Bitterbridge was a modest keep with a modest town.
Rhaegal did not spend much time at the keep, only resting for a day. Lord Caswell was more than accommodating during Rhaegal's stay despite his modest holding. Unfortunately, Rhaegal did not have a favorable impression of the lord's son. Lorent Caswell was no impressive heir, not a warrior and no great administrator. He was spoiled and vain like many others. He was still young, so perhaps there would be improvements in the future.
As historic as the keep and the surrounding area were, Rhaegal's thoughts were more focused on the encounter with the woods witch and her cryptic words.
More talks of dreams, of prophecies.
How very troublesome.
Rhaegal questioned Ser Barristan about the witch and what he knew. The Kingsguard did not know much unfortunately, as he never met her personally until today, having only heard of her from Lord Commander Gerold and the gossip that erupted after Rhaegal's grandfather announced the betrothal of his parents. In other words, Barristan knew as much about her as Rhaegal did, probably less.
Malora didn't know much either, only knowing of the woman's existence. However, the Mad Maid was happy to report that the witch was no fake. Her visions were real, and so were her abilities. Malora claimed that she sensed the usage of a glamor around the witch, which was an interesting detail to know.
Was she hiding her true appearance? Why? And if so, what did she really look like then?
And who was she working for? The old gods? Why would she take the time to relay a prophecy to the Targaryens then? They were not worshipers of the old gods.
So many questions, and Jenny, the one who might have been able to provide the answers, was already dead.
As always, more questions seemed to arrive at his feet with no answers. It was almost as if the world was screwing with him.
After ignoring the annoying advances of Lord Caswell's daughters, Rhaegal set off on the road again.
They passed by New Barrel and then Appleton. These lords had been present for the tourney, but they had returned to their lands pretty quickly. They were all welcoming and dutiful. Rhaegal did not have a chance to meet with any of them during the celebrations, but seeing them now it was clear that the Reach was pretty united with the Targaryens. Then again, perhaps he was merely seeing what he wanted. It was not as though he could truly know what was in their hearts and minds.
From Appleton, the next major stop was Highgarden itself.
The land surrounding the historic castle was like an endless emerald sea. Rolling green hills were the norm, filled with orchards and fields of wheat. It was different from the freezing land of the North and the more forestry land of the Stormlands. Rhaegal could understand why the Reach was called the breadbasket of the realm. The fertility here was almost blinding with its abundance.
"The Reach is the jewel of Westeros, your Grace!" Mace proclaimed with enthusiasm as they came closer and closer to Highgarden.
Rhaegal just nodded.
He silently observed all the villages teeming with life. The Roseroad was now swarming with activity, from merchants to other travelers. It made sense. Oldtown was not far from here, after all. Trade was bound to be plentiful.
It was another hour before they reached Highgarden. The ancient castle was located on top of a hill overlooking the river Mander. The white stone that made up the castle walls was stunning. It contrasted heavily against all the vibrant green that gave the Reach its name, in a good way. Even from the outside, Rhaegal spotted the famous briar labyrinth which made up part of the castle's defense as well as served as entertainment for its guests.
Truly, it was a dichotomy that described both the Reach and Mace well.
The welcoming ceremony at the entrance was grand. Rhaegal spied singers, pipers, harpers, and other types of performers waiting for them as they crossed through the main gate. The castle garrison was also present and lined up. They were dressed in the Tyrell colors.
Mace was giddy as he clapped from his seat while his mother did her best to hide her eye roll. Janna seemed similarly entertained as her brother.
Rhaegal was somewhat amused but just continued to observe in silence.
There were more guards wearing the Tyrell colors waiting for them inside the castle courtyard. Rhaegal's presence was announced with much fervor as he stepped out of the carriage. After spending some time on the road with the Lady Tyrell, Rhaegal hazarded a guess that this was not her work but rather the work of Mace.
Judging from the proud look on the young lord's face, Rhaegal had a feeling that he was right.
It was a grand gesture, and from these frivolous displays alone Rhaegal had a pretty good understanding of the wealth that house Tyrell commanded. The flowers had no gold mines under them, but they did have food. And when it came down to it, food was more valuable than gold.
Rhaegal and the others were then led to their rooms by servants of the castle, with the proud Mace leading them.
Olenna excused herself while dragging her daughter behind her.
The inside of the castle was just as impressive as the outside. It was very richly decorated with flowers and stained-glass windows. According to Mace, the sept inside the castle was similarly furnished, with the windows displaying Garth Greenhand and the Seven. Even though he didn't walk inside, Rhaegal could see that the sept here was almost as grand as the Sept of Baelor in King's Landing.
Oldtown and subsequently the Reach were once the main seat to the Faith, so Rhaegal was not surprised by the splendor of the sept.
Aside from the overabundance of flowers, Rhaegal would come to enjoy the time he spent in Highgarden. Despite his troubled mind, seeing one of the most impressive castles in all of Westeros with his own eyes was time well spent.
Stannis and Jon were similarly entertained, although the former less so. Stannis considered the aesthetics of the castle wasteful, and considering where he'd grown up his assessment was not all that surprising. It could be said that the practicality of Storm's End was the opposite of the abundance that was Highgarden.
It was the godswood that ended up becoming the most interesting place for Rhaegal during his stay.
The Three Singers were there, and the three weirwood trees were as grotesque as the ones in the North and Storm's End. The leaves were coated red, and the faces on the trunks were still screaming into the void, as if in constant agony.
As he stood before the weirwood trees, Rhaegal half-expected for the three-eyed crow to come for him again, but nothing happened. There were no voices and no visions. Just the stillness of the trees and silence.
Rhaegal was not sure if he was disappointed or relieved.
Mace hosted several lavish feasts for Rhaegal during his stay at Highgarden. No lords came, but the costs must have been the same with all the food and drink that Mace had prepared for him. Rhaegal was surprised that Mace's mother never stepped in to question her son's decisions. Either she did not care or she was just willing to let Mace do as he pleased because Rhaegal was here and the lord already shared a positive relationship with him.
The return of the dragons was making the supposedly sharp tongued woman more docile it seemed. It was interesting to see the contrast in behavior compared to the rumors that Rhaegal had heard about her.
Whatever Olenna's true thoughts, Rhaegal did not pay her too much mind during his stay. She did not go out of her way to interact with him, so he saw little reason to do the same.
Watching Mace make small talk with Alerie Hightower was amusing to Rhaegal. It was clear that the young Lord of Highgarden was enamored with his intended. Alerie for her part returned his affections with due diligence. Malora had said that Alerie had been eager to wed Rhaegar, but unfortunately the history between their families made that impossible. Aerys would never tolerate it, and Rhaegal saw little reason to push for it.
'At least she will not be mistreated.'
Mace had his faults, as anyone did, but he did not appear to be a bad man who would harm his lady wife. Hopefully some genuine affection could form between the two of them. Many times lords and ladies were not afforded such a luxury.
When Rhaegal finally departed from Highgarden, he knew that he would be returning in the coming months for the grand wedding.
For once, Mace was more preoccupied with wishing his intended farewell rather than focus solely on him, which Rhaegal did not mind.
He almost laughed when he noticed the exasperation coming from Malora as she watched Mace interact with her sister.
'Looks like she cares for her sister.'
In her own way.
Olenna and her daughter also bid them farewell, but Olenna's was more formal than heartfelt.
The stay had been comfortable, as had been the sights. So Rhaegal cared not for the older woman's mood.
From Highgarden, Rhaegal continued down south past the river Mander. Rhaegal encountered the lesser known house of Oldflowers with their distinct sigil during this time. It was a more flamboyant version of the more known and historic house Gardener. House Oldflowers claimed to be the closest living branch to the extinct house, having been formed from a bastard line of the Gardeners a long time ago.
However true their claim, Rhaegal did not care much. House Gardener was nothing more than a distant memory now.
When Rhaegal arrived at their modest keep, they celebrated him, with the lord not being subtle with his attempts to sell one of his daughters to him for more privileges.
'Now I see how Aegon IV was able to get around.'
His ancestor had no dragons and no magical abilities, and yet the crown on his head had been enough for the lords to whore out their daughters to the unworthy monarch.
Power corrupted. It was a simple truth.
Rhaegal maintained a careful distance, but his displeasure was growing. He had little patience for such games.
Thankfully Lord Beesbury had more tact, and his stay at his keep, the Honeyholt, was more comfortable. The keep was situated on the eastern bank of the Honeywine river, another calm and beautiful body of water further south.
Honeyholt was no modest keep. Thanks to their monopoly on bees and trade with its related products, such as beeswax and mead, house Beesbury commanded respectable wealth in the Reach. Rhaegal would go so far as to say that they were among the top four wealthiest houses in the Reach, only outdone by the Tyrells and Hightowers and possibly house Redwyne.
The furnishings inside the keep spoke for themselves. They were full of Lysene and Myrish decorations which many houses would be hard pressed to afford.
Rhaegal spent his time enjoying the mead alongside Jon and Stannis. The young Baratheon took a strong liking to the mead despite his usual preference for lemon water.
"It's not bad," Stannis said softly, trying to downplay his newfound love for the beverage.
Jon just snorted but did not comment while Rhaegal was silently entertained by Stannis' attitude. Compared to Robert, Stannis was far more serious. If not for their similar Baratheon looks, Rhaegal would question whether the two were related at all.
Rhaegal expressed his compliments to house Beesbury while placing a personal order for more mead to be delivered to King's Landing. Hopefully by the time he returned from Oldtown, his order would have arrived.
Rhaegal probably spent more time in Honeyholt than he should have, but he enjoyed himself more than he'd expected. It helped that Jon and Stannis had a similar experience.
Lord Leyton did not speak up against the delay as Lord Beesbury was an excellent host. No doubt the man felt elated that both the crown prince and the Lord Hightower were guests at his keep. Stannis' presence was also another bragging point. It was not every day that a Baratheon came this far south, after all.
However, duty called, and eventually Rhaegal had to set off from the comfortable keep.
They followed the river Honeywine further south, and eventually they came across a very awe inducing sight.
"I think I see it," Jon said, squinting as he rode next to Rhaegal.
After leaving Highgarden, Rhaegal had chosen to ride on horseback rather than stay cooped up inside a carriage. It just felt better, especially with the clean air of the Reach.
Stannis, who was also riding alongside them, nodded. "Yes. Where the river and the sea meet."
Rhaegal noticed the tall structure gleaming in the sun first rather than any body of water. They had still not arrived at Oldtown, and yet the Hightower was still visible to the naked eye.
'No wonder it's the tallest structure in all of Westeros.'
Taller than even the Wall.
The sight of it sober Rhaegal's relaxed mind, as the Hightower was the symbol of the coming battle with the people who held his hatred.
The maesters.
---
The Hightower was a massive structure of pale stone. It was a massive stepped tower with a beacon on top, built on Battle Isle. It was said that when Queen Alysanne visited Oldtown she landed her dragon Silverwing atop the tower to light the beacon herself.
Talk about a memorable entrance.
Built around the Hightower was Oldtown itself. Much like the Hightower, Oldtown was a city built of stone, with all of its streets cobbled. Even from a distance, Rhaegal could spot its many active markets as people went about their daily lives. The city was not just one single piece of land, however. There were many small isles, similar to Battle Isle, where singular structures stood, all interconnected by stone and wooden bridges.
Rhaegal's arrival had not gone unnoticed. As he and the others arrived at the main entrance of the city, they were greeted by a cheering crowd. City guards wearing the Hightower colors were stationed all around, holding back the crowd from trying to run up to them. Many were throwing flowers as performers welcomed their presence as if it were a sacred thing.
"No doubt by Lord Hightower's hand.'
Leyton had probably sent word ahead about Rhaegal's upcoming visit.
"Isn't this quite something?" Stannis observed with a calculating gaze. "Lord Hightower has set up quite a welcome for us."
Prince Lewyn chuckled as he rode with them. "The Hightowers have never been shy about showing off their wealth."
And they had much of it to go around.
Rhaegal greeted the cheering crowds with a wave, which was eagerly accepted. Of course, he was happy to see that his presence wasn't seen as something negative by the smallfolk, but the performance was a bit excessive.
'I'm not going to burn you, Lord Leyton.'
This welcome was not needed.
Rhaegal kept his thoughts to himself. While he would have preferred to ride straight to the Citadel, once again he had to show proper respect to his hosts and visit the Hightower first.
At least it was not a total loss. Much like Highgarden, the Hightower was filled with history, only this site was of particular interest to Rhaegal as a Valyrian.
The foundation on which the Hightower rested upon was said to be of black stone. The very same fused black stone that made up Dragonstone….or close to it. And yet, it was built long before Valyria came into power.
Or so the stories went. There were no clear dates or information about the founding of Oldtown or the foundation that made up the Hightower, but standing before it now Rhaegal could just feel its age. The stone was different from the fused black stone that the Alchemists' Guild had been able to create. This black stone was fused with actual dragon fire. Rhaegal could just tell with every fiber of his being.
'But where did that dragon fire come from?'
Rhaegal did not have an answer.
Leyton Hightower led them to the Hightower. On the way, Rhaegal noticed just how clean and well-dressed the smallfolk were here when compared to the smallfolk of King's Landing. It had been true for White Harbor, and it was probably also true for Lannisport.
Only King's Landing was filthy.
'One day, that will change.'
At the entrance to the Hightower stood the remaining members of Leyton's family, including his wife. She was Rhea Hightower, formerly Florent. She was Leyton's fourth wife. She was holding a baby in her arms while her stomach was noticeably round. Pregnant no doubt. Next to her stood three young girls, all of whom shared Leyton's light brown hair at first glance. Although as he took a second look Rhaegal swore that their hair could maybe pass off as a pale blonde color instead. The three girls also had blue eyes, a trait which Rhaegal did not expect. He was certain that these three daughters were not of Leyton's first marriage with his Lysene wife. So why did they seem to share some Valyrian features like Malora and their older siblings?
"Welcome to the Hightower, my prince," Leyton said as he stepped out from his carriage after it had come to a stop. "We are honored by your visit."
"As are we, Prince Rhaegal," Rhea said, bowing to the best of her abilities. Her long dark brown hair was braided neatly into a ponytail which fell down her shoulder. She wore a beautiful dress in the Hightower colors.
The three young ladies copied their step-mother's movement to the best of their abilities, but their young age showed with how clumsy they were.
Rhaegal did not mind this as he dismounted from his horse with the others doing the same. He also spotted Qyburn emerging from his own carriage, his eyes wary as he glanced in the direction of the Citadel.
"It feels good to be home!" Malora celebrated as she jumped from the carriage after her father. Her two brothers and sister followed after her, more dignified in their movements.
"Malora." Rhea's tone was not welcoming but neither was it hostile. It sounded more resigned. She then glanced at Baelor, Garth, and Alerie. "I'm glad to see you are all doing well."
Malora just waved at her while Leyton gestured to the entrance of the Hightower.
"Please, Prince Rhaegal. Follow me. I'm sure a good night's sleep will do us all good. After we fill our bellies of course."
But of course.
----
The black stone foundation of the Hightower contained halls and chambers similar to the ones in Dragonstone, only that they lacked the dragon motifs. Underneath the foundation built into the isle itself were also several narrow and twisting tunnels. The description of these tunnels reminded Rhaegal of the ones on Dragonstone and the ones underneath the Dragonpit in King's Landing.
More clues to the mystery.
Rhaegal did not stay in the lower levels of the Hightower. No. Lord Leyton invited him to the top of the tower where the apartments were housed. Rhaegal rested in his own private chamber after another feast was held in his honor by the Hightowers. Some cousins to Lord Runceford Redwyne who happened to be at Oldtown at the time joined the feast, no doubt eager to meet the crown prince for themselves.
The Most Devout of the Starry Sept made the trip to the Hightower in order to greet Rhaegal personally, an honor which was supposedly very rare as the old man rarely left the Starry Sept due to his advanced age.
Rhaegal thanked one of the most prestigious members of the Faith for his presence, acknowledging the gesture for what it was.
"Before you leave, Prince Rhaegal, perhaps you would be open to visiting the Starry Sept and accept the blessing of the Seven. For your future and the future of your house."
It was a most surprising offer, but once more Rhaegal acknowledged the gesture for what it was.
"I'll be sure to make time before I depart, Most Devout Mattheus."
The bald man bowed his head to the best of his abilities. "I will pray for your continued health."
Those were his parting words.
It was an exchange that would serve Rhaegal well in the future he supposed.
'Faith has a way of making men unpredictable.'
During the feast, Rhaegal was able to learn that Leyton's younger daughters were named Denyse Hightower, Leyla Hightower, and finally Alysanne Hightower.
Baelor and Alysanne. Clearly Lord Leyton had a fascination with Targaryens of the past.
Out of the three girls, Alysanne appeared the most Valyrian in looks, with her hair seemingly a pale-blonde silver under certain angles. It was disturbing to some extent for Rhaegal when he noticed this.
They were born to Lord Hightower's second wife who had died in childbirth. His third had also died in childbirth without siring him any living children. Now it was Rhea Florent who was the current Lady of the Hightower. She had given birth to the youngest of Leyton's children. Another daughter, whom they named Lynesse Hightower. Her hair was golden, and her eyes were a beautiful shade of blue.
'How disturbing.'
Rhaegal did not know why he was uncomfortable by all of this. He had passed off Malora's more Valyrian looks due to her mother's heritage. Same with Baelor and Alerie. Garth was the one who looked after their father the most. But the rest of them? There was no clear answer for their appearance. Combined with the fused black stone that stood beneath him, Rhaegal was struggling to wrap his head around the implications to all of this.
Neither Stannis nor Jon seemed to notice his troubled expression, which Rhaegal was thankful for. Prince Lewyn and Ser Barristan carried on as usual during the fast as well. Only Qyburn seemed to be studying his surroundings with great detail, but that was no different from usual.
Also during the feast, Rhaegal noticed Lord Leyton speaking to Stannis about something, which had the young Baratheon looking quite flustered. That was a first.
The ones Rhaegal spoke the most to during the feast were Baelor and the younger Garth. Garth seemed to have a fascination for the art of the sword, and so it was no surprise that he was excited to get a closer look at Brightflame. He also congratulated Rhaegal for his performance during the melee as well as his ascension to knighthood.
"One day I'll be just as good!" the young boy declared. "Maybe I'll even join the Kingsguard and serve you, Prince Rhaegal!"
Rhaegal smiled. "Perhaps."
Baelor just shook his head, amused.
Jon scoffed as he cut in. "As if you'd ever be ready for such an honor."
"What!?" Garth looked offended.
"Prince Rhaegal will be known as the greatest of kings. Such a king will require the best Kingsguard in history. Do you really think that you can measure up to that?"
Rhaegal wanted to sigh. Since when had he inspired such confidence into Jon? Stannis and the others he could understand, but he barely knew the young Connington.
Perhaps it was just his natural aura?
'Right.'
"I'll train!" Garth was not deterred. It was the opposite. He looked more determined. "I might not be able to wield our Valyrian steel sword, but I'll still be good enough without it!"
"Who knows, brother," Baelor said gently. "I might not be half the warrior you are when you grow. Perhaps you might be able to wield Vigilance in my stead."
Garth looked shocked before his determination shot up again. "I won't let you down, brother."
Rhaegal chuckled. "I don't think that's something that you should say on a whim, you know."
The young boy might feel betrayed when it did not happen.
"Who says that it was?" Baelor shot back. "I know my brother. When it comes to fighting, he has potential."
Was that so?
Rhaegal relaxed into his seat as he returned to his cup. "I'll take your word for it."
More words were said, all of them pleasant. It was a comfortable evening inside the Hightower, all things considered. Rhaegal felt more at ease inside the tower than he'd guessed, and this was despite the many thoughts plaguing his mind.
He also did not miss the fact that no maesters came to greet him.
After the feast concluded, Rhaegal was led to Leyton's private solar by the lord himself.
"You've made quite the favorable impression on my children," Leyton said as he and Rhaegal made themselves comfortable.
The private solar was well furnished. Rhaegal spotted several expensive looking paintings adorning the walls. From Essos no doubt.
"You have quite the family," Rhaegal replied, keeping his words diplomatic.
"Yes. I am quite proud of them all," Leyton admitted with a smile before it vanished. "Of course, Malora is something else. Her gifts have caused her to become isolated from a very young age. While I am not wholly pleased with her departure, I know that she will be happier with you."
Rhaegal frowned. He did not like the way the man phrased that.
Leyton began to pour more wine for himself while also preparing a cup for Rhaegal. "Forgive me. Malora is not the reason for asking you here."
Rhaegal rejected the wine. He had drunk enough for one evening.
"I already know what worries you, Lord Hightower. And believe me, I do not plan on burning the Citadel down tomorrow."
"Are you sure? They say a dragon's wrath is not to be underestimated, and while you've kept your composure well I know that your anger has been stewing."
Rhaegal almost clicked his teeth together in annoyance. He needed to work better on hiding his emotions from others.
"I can express my anger in other ways that do not include wanton destruction, Lord Hightower."
Rhaegal could cripple the Citadel in so many different ways in the future. Merely turning his flames on them would make them martyrs, and Rhaegal was not going to give his enemies more cause against him. Maegor was a reminder that never ending violence did not solve all problems. It had its place, and Rhaegal would use it when necessary. His mind had been filled with thoughts of revenge ever since his initial conversation with Malora, but he could temper these thoughts with patience. It was unfortunate that not all maesters were corrupt. They were going to become unnecessary casualties in his private war against the bad elements of their organization.
"I see." Leyton studied Rhaegal's face for a few moments before taking a sip from his wine. "Malora has assured me that there is more to you than just your flames, and I'm starting to see that. This may come off as unnecessary, but I will ask nonetheless. Please do not burn my city."
Rhaegal almost laughed. Burn Oldtown? That was the last of his desires.
After all, just like the rest of Westeros, Oldtown belonged to him. And he would not hurt his possessions without cause.
---
The night came and went fast.
Rhaegal bathed and ate his breakfast early. Prince Lewyn and Ser Barristan were with him as Rhaegal rode out of the Hightower with purpose.
Jon and Stannis were slower to awake, so Rhaegal let them have their sleep.
Qyburn's face was sour as he joined Rhaegal on horseback.
"Is this not a bit too early?" he said, trying to sound nonchalant. His face gave away his true thoughts of course. He did not want to return to the Citadel.
"The glass candles await me," Rhaegal responded.
Malora had not shown him hers the day before with everything else that had happened, but Rhaegal was prepared in case she tried walking back on their deal.
"Are you sure that they will just let you walk out of there with them in hand?" Qyburn questioned. "I do not think the Citadel is your biggest fan at the moment, my prince."
"They will have no choice."
Rhaegal was not going to mince words with them. In the back of his mind, he knew that he was perhaps being too hasty with this, but he did not let the thought persist as he ordered his personal guards to escort him from the Hightower to the Citadel.
Neither Leyton nor Malora would be joining him for this adventure, but Leyton was vigilant enough to provide him with extra security on his way to the Citadel.
As they made their way through the city itself, Rhaegal was once again met with the adoring crowds. It was still odd for him to see so many of the smallfolk cheering for him in what was essentially the heart of the Faith, not taking the Great Sept into account.
Rhaegal spotted the Starry Sept on his way to the Citadel. Just like the Great Sept, it was shaped into a dome with black marble walls and arched windows. It was an impressive structure which showcased the power of the Faith to the world.
'How extravagant.'
Rhaegal did not give the building a second glance.
Along the way, more of the city guard came to help escort them, which thankfully was not a needed precaution. The people were energetic and cheerful as they waved at him, but they did not try to push their way to him. It was rather peaceful really.
Rhaegal did not know how long they rode for, but the Citadel soon came into focus. Rather than one building, the Citadel was a complex of buildings. The many towers and other buildings were connected together by a series of arching bridges. Some of the structures were separated altogether on different small isles scattered around.
What stood out the most was the impressive pair of tall green sphinxes which flanked the main gates.
As with everything else in Oldtown, every structure radiated power and wealth.
Rhaegal dismounted from his horse before reaching the main gates, as did the others. The horses were taken away by the guards while they continued on foot.
There was a large group of maesters gathered at the gates. Some of them wore masks of different materials, ranging from silver to Valyrian steel. These masks marked these men as the Archmaesters, the highest position within the Citadel apart from the Conclave.
One of the Archmaesters stepped forward as Rhaegal approached.
"Prince Rhaegal. It is a pleasure to have you before us," the aged man said, his head bowed in respect. Like many of his fellow Archmaesters, his hair was thinning, his face full of wrinkles. His mask was of bronze. "My name is Archmaester Vaellyn."
Many more thoughts raced through Rhaegal's mind at this moment, but he kept his face composed.
"Archmaester. I thank you for your courtesy. It has been far too long since a Targaryen prince has walked these halls. I wanted to see the center of learning of Westeros with my own eyes."
"We are here to serve, my prince."
"Your words are appreciated, and I'm gladdened to hear them. For one of my other purposes in coming here are the glass candles that you keep with you."
For his bluntness, the Archmaester's back straightened as his fellow maesters fell into hushed murmurs behind him.
"The glass candles?" Vaellyn sounded confused. "But my prince, those have been with the Citadel for more than a thousand years. To take them now-"
"They are relics of Old Valyria, and thus belong to house Targaryen." Rhaegal stepped around the Archmaester to get a better look at the other maesters behind him. There were many of them, but one of them stood out to Rhaegal. He was short and squat with enormous hands. His mask was of Valyrian steel, as was the ring on his finger. For some reason, the unknown Archmaester had been staring at him more intently than the rest.
"You have no use for them, do you?" Rhaegal added as he looked back at Vaellyn. "You have no magic, and thus they are worthless to you."
"They are priceless artifacts-"
"I must insist on their return," Rhaegal cut him off, not having the patience to hear the man's excuses. "You did say that you were here to serve, correct? Right now, this is the best way of doing that. The crown would never forget of your continued….loyalty to the realm. For these glass candles will benefit the realm greatly."
Vaellyn's mouth was shut tight, and it was clear that he was not happy.
"Heh, I say let the prince try them." The Archmaester wearing the Valyrian steel mask stepped forward, joining their conversation. "He will see that he will be unable to use them, just like everyone else."
Oh?
'Is he trying to find a compromise?' Rhaegal wondered, surprised that one of the Archmaesters would give such a suggestion.
"Right. But of course." Archmaester Vaellyn let out a sigh which seemed to steady him. "My prince, I am not sure what your intentions are with the glass candles, but they remain elusive to us all. Perhaps if you can uncover its secrets, you would be willing to share the knowledge with the Citadel."
Rhaegal inclined his head. "Perhaps."
He had no intention of ever doing such a thing.
"Then we shall lead you to them." One of the other Archmaesters stepped in here. His mask and ring were of black iron.
"I appreciate your understanding. I will make sure to compensate the Citadel for my selfishness one day."
The words tasted like ash in Rhaegal's mouth, but he swallowed his anger once more.
"But of course. We have heard of King Aerys' refusal to allow us to study the dragons," Vaellyn said. "These are changing times, Prince Rhaegal. Full of new discoveries. The Citadel will be more than happy to aid you in your endeavors." His eyes briefly went to where Qyburn stood, who had made sure to remain as inconspicuous as possible.
Rhaegal did not respond.
He allowed the Archmaesters to lead him and his small group inside the Citadel. They were met by many curious novices and acolytes who were staring at Rhaegal in wonder. These inexperienced and hopeful students were not yet corrupted by the inner machinations of the Citadel, but Rhaegal did not trust them any.
The Archmaesters provided Rhaegal with a brief tour of the Citadel along the way. Despite the anger that he was suppressing within him, Rhaegal was still able to admire the Citadel for what it was. The building was full of history, its halls filled with accumulated knowledge of the ages. Simply burning it down would be a waste.
During the brief tour, some of the Archmaesters questioned Rhaegal about his work with the Alchemists' Guild. Their words were filled with warnings about the dangers of such a partnership, stating that the pyromancers were nothing more than liars who were scheming for more power.
Rhaegal ignored these words too.
The four glass candles were being kept inside sealed vaults within the Citadel. The Archmaesters explained how they were used for a test for their aspiring acolytes, also explaining the significance of the test to him.
It sickened Rhaegal to hear of this from their mouths, but once again he swallowed his anger.
Under the instruction of Archmaester Vaellyn, the four glass candles were brought together for the first time to one of the sealed vaults.
Three of the glass candles were black while the fourth was a more delicate green. They were all made of obsidian. It was just that the color of the obsidian was different. Most obsidian was black, but it could also come in green, red, and purple. The other colors were just more rare.
So was the difference in color merely artificial?
The question rang inside Rhaegal's mind as Archmaester Vaellyn gestured to the four glass candles. They were tall, twisted, and sword-shaped.
"These are the glass candles in our possession, Prince Rhaegal. As you can see, they remain dark."
True enough, none of the glass candles were burning.
Rhaegal walked closer to them. As Malora had said, he had no real training when it came to magic. What he did know was instinctual. Melisandre had tried to teach him some of her lesser spells before, but those were difficult for him to grasp. His fire, though, was easier for him to understand. As were the dragons and Valyrian steel.
What of the glass candles?
Rhaegal could feel multiple sets of eyes on him as he stepped closer to the glass candles.
It was faint at first, but soon Rhaegal began to feel a pull from each of the glass candles. The lone green candle felt different compared to the three black ones. He did not know how to precisely describe that difference. It was almost as if it was more delicate or more….fragile. As if the magic stored within was of a different kind. The three black candles on the other hand felt stronger and more direct, as if they were reaching out to Rhaegal with such force that he almost collapsed.
Regardless of the difference, right in front of the crowd of curious maesters, the four glass candles began to burn once more. Their fire was bright, and it produced an unnatural light which seemed to distort the color around them. The light also transformed the shadows of the vault into a pitch-black color that consumed all other darkness near it.
"Impossible."
"They are burning."
"How is this…."
"Then magic really is coming back-"
"Quiet, you fool!"
There were many whispers from the maesters, but Rhaegal ignored them all. For the glass candles were calling to him. It was instinctual, and he would have never done this had his mind been more clear.
Rhaegal was certain that he could also hear a set of voices ringing inside his head. He did not know what they were saying, for he could not fully make out their voices. He just knew that there were many of them.
"My prince!"
It must have been Barristan's voice that cried out then, but Rhaegal was already reaching for one of the black candles.
When his fingers touched it, Rhaegal's whole world collapsed around him once more.
---
It was the third time that the darkness embraced Rhaegal. If Melisandre were here, then she would have probably cried out in terror. For the darkness was the enemy, and yet it kept welcoming Rhaegal over and over.
How fascinating.
"The dragon child has come."
"He is but a child."
"The dragons awaken, so must he."
"He knows some of what is to come, so he cannot remain a fledgling forever."
"Yet, he bears the same flaws as his forebears. His arrogance knows no bounds."
"Were we any different?"
The voices from earlier. They were around him, only this time they were much clearer. Rhaegal could not see much of anything in the darkness, and yet right before his eyes figures started to materialize around him. They were distinct, almost ghostly in appearance. They were well-dressed, as if they were kings. There were many of them, all of whom were holding swords of pale fire. Rhaegal could make out their hair. It was long. It was silver, gold, and white. They all had different colored eyes. They were opal. They were amethyst. They were tourmaline. And they were jade.
And they were all staring at him.