From a nearby oak a raven quorked, and Bran heard the sound of flapping wings as another one of the big black birds flapped down to land beside it. But there was another heartbeat, stronger heartbeat, he could feel the warm blood pulsing through its veins from a mile away. His mouth would water at the thought of the tasty, fresh, dark meat. He waited for the perfect moment, pressed his back claws into the snow and leaped forward, digging his sharp teeth into the warm flesh, snatching the elk’s neck bloody. Food tasted so much better after hunting it than having it served on a platter.
When his belly was full, the hunter was back into his crippled body with the crown of the Six Kingdoms on its head. Duty calls. If he could, the King would run free on all fours, hunting from sunrise to sunset. But when has a King ever been free? The moment his eyes turned their usual brown color, his favorite hunting spot of the forest disappeared and he was back into the King’s chambers, into the clothes of a King, into his wheelchair. “Thank you” he turned his head to the imp who handed him a paper stamped with a wolf’s head. After he read the letter from his sister, Bran rolled it up, tossing it into the fire. He read the expression on his Hand’s face as soon as he met Tyrion’s uneven eyes, so he nodded accepting the duties of a King. “Send a raven to Winterfell, inform my sister that the Six Kingdoms are not to interfere in any conflicts regarding the North.”
Tyrion must have read the concern on his face “I know you wish to help your sister, but this is the right decision. War is upon us and we cannot send half our armies to fight for an independent Kingdom. The numbers of Yara’s ironborn excel ours by far as it is. She never joined her armies to Daeneryses against the dead or at King’s Landing. We also have to assume her Iron Fleet doubled since then.” Bran knew all this himself but all the reasons in the world wouldn’t make this any easier. Sansa is his sister after all.
The King missed his home, he missed Winterfell, the sound of wooden practise swords colliding in the yard, he missed climbing the high towers… He missed his childhood, when everything was much simpler. Now, he carried a burden of six Kingdoms on his shoulders, a burden he never asked for. His only escape was when he wasn’t himself. Whether he was a raven fighting to attain close distance to a dragon, a hungry wolf overseeing the heated situation in the North or checking up on his youngest sister in the West, it didn’t matter. During his reign he had met many men who would kill to sit on his throne, wearing his crown, but the King never felt more alive than when he soared through the sky, accompanied by other black birds or running freely through the darkness of the forest, hunting his next meal. All of that did not prove nearly as challenging as the duties of a King.
The situation in Dorne was proving more alarming with each passing day. The new Dornish Prince was not loved amongst his people since the day he kneeled to King Bran the Broken. A Stark. The people sought independence and with each passing day, they grew bolder, conspiring and forming rebellious groups in the late hours of the night. The Prince had caught many of these rebels and sent them to serve on the Wall, acting on the King’s command. But the King knew this was only a temporary solution to a permanent problem. These groups started off with just a few members and were easy to control, however, by now, half the Dorne population was surely a member of such a group. To make matters worse, independence was not their only objective. Revenge was the other. Revenge for every Martell member. Revenge aimed towards the Lannisters. And so it happens, a Lannister was the acting Hand of the King.
Daily, Bran would try to go back through history and find out if anyone, ever, had been successful in capturing a dragon. His most urgent concern. All attempts proved hopeless. Scorpions and Targaryens. That is what worked on dragons. And the last Targaryen was on his way no less than the first scorpions. Drogon had stopped with his attacks for the time being, but how long can a beast remain calm?
“I can’t find Jon.” the King met the imp’s eyes “By now he should have arrived. Last I saw him, he was a two day ride away from the hill. That was a week ago... Have I sent my brother to his death?”
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