The library at Castle Black was one of the few places in the cold fortress that still held a trace of knowledge and warmth.
The air smelled of herbs and the hearth fire.
The towering shelves were crammed with scrolls and books recording the history of Westeros, medicine, and secrets buried by time.
The aged Maester Aemon Targaryen sat in a chair near the hearth, wrapped in a thick woolen robe.
The faint firelight danced in his cloudy, gray-white eyes, blind for many years, yet they could reflect no images.
A cautious knock came at the door.
"Come in, Clydas."
Maester Aemon's voice was gentle and calm. He had recognized his personal steward's footsteps.
Clydas, nearly sixty, came in with his back hunched, holding a message tube. His voice trembled with urgency:
"Maester, a raven just arrived from King's Landing. An urgent dispatch for the Lord Commander."
Clydas carefully placed the message tube in Aemon's hands.
The cold touch of metal made the old man pause slightly.
Hearing the steward's alarm, Maester Aemon smiled. "Clydas, go ahead..."
He was blind, and whenever a letter arrived, his personal steward Clydas read it aloud to him.
Clydas held his breath and gathered himself, then drew a breath and recited its contents in full.
"No-impossible-"
After hearing the letter's contents, a faint murmur escaped Aemon's lips, filled with incredulous horror.
Clydas had never seen the learned, unflappable Maester Aemon lose his composure like this.
He stepped back in fright. "Maester? What-what's wrong?"
Aemon did not answer.
His entire world seemed to have collapsed upon hearing the contents of the letter.
"Jon Snow's true identity is the legitimate son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. The Iron Throne orders Castle Black to take Jon into custody immediately and await the Gold Cloaks, who will