntarily requests to study History and Astrology at the Citadel, and earnestly requests the Doctor's acceptance."

Vaegon's gaze fell on Beren, the mockery at the corner of his mouth deepening. He was about to speak—"When did the the North— "

"Doctor," Leonno suddenly stepped forward, abandoning any further conversation with his second son Larys Strong, whom he had just reunited with. His black robes swept across the edge of the star chart platform. "It's a good thing that a child from the the North is willing to Citadel. The Citadel has never cared about birth, only about the desire to learn." He gave Daemon and Larys a look, clearly afraid that the notoriously sharp-tongued Doctor might say something hurtful.

Vaegon glanced at Leonno, and despite his displeasure, still called out to the crowd, "Bernard."

A short figure strode over, barely five feet tall, wearing a gray robe that looked like a large overcoat, with four chains of different metals hanging on his chest: copper (history), iron (raven studies), silver (medicine), and gold (economics). He appeared to be his assistant or student.

"Doctor," Bernard's voice was clear and bright, his gaze quickly sweeping over Beren, "Is this to complete the enrollment procedures? I'll take this young master to register and pay the tuition while I'm at it."

Beren quickly followed Bernard, whispering "Thank you, Your Highness" as she passed Daemon, her eyes filled with gratitude.

Vaegon watched their retreating figures before turning to Daemon, his tone returning to the calm of an academic discussion. "What are the recent celestial phenomena in King's Landing?"

The last time the raven brought news, it said that His Majesty Jaehaerys was still concerned about the old news of "Long Night" because of certain letters and illusory dreams. However, we at the Citadel have compiled some scrolls from the First Men era, which might be useful to His Majesty. But never mind, perhaps you wouldn't understand even if I told you—"

"Grandfather is indeed interested in old news, but I think he would prefer the title 'Uncle's Father' to 'Your Majesty'," Daemon nodded, recalling Leaf's words on Isle of Faces, but said nothing more. "If the scrolls from the Citadel are valuable, I will have them safely brought back to King's Landing."

Vaegon's eyes widened slightly in surprise. This familiar speaking style was indeed somewhat like Aemon's, but it also revealed a hint of Baelon's tone.

Back then, because of that idiot Daenella, Baelon brought their sister Alyssa, dressed her in chainmail, and took her to the training ground as his challenger. Alyssa, still reeling from the Golden Brew incident at Arbor, laughed and mocked him when he embarrassed her on the training ground, while that idiot Daenella watched them from inside the castle.

Thinking of this Vaegon couldn't help but take Aemon's "bastard son" seriously. His nephew, this boy riding the Glutton, seemed to have brought about a transformative Storm that changed everything around him: his father and mother who were arguing when he left home last time, the "Prince of Spring Dawn" grieving over Aemon and Alyssa's departure, oh, and perhaps even his rebellious niece, the "Queen Who Never Was."

As the two talked, Gael stepped out from behind Daemon, her pale blue rose cloak sweeping across the star map draft on the ground. She looked at Vaegon, her pale purple eyes full of expectation. "Brother, how long has it been since we last saw each other? Don't you have anything to say to me?"

Only then did Vaegon notice Gael. His purple eyes remained calm, and he simply gave a faint "hmm." Gael immediately frowned, her tone tinged with anger. "I'm already riding Dreamfyre! Aren't you even a little surprised? You always said I was a coward, that I couldn't even ride a horse fast!"

Vaegon's rounded shoulders twitched slightly, a rare look of surprise on his face. He glanced at Gael's clenched fist, then turned to Daemon, his gaze probing. "It seems that Little Gael, riding the dragon, has indeed changed quite a bit."

He paused, tapping the edge of the star chart platform lightly with his fingertips, his voice carrying a deeper meaning. "But—the person who can help you overcome your fear and dare to ride on the back of the Dreamfyre isn't someone you can just meet anywhere, right?"

Daemon met Vaegon's gaze, but didn't reply, only offering a faint smile. The breeze from the Honeywine blew in through the cracks in the windows of the Planetarium, carrying the dampness of the river and the scent of ink, gently enveloping the unspoken words in the quiet of the Citadel.