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Chapter 11 - Ravens, Black and White
🕑 Added 2023-04-22 17:27:33 +0000 UTCDisclaimer: I don’t own the characters or the world appearing in this story, they are creations and property of the fantastic George R. R. Martin. I’m not sure if I can claim my OCs as my own, so I’ll play it safe and dedicate them to GRRM.
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[Year - 293 AC]
Bloodraven soared over the farms and fields of the Reach as he followed his course towards Oldtown.
Warging into a raven, he could cover long distances at ridiculous speeds. He could even keep flying for weeks or even months together. Along with his other abilities, this allowed him to gather intelligence on the happenings throughout the realm and keep a watchful eye on everything.
However, his usual practices had changed drastically over the past few years, since he’d spent them mostly outside of Westeros. He could only hope that Harry was keeping a watchful eye on everything in his absence. At least, for the time being, he didn't have to worry about the threat of the White Walkers.
In his last trip, Bloodraven, or Brynden, had spent the past few months travelling extensively across the free cities – where he’d kept a close watch on Viserys and Daenerys, and then moved on to Pentos to monitor the actions of the Griffs. He’d even had to journey beyond the Wall to retrieve the white raven.
Thinking over what he’d witnessed on this trip, Brynden was conflicted with the state of his house at present. He was never a true Targaryen, his status as a bastard had made sure of that; yet he’d sided with them in the war.
Even when he was legitimised, he’d still served his brother and nephews, the true Targaryens. Afterwards, he’d become the last greenseer, which had shed away any lingering attachments he’d had left. It hadn’t been hard, his heart had hardened after the death of Shiera, leaving him with little to hold onto in the mortal world.
But even so, looking at the last Targaryens made his heart clench. Two of them reduced to begging on the streets of Lys and the other being passed around for the schemes of men.
His thoughts wandered back to when he’d been a child. It had not been the most pleasant of times. His father… hadn’t been a good king – and there was nothing he could say to defend him. Not as if he was inclined to defend him at all, to begin with. His father could neither control his gluttony nor his lust. His rule was still talked about to this day, not in praise but in caution. However, it had been a good time for the family. There had been so many of them parading around. Of course, their family had thinned considerably over the wars that came after, a lot of them due to his own efforts.
Brynden brought his thoughts back to the present as he noticed Honeyholt, just some distance away.
It was still early in the morn. The sun had not yet risen, but it would have by the time he reached Oldtown. Brynden wondered what Harry would ask of him this time.
That brought him to Harry. The boy who was changing everything. And his thoughts wandered to the day he met him.
It had been a special occasion for Brynden. He’d gone to Winterfell to take a look at Catelyn Stark. She was with child; a child he’d been waiting for a long time. Bran Stark.
He’d perched himself outside on a weirwood tree and spied on them.
He caught them in the middle of a family gathering. In the midst of their merry conversation, as they chatted away about the new babe, Harry suddenly turned to the tree and locked eyes with him. He was taken aback, for but a moment, before dismissing it for a child’s curiosity. But then Harry had gestured towards the godswood and walked into it. Brynden had considered if he should follow Harry, but then his own curiosity had won over. He had followed the boy into the godswood.
“I’ve been wanting to meet you, Lord Bloodraven,” Harry had said. He’d had a childish smirk on his face, an expression that screamed mischief.
Brynden had been shocked to his core.
Harry had been an anomaly to him. Brynden had never seen him in any of his dreams. However, dreams were very volatile and the future always changing. Any interference in the events leading up to a situation could alter the future. However, he never did figure out the circumstances behind Harry’s appearance.
After he’d gotten over the shock, they’d talked and Harry had shared his dreams of the future. Brynden had been sceptical of the clarity behind Harry's dreams, as his own visions were often cryptic and required careful consideration to understand.
Harry had then predicted the Greyjoy Rebellion to its very last detail, ridding Brynden of most of his doubt.
Following that, they began working together towards the betterment of the realm. Brynden had been a little wary of Harry’s high ambitions. He’d advised against it time and time again but Harry had his mind set on it. Although Harry had proved himself to be clever and decisive in the past few years. He had more or less redeemed himself for his ambitions and Bryden had also mellowed his reservations over time.
He quickly glanced back once to make sure that the white raven was following him. The bird was still young and barely half his size – but with Harry, it would grow well. Brynden had a suspicion that Harry knew of magics that allowed him to rear animals to be better than their counterparts. He had seen tens of direwolves in his time beyond the wall and yet he’d never come across one as big as Harry’s.
He flew into Oldtown just as the sun showed itself. He could feel the warmth on his back as he flew into the city. The Whispering Sound was gradually being coloured orange as sunlight washed over it.
The three-eyed raven flew around the city as he released his hold on his mind and let it spread. Among the spider web of men spread across Oldtown, he was searching for one mind in particular. Or rather the lack of one. One more of Harry’s many secrets. His mind was miraculously protected by some… thing. He couldn’t even put it into words. Warging into a mind was a sensitive and precarious process. Not all minds could be entered and human minds were some of the hardest. However, sensing them was not a difficult task, except for Harry.
Brynden sensed the familiar blankness as he neared the shoreline where Honeywine flowed into the sea. He changed directions to where he’d sensed his target.
Nearing the shoreline, he could see Harry sitting in the sand, unnaturally still. His feet were buried in the sand and his hands propped behind his back for support. Harry’s eyes had rolled up and he could see the white of it.
Harry was warging. He wondered which animal’s mind Harry was lost in. Maybe the direwolf?
As he neared, Harry jerked up and looked up at him. Smiling, he extended a hand for Brynden to perch on. “Brynden! You’ve made good time, it seems,” he remarked.
Looking at the white raven following behind, Harry’s eyes widened in surprise and his mouth quirked up in satisfaction.
“And you’ve brought me a gift!”
“A gift you asked for,” Brynden spoke as he took perch.
“Let’s not delve into the specifics of it,” Harry replied as he beckoned the white raven.
Drawing the bird close he stroked its head gently. Brynden could see the happiness on his face, but along with it, he could also see the calculations already running through his head. Harry was going to put the poor bird through a lot in the years to come.
“It’s to your expectations I hope?” Brynden asked, interrupting Harry’s thoughts.
“Verily!” Harry exclaimed with a wide grin, “Although I have more trust in your expertise of ravens.”
Taking a few moments to examine the bird, Harry carefully set the white raven on his lap and turned his gaze towards Brynden.
“So… shall we start with Dany’s side?” Harry asked with more than a little trepidation.
“Very well,” Brynden said in a somewhat subdued tone. “Viserys has finally sold his mother’s crown. However, he is already planning something extravagant with the money. I think it has something to do with the learning of his nickname amongst the people.”
“What nickname?” Harry asked with some amusement.
“The Beggar King,” Brynden replied.
Harry hissed as he cringed. “That must have been a heavy blow.”
Brynden nodded as much as he could manage as a raven.
“And about this extravagant plan…” Harry began, “any idea of what it could be?”
“He was asking after the Golden Company,” Brynden said.
Harry huffed in exasperation and a little amusement. “He’s trying to gain their favour – probably hoping to convince them to fight for him.”
“Exactly what I’d assumed as well,” Brynden said. The only thing keeping him from sighing was the physical limitation of a raven.
“Looks like the money’s going straight down the drain,” Harry remarked with a tinge of disappointment. “I’d have expected him to prioritise living with pride – at least a few years. His haste is to be his downfall.”
“It’s not just haste, Harry,” Brynden said, “Exile is all he must ever think back to – I doubt he even remembers his life before all this hardship. All he must want is to just end it all and live his life.”
Harry looked a little conflicted and a brief silence followed his statement.
“How’s she been throughout this ordeal?” Harry asked, breaking the silence.
"He's getting more and more violent as the days go by,” Brynden informed, “he blames her for their mother's death and she takes his words as is."
“Just like all he remembers is the hardship – he’s all she’s ever known… at least since Willem died,” Harry said. Although it came out more as a questioning whisper than a statement.
“What are you thinking, Harry?” Brynden asked, interrupting his thoughts. Harry was making it a habit of ignoring people in favour of his thoughts.
“Right, sorry,” Harry said sheepishly. “It’ll be many more years before I’m able to do anything heavyhanded outside Westeros… or outside the North really. The only thing I can do is, make use of my dreams to subtly nudge all the happenings of the realm in my favour.”
Harry fell into thought yet again. Bynden shook his head in exasperation. “Ahem,” he cleared his throat to catch Harry’s attention.
“Yes– Yes,” Harry asked, a little annoyed at the constant interruptions. “What about our friend – the Griff?”
“Both Griffs are at Pentos,” Brynden said, “they have a boat – the ‘Shy Maid’ – but they are not let out of Illyrio’s sight for but a moment.”
“Connigton shouldn’t be too happy about that,” Harry commented.
“His opinions are of little value,” Brynden said, a little emotion colouring his tone. “He dreams of carving his name on the annals of history – but he lacks the conviction necessary for it.”
“Unlike you – you mean?” Harry asked a little playfully.
Brynden glared at him or tried to glare as much as a raven could. Which turned out to be a lot, surprisingly.
“Conviction was something that I had in droves, Harry. although in hindsight I may not have put it to good use.”
Harry nodded.
“She didn’t get any time to write back I suppose,” Harry noted, looking at the lack of a letter.
“Yes, she was kept busy fending for herself, and I had to leave for our other tasks,” Brynden said.
“It’s alright,” Harry said. “However, I’ll write one when you leave. Follow me to our stay later – we’ll have things to do in Oldtown for some time.” he had already begun composing the letter in his mind.
In the backdrop of their conversation, the morning had come out in all its glory – and with it – the sun had risen high enough to flood the entire city in light. As the smallfolk went about their business, even the drunks who had passed out on the streets were being roused by the bright light. Harry had found a secluded part of the shoreline to sit in; far away from the fisherman and merchants. They sat together for some time, merely enjoying the companionable silence.
“What do you think of young Griff?” Harry asked suddenly.
Brynden looked at him with an understanding gaze. “He’s a year older than you, I gather. He isn’t touched by madness from whatever little I’ve seen of him, but is a little too brash.”
“What of his skills with the sword,” Harry asked, his tone somewhat circumspect.
"With time and practice, he might hold his own against any ordinary lordling, though his innate skills are nothing to extol," Brynden replied as he observed Harry's demeanour closely.
As Brynden gazed intently at him, Harry raised his eyes to meet his. Their gazes locked and Harry's eyes widened briefly before he broke into a wry smile.
“We fought bandits on the way,” Harry said.
“I see,” was all Brynden said as he waited for Harry to continue.
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Ser Wendel pushed back his chair and stood up from the table as he finished breaking his fast. One of his men had just informed him of Harry’s return.
He had been searching for Harry since dawn, but to no avail. However, it was not an uncommon occurrence, so he did not panic this time. Having already done so once before.
A month had passed since their arrival in Oldtown, and things had settled down quite smoothly. A few days after Howland's departure, they had relocated to new lodgings provided by the Hightowers. The new manse was in close proximity to the Citadel, which made it easier for Harry to attend his lectures.
Harry himself had made himself very comfortable in this new city. He would vanish for hours on end, donning cheap clothes to blend in with the smallfolk. Wendel would accompany Harry when he roamed about on official business, but at other times, he would simply leave him to his own devices.
Wendel was also content with the change of scenery. Since White Harbor was also a port city, he felt at home in Oldtown; albeit the trade here was much more vibrant. Wendel had always been quite gregarious, which contrasted with his fellow Northerners, and he felt he fit well in the bustling city.
Last but certainly not least, Wendel could not overlook the food. Wendel loved his food and the reach was known for its abundance of delicacies. On the whole, Wendel was quite content with their stay in Oldtown.
His thoughts came to a halt as Wendel ascended the stairs to Harry's room. Harry usually left for the Citadel around this time and he wanted to confirm the plans for the day and check on him – although he knew that Harry hardly stayed inside in lieu of attending lectures.
Knocking and opening the door, he saw Harry sitting near the window sill as a bird flew away.
“You’ve startled my bird, Ser Wendel,” Harry said with a chuckle. Wendel could hear the bird’s shrill croaks as it flew away.
“Forgive me, my lord, but I wanted to inquire as to your plans for the day,” Wendel asked as he squinted in the direction of the bird.
Harry seemed to run a few things in his mind before making his mind. “It’s time I suppose, I’ll head for the Citadel in a moment,” Harry said as he stood to get ready.
Nodding at the dismissal, he closed the door with a small bow.
He liked how easy it was to deal with Harry, at least when it came to his duties. At his age, Wendel would have done all he could to get away from the maester’s lectures.
As he stood sentinel outside Harry’s door in wait, he thought over how this day might go. It seemed like today would be another uneventful page to add to the story of his life.
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Before closing, I’d like to thank Dull Pen for taking me on as a patron. Thank you for your support.
