Guys, sorry, I ended up posting the chapter in Portuguese, my native language. When posting, I chose the wrong file. I've just fixed it, so those who haven't read it yet can read it without any problem.
And well, even though the mistake was mine, if you're using the mobile app, there's an automatic translation option that works relatively well.
If you're using the browser, Google Translator can translate the whole page automatically — you just need to activate it.
Sorry about that, and enjoy your reading.
Year 103 A.C.
POV: Viserys Targaryen
I leaned over the stone parapet, trying to follow the direction in which the raven had flown, but I couldn't see it. It had already disappeared against the grey sky of the capital.
My thoughts were racing at a thousand miles an hour. Everything that raven said hit on points that I tried to ignore. That warg, that voice, how much does he really know about my life and my House?
The bird's tearing words echoed in my mind: "We will meet again... VISERYS."
"I collect my debts... and I hope you will be as generous as I was"
When? What does he gain doing this? What will he want in exchange for what he said? And, above all: "After all, you are the hope of Westeros."
Was he being sincere? Dread and doubt mixed in my chest. I turned my back to Blackwater Bay and walked hurriedly off that terrace.
Ser Harrold Westerling and Ser Ryan Redwyne were posted on guard, each on one side of the door. Before I could give him a simple order, a dark thought hammered hard in my mind. The raven warned me about the people around me. If the Grand Maesters of the Citadel are not to be trusted and serve only their own interests, who would be? Should I talk about this with Daemon? And Ser Otto Hightower... Otto, who helped me, had been so loyal, is not to be trusted?
The man my grandfather chose and who has been my anchor... does he really wish to place his own blood on the Iron Throne using my tragedy?
I will give Otto one last chance. I... cannot trust the raven so easily like that, I have to test him.
"Ser Harrold," I called, trying to keep the voice of a firm king. "Find the Lord Hand. Tell him I demand a meeting with him immediately. Tell him to meet me in the library."
"As you wish, Your Grace," Ser Harrold nodded, striking his fist on his breastplate before withdrawing through the corridors.
I resumed walking, Ser Ryam following me in silence, my steps sounding slow and heavy on the cold stone. I am going to discover everything I can about this warg. If the magic of the First Men and Valyria still breathes in this world, could it be that I can also use it? Can I protect myself?
Just the spark of that hope — that of not being a puppet of destiny — seemed to give me a slight lift in spirits.
POV: Otto Hightower
The library of the Red Keep was silent and smelled of old parchment and dust. When I found King Viserys, I expected that we would discuss the pending issues of the council, perhaps the threat in the Stepstones or the succession of some minor fiefdoms.
But His Grace was different.
He did not receive me with that mild and complacent smile of his usual self. His violet eyes were fixed and unfathomable, and his posture was rigid.
"Lord Hand," he began, his voice carrying an imperative tone he rarely used with me. "I want you to send your trusted men to seek specific information throughout the city and its surroundings."
"I am at your disposal, Your Grace. What should we look for?" I asked, keeping my hands clasped and my expression neutral.
"Accounts of ancient magic. I want to know if there are rumors of people who have the fame of using witchcraft, blood mages, seers... and, above all, any account of people who master the gift of skin-changing with animals," he said, his fingers tapping impatiently on the wooden table. "And one more thing, Otto. Look for any rumor about a raven. A raven with golden eyes."
I raised an eyebrow, confused. A newly crowned king worried about wet nurses' fables and strange birds?
"A raven with golden eyes, Your Grace? I fear that sounds like the delirium of tavern drunks," I tried to soften, seeking the rational tone that always calmed him.
"I did not ask for your opinion on what it seems to be, Otto!" Viserys's response was sharp as dragonglass, catching me completely by surprise. "I asked you to find the accounts. Discreetly. Without the Grand Maester knowing. Was I clear?"
"Crystal clear, my King," I bowed my head, hiding my disturbance. "I will take care of this personally."
I left the library feeling a tightness in my chest. What are you looking for, Viserys? I would need to be very careful in the coming days.
POV: Viserys Targaryen
When Otto left, the Hightowers have a connection with the Citadel, did I act wrongly?
I continued to search through the books hurriedly after Otto's departure. His reaction... he hesitated, tried to deflect me from the subject and treat me like a frightened child. The raven's words gained even more weight. Then in that thought Daemon's voice from months ago sounded in my mind.
'That Otto is a viper, one of the worst of his kind'
I needed a raven to give me a warning... to open my eyes so that I hear my own brother... what level have I reached?
Grand Maester Runciter entered the library a short time later.
"Does Your Grace require assistance? I can ask the acolytes to find the volume you desire," he offered, with that polished voice of his as always.
"No. I am fine, Runciter," I replied dryly, without taking my eyes off the shelves. "I am just taking a look and thinking about some things. You may withdraw."
The Maester bowed and walked away calmly, showing nothing wrong in his attitude, but, after the bird's warning, even his calm seemed suspicious to me.
My hands and eyes swept book by book, searching for anything about magic, the First Men, White Walkers, and wargs. But my thoughts would not leave me in peace. If everything the raven said was true, who could I trust? Was I alone amidst vultures? Perhaps the Master of Laws, Lord Lyonel Strong, was trustworthy. He seemed honorable and direct.
Sometime later, I set aside a stack of thick books and took them to my chambers.
When I entered, the smell of sickly sweat and incense hit me. There was Aemma, lying in our bed. She was terribly weak and pale. A week ago, my sweet queen had suffered yet another miscarriage. The blood on the sheets still haunted my nights.
The cruel and precise words of the raven screamed in my mind: "...The Prince That Was Promised could very well be a Princess... you will butcher the woman you love on a birthing bed for an heir who won't live a single day."
If what the bird said is true, it is not worth it. It is not worth her sacrifice.
I approached, placed the books on the desk and sat on the edge of the bed, holding her cold hand and giving it a light kiss.
"How are you, my love?" I asked, my voice choked.
"I am getting better, Viserys..." she forced a weak smile, her tired eyes meeting mine. "I... I was thinking. I know the need the realm has for an heir... but can't you give me some time to rest?"
Guilt tore me apart inside. I felt like a monster. Was I really such a fool to close my eyes to the pain of the woman I love for the sake of a dream that could very well be wrong?
"However much time is enough," I said, kissing her forehead. "We will wait two years, my love. Or more. I want you to rest well and recover. The realm can wait."
I got a lump in my throat when I saw a tender, genuine smile, full of surprise, illuminate Aemma's pale face.
"Thank you, my king..." she whispered, with a happiness so visible that it almost made me cry.
I really am a fool, I thought. I had to be threatened by a witch bird to see the obvious.
My gloomy thoughts were interrupted by a small ball of energy in human form that came running into the room.
"Mother!... Father! Today I went vhooom, voom, and zaiiis! Syrax is the best dragon!" exclaimed Rhaenyra, her little hands gesturing frantically in the air, imitating low flights. "Father... when are we going to play at flying dragons together?"
Both Aemma and I gave a wide smile. I looked at my daughter and the pain in my chest gave way to pure love. Should I really claim another dragon as the raven suggested? Wouldn't I be betraying the memory of the Black Dread, Balerion?
Not wanting to sadden my little princess, I replied: "Perhaps in the coming days, my sweet girl."
"Yayyy!" she shouted, jumping into my lap.
While she settled in, Rhaenyra's astute little eyes darted to the stack of books on the desk behind me. She pointed her little finger.
"Fir... First... Men... did I read that right, Father?"
"Very good, daughter..." I said, enchanted by her precocity.
"My daughter is so smart... come here, my princess, so that I can hug you," Aema said in a tender voice.
Rhaenyra crossed the bed and threw herself into an affectionate hug with Aemma. Seeing that scene — my wife smiling and my daughter full of life —, an amethyst gleam lit up in my eyes. I murmured, more to myself than to anyone else:
"Maybe the raven is right... I am a fool."
Rhaenyra, with her endless energy and sharp ears, seemed instantly alert to the word.
"Raven? What is that, Father? Did he call you a fool? What is a fool?"
Aemma widened her eyes. "Viserys, do not use those words near your daughter..."
"Little Rhae, do not use that word again... are you listening to me?" I asked, trying to sound stern.
"Raven or fool?" she asked with a mischievous smile, challenging me.
"The latter..." said Aemma, giving a light flick to our daughter's forehead.
"Ouch, Mother! But what is a raven? That word is allowed, right?"
"That one is allowed..." Aemma agreed, but then narrowed her eyes at me. "But what raven is this, Viserys, that called you a fool? A man of the Night's Watch?"
Me and my big mouth.
"Sigh..."
"A raven is a big, black bird, daughter. And some very rare ones even learn to imitate words and speak," I said, trying to downplay the situation.
"Aaaaah!" Rhaenyra's eyes shone with excitement. "I think I saw a raven then! He was a huge bird! He had such pretty eyes... they were more golden than my dragon's scales!" she said, proud of her discovery.
A scowl of shock and dread formed on my forehead. I opened my mouth to ask a thousand questions, but Aemma spoke first, finding amusement in the girl's imagination.
"Ravens don't have golden eyes, daughter..."
"That one did, Mother... I swear! I am not a liar!"
"Where did you see it, daughter?" I asked, my voice coming out more tremulous than usual.
"Do you believe me, Father?" asked Rhaenyra, jumping from Aemma's lap back into mine.
"Viserys..." mumbled Aemma, noticing my tension.
"Let her speak, Aemma... it's just a child recounting what she saw," I said, desperately trying to hide the dread that was beginning to take hold of me.
"I am not a child, Father!" she crossed her little arms.
"Yes, yes, forgive me. Tell me where you saw a raven with golden eyes, then, my dragonrider."
"Hmmmm..." she tapped her little finger on her chin. "I think a few weeks ago, when I went to ride Syrax for the first time. He was looking at me a lot from the top of the wall... and later, when I was already in the air... he even flew and stayed close to me once! But I think I never saw him again after that day."
My blood ran cold. The raven was watching Rhaenyra? Was he protecting her or something? What does this warg plan with my daughter?
"I tried to catch him once," she continued, laughing, "but he kept running away from me in little hops and then flew high!"
"And why didn't you tell this to us before, daughter?" I asked.
"I forgot..." she said, getting shy and lowering her face.
I sighed, smoothing her platinum hair.
"Let's sleep, daughter," I said. The day had been grueling. I needed to rest my body and, later, devour those books.
"I'm not sleepy..."
"Yes you are, come on... Go take a bath with your maids and then I will read to you..."
"The stories of Old Valyria?!"
"Yes, yes... now let's go," I said, already standing up and picking her up in my arms to take her to her chambers.
Hours later, when I returned to the room, the capital was already plunged into night. Aemma was still awake, sitting against the pillows. She stared at me.
"Raven?"
"Perceptive as always..." I murmured, feeling exhausted.
"A raven called you a fool, Viserys?"
I analyzed the pale and worried face of the woman I loved and, finally, I gave in. I could not carry that alone.
"It wasn't quite like that, my love... and you probably won't believe me..."
"I would never doubt you, Viserys," she replied, holding my hand. "Now tell me... you've been strange."
I sighed heavily, took off the royal mantle, threw the crown on the table and lay down on the bed beside her. I began to recount everything I witnessed today, without omitting a single dark detail. I spoke of the great bird with molten gold eyes, of the human voice coming from its beak, of the brutal warnings about the Hand of the King and the heresy about Aegon's dreams.
When I finished, Aemma looked at me in a strange, almost fearful way.
"Was this... in your dreams, Viserys? Another one of your dragon dreams?"
"No, Aemma. It happened on the balcony, with my eyes open. That is why I was so disturbed when our Rhaenyra described the same raven with golden eyes. The bird was here."
I rubbed my temples. "I don't know where he came from, nor what his real intentions are. I don't know if everything he spewed at us is the absolute truth. I don't know who to trust in this court anymore, my love. You never thought I would lie to you, but I hid this today because I didn't want to burden you. You have already suffered so much."
Aemma touched my face, her eyes teary.
"Despite everything..." I continued, my voice a whisper. "I think the raven didn't tell a single lie. He touched on the open wounds of this House."
I hugged Aemma against my chest. "Even if I follow everything he said and dismiss Otto, nothing bad will happen to us directly. The only price would be not having a male heir immediately. I don't know if this can destroy the realm, but I know I don't want to destroy you. I've decided to give you whatever time is necessary to recover. And I will bear the burden."
Aemma buried her face in my neck, crying in relief.
"He calls himself a warg. A skinchanger. I am trying to find people who know this old magic," I pointed with my head to the only three books I found in the library. "I took all the tomes about the First Men and the Long Night. The raven spoke about the White Walkers... said that they have already awakened."
"Could the stories really be true..." Aemma murmured.
"I... I don't know," I answered quietly.
"Let's rest for today," I continued kissing the top of her head. "Tomorrow I'll start studying this. Too many things happened today."
I gave her a deep kiss and we lay down. But my thoughts did not stop. A king's mind never rests. I kept looking at the open window for a long time, listening to the wind of the capital, until exhaustion finally overcame me and I fell asleep.
Minutes after my eyes closed, a silent shadow descended from the roof of the Red Keep.
A raven with bright golden eyes landed softly on the windowsill. It looked at the sleeping royal couple, evaluated the scene in absolute silence for a few moments, and then spread its dark wings, diving into the starry night and flying away.
Thank you for reading, leave a comment and a review to help me improve my writing and this story as a whole, and if you liked it give me your power stones.
If you'd like to support me even more, please visit my Patreon. There you'll find updated images of how I imagine the characters and, for now, more than ten chapters in advance.
Just remove the space and put it on Google, I am sure you will find
patreon. com/ cw/ DanLyn