POV: Brynden Rivers—The hand of the king.
"You low life! How-How can you look at me with those eyes, like I'm some cripple? I am the dragon!" Aerion hit the serving girl, then stormed away.
I'd seen that wound—on Aerion's eye—made. Through a raven, I'd watched it happen at Ashford.
Aerion had killed that puppet girl and four others. A raven dove from the sky and tore out Aerion's eye.
I turned and climbed the stairs to my tower.
Daemon II Blackfyre had been at Ashford, too, calling himself Ser John. I'd seen him approach Duncan, offering revenge against Aerion.
Duncan had refused.
When I reached my chamber, I closed the door and sat at my table.
I let my breathing slow and my mind drift.
The world fell away.
Wings took its place.
I was flying over Ashford again.
The tourney grounds were quiet in the darkness. As I followed Prince Daeron's servant, I saw three people at supper.
Duncan the Tall sat across from the young prince Aegon. Prince Daeron sat with them, already deep in his cups.
Daeron's laughter broke and he started crying into his cup. "I had the dream again last night. Dragons dying. Rivers of blood. I wish I could stop seeing them."
Duncan put a heavy hand on the prince's shoulder but said nothing.
I watched from the branch outside, feeling the cool night air ruffle my feathers.
Daeron's dreams weren't from wine. They were dragon dreams—the kind that showed truth.
Then Duncan's head turned.
His eyes met mine through the window.
For a moment it felt like he could see me—not just the bird, but the mind behind it, but maybe I was overthinking.
"Going out for a piss," Duncan muttered, standing up.
I continue to hear what Prince Daeron was sobbing, about the dragon dreams but suddenly—
Something coiled around me.
A snake, Dark as night. It wrapped around the raven's body, crushing its wings!?
I felt sharp pain throughout my whole body as the snake made its grip tighter.
I pulled free from the connection just before Raven died.
Back in my tower, I gasped for air, while sweat ran down my temple. Raven was dead—I don't sense it anymore.
I sat there breathing slowly, thinking.
'He is a Warg, that's why that raven attacked Aerion!'
Later that night, I walked to the king's chamber.
The gold cloaks at the door bowed as I passed.
My half-brother, King Daeron II, sat by the window; he was still awake.
"You're late, brother." He didn't turn when I entered.
"Ashford, Your Grace. There's been movement."
The king gestured for me to continue.
I paused. "Daemon II Blackfyre was at Ashford. Called himself Ser John. He approached the hedge knight we talked about earlier. Deamon offered him vengeance."
The king's hand tightened on his goblet. "Did he accept?"
I shook my head. "No. Refused twice."
Daeron leaned back. "Then there's still honor in the realm."
"Duncan's loyalty isn't to crowns or causes—just to his own code. That makes him dangerous."
The king studied me. "You think we should bring him closer."
"I do. He's already bound to your blood. Egg adores him. Daeron calls him a friend. Even Baelor has noticed."
"And you?"
I smiled slightly. "I suspect he's not ordinary. I saw him through a raven's eyes… and he looked back at me."
"He sensed you?"
"More than that, he killed the raven I was using by warging into a snake."
Finally, Daeron said, "If he's what you say, he could serve the realm well… or,"
I nodded. "All the more reason to keep him close."
Daeron took a slow sip of wine. "And what of Aerion?"
The room seemed to cool.
My voice hardened. "Aerion is poison. He killed that puppet girl out of vanity and cruelty. Duncan restrained himself, but he won't forget. Keep them together and one will kill the other. And we know who will die."
The king sighed. "I'd hoped court might temper him."
He looked toward the window. "Summerhall then. Send Aerion there—away from King's Landing.
And if Aerion doesn't cool down, then the fire will burn itself out—one way or another."
….
POV: Duncan
Aerion didn't return to King's Landing alone, with ravens, rats, and a squirrel.
They were animals that I sent with him so I could keep an eye on him and others in King's Landing.
"You're late, brother." King Daeron said, I was warging inside a small bird that I change to rat when Blood Raven entered the king's chamber.
"Ashford, Your Grace. There's been movement." Blood Raven said.
The king gestured for him to continue.
"Daemon II Blackfyre was at Ashford. Called himself Ser John. He approached the hedge knight we talked about earlier. Daemon offered him vengeance."
"Did he accept?"
I would never involve myself with someone like Daemon II That man is a fool who thinks no one knows about his disguise, and he's too fucking incompetent.
After all, he will lead the most shameful rebellion with the help of Butterwell.
Then he will get himself captured and his companions killed, before the rebellion even starts.
"No. Refused twice." Blood Raven said.
The King's face softened. "Then there's still honor in the realm."
Bloodraven leaned closer to the fire. "Duncan's loyalty isn't to crowns or causes—just to his own code. That makes him dangerous."
The king studied him. "You think we should bring him closer."
"I do. He's already bound to your blood. Egg adores him. Daeron calls him a friend. Even Baelor has noticed."
"And you?"
"I suspect he's not ordinary. I saw him through a raven's eyes… and he looked back at me."
I have noticed a few animals behaving strangely for the past few days.
When I saw that raven on a tree branch, turning its head towards Daeron when he talked about dragon dreams, it confirmed that someone was warging inside it.
"He sensed you?"
"More than that, he killed the raven I was using by warging into a snake."
"If he's what you say, he could serve the realm well… or,"
"All the more reason to keep him close." Blood Raven said.
King Daeron took a slow sip of wine. "And what of Aerion?"
"Aerion is poison. He killed that puppet girl out of vanity and cruelty. Duncan restrained himself, but he won't forget. Keep them together and one will kill the other. And we know who will die."
My claws dug into the stone.
As much as I love to make Aerion drink a wildfire, I first like to know all the pieces on board, so I don't repeat what happened with her.
"I'd hoped court might temper him." The king let out a tired sigh.
His eyes met Blood Raven's. "Summerhall then. Send Aerion there—away from King's Landing.
And if Aerion doesn't cool down, then the fire will burn itself out—one way or another."
Maybe I can help Aerion so he doesn't feel bad when he leaves King's Landing?
…
POV: Aerion Brightflame
I was dreaming of fire.
Beautiful and bright fire. The kind that danced and sang and consumed everything impure. In my dream, I was whole again—both eyes blazing with the light of Old Valyria.
Dragons bowed before me. The smallfolk knelt and wept at my radiance.
Then something cold touched my face.
My good eye snapped open.
A raven sat on my pillow. Black as sin. Staring at me with eyes that gleamed like polished Dragonglass.
For a heartbeat, I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
The bird tilted its head, studying me with an intelligence that no bird should possess.
Then it dragged one claw slowly across my cheek.
"AHHHHHHHHH!"
I screamed.
The sound tore from my throat—raw and high and filled with terror. I threw myself backward, tangled in silk sheets, and crashed onto the floor.
The raven hopped to the edge of the bed.
Caw~
"GET AWAY! GET AWAY FROM ME!"
I kicked free of the blankets and scrambled to my feet. My hands shook. My heart is racing.
The raven just sat there. Watching.
I bolted for the door.
Naked. I didn't care. I had to get away from that thing.
I yanked the door open and ran into the hallway, still screaming.
"RAVEN! THERE'S A RAVEN! HELP! SOMEONE—"
I collided with something solid.
Strong hands caught my shoulders, steadying me. I looked up, still gasping, tears blurring my vision.
"You idiot, get out of my—"
The words died in my throat.
My father stood before me, his jaw tight with barely controlled anger.
"Father," I choked out. "There's a—in my room—a raven—"
"Compose yourself," he said coldly. His grip on my shoulders tightened. "You're making a spectacle."
"But it was there! On my face! It tried to—"
"Enough."
Guards appeared in the hallway, swords half-drawn. A serving woman hurried forward with a robe, eyes carefully averted from my nakedness.
I snatched it from her and wrapped it around myself with shaking hands.
"The raven," I said desperately, looking at the guards. "It's in my chambers. Kill it. Now."
Two guards exchanged glances but moved toward my door.
My father released me, his expression unreadable. "Wait here."
"But Father—"
"Be. Silent."
He followed the guards into my room.
I stood in the hallway, clutching the robe tight, feeling tears stream down my face. The bandage over my ruined eye felt hot and tight. My remaining eye darted to every shadow, every corner, expecting black wings to emerge.
After what felt like an eternity, the guards emerged.
Empty-handed.
"Well?" I demanded. "Where is it?"
The first guard cleared his throat. "Your Grace… there's no raven in your chambers."
"WHAT?"
"We checked everywhere, Your Grace. The window, the rafters, under the bed. Nothing."
"That's impossible! It was right there! On my bed!"
My father stepped out behind them. "The window was open. If there was a bird, it flew away before the guards arrived."
"If?" I stared at him. "You think I imagined it?"
"I think," my father said slowly, dangerously, "that you've been under considerable strain. Your injury—"
"I'M NOT MAD!"
The words echoed down the hallway. Servants and guards alike froze, staring at me.
My father's eyes went cold. "Lower your voice."
"It was real," I said, voice breaking. Tears ran hot down my face. "It was there. Right there. It touched me. It—"
"Enough." My father gestured to the guards. "Escort the prince back to his chambers."
…