The sun was diving in behind the tall forested mountain, putting an end to this peculiarly hot day. Drops of sweat trickled down the King’s forehead as the boy named Podrick pushed his chair through the streets of King’s Landing without a word. It was a very odd day. Oddly quiet, oddly hot, oddly empty. A faint breeze would brush against his cheek now and again, bringing nothing but more heat along. Barely any of the people were out on the streets, probably only those who had no home to go to. So quiet. Unusually quiet for a city as big as this one. As he moved between the houses, heat was radiating from all sides: the ground, the walls, the sky… A flock of ravens shrilling alarming calls, flew overhead. Ravens? Odd. The breeze involved into wind, gashing the dust of the streets into the air, clouding his vision. The dusty fog swallowed the city, allowing black, blurry outlines to be the only guides through.
When they finally reached the Red Keep, the King’s sight was deceiving him… Or so he thought. Ruins surrounded him. Ruins, worse than those the day this city fell at the feet of a Targaryen. It was as if he was walking through the aftermath of a fallen city. The heavy iron doors opened as soon as he got near them, as if welcoming him inside the throne room. Confused, he turned his head back searching for Podrick’s face in hopes of any explanation, but he was all alone, sitting in his chair. How did I get here alone?
Using his arms, he rolled the wheels forward, pushing himself through the thick air. The further he got, the clearer the air until finally, the fog faded away. That’s when he saw her. Waiting for him, sitting on the throne. His throne.
“Mmm I liked the old one better” spoke the girl wearing a three-headed-dragon crown upon her silvery hair, looking down at the arms of the throne where her hands flew over gently, as if testing the quality of it. The new dome and the rest of the roof were gone, the once shiny floor had lost its sparkle, most of the walls were ruins. The King was wondering how the room was still standing and more importantly… how is Daenerys Targaryen sitting on his throne?
The moment she was done carefully evaluating the throne, her fiery eyes met his and a loud roar filled the sky like thunder. Coming from behind her, Drogon settled next to his mother and sniffed the new throne. The mother of dragons raised one eyebrow “He seems to agree with me.” Drogon slowly lowered his huge head next to her, his eyes of molten magma focusing on the prey in front of him. His mouth opened, displaying sharp black teeth and a chilling deep growl made Bran’s skin crawl. Smiling, Daenerys stood up and rested her hand over the snout of her beast, calming him down. As she took the first step towards him, the crippled boy got the same, familiar feeling when the Night King was coming towards him. For him. Wasn’t fear though.
“Go on” she said, pointing her hand towards the throne. “You can sit on it… for now.”
Refusing to move, the King asked “What do you want?”
Her blood-thirty eyes shone brighter than fire and her lips curved into a wicked smile. “Where is Jon?”
The King woke up, his heart aiming to burst out of his chest. Where is Jon? Weeks, even months have passed since he sent his brother on a dragon hunt. Lately, he used his strength guiding ravens up North, helping his sister, which left him no time or strength to search for Jon. His brother lost, his sister at war, left him wishing he could split into two and help them both. But even the greatest warg who had ever lived did not possess such power, much less a King.
The situation in the North was not getting any better. Following his Hand’s instructions, Bran used ravens to scout out the direction the wildlings are heading. The Dreadfort. The Queen in the North sent all of her forces around the walls of the castle, awaiting their enemies amidst the thick forest. The Dreadfort was right in the middle of Winterfell and Karhold. But because the wildlings were on foot, the northern armies got there first, like Tyrion suggested. The wildlings would also not know that the castle was empty, awaiting their arrival. The armies caring Stark sigils would, however, stay outside of the walls, waiting for their enemies to walk inside the trap. This is when they would attack, forcing them to retrieve behind the gates and eventually trapping them all inside the castle. Tormund would be compelled to make a decision. Bend the knee or watch his people perish.
Daily the King would take upon the skies, making sure the wildlings were heading towards Tyrion’s trap. They were. Of course, they weren’t his only concern, nor his most urgent one. After he would be confident enough in the intentions of his sister’s enemies, he would turn his focus on the only thing in the world capable of annihilating a whole city to the ground in less than a day. Drogon. Grieving news came from the East more often than not. The beast was feeding, burning and killing everything that stood in his way or threatened his life. Golden cloaks and Dothraki alike. It came at great cost to the royal army which left the King wondering if he should retreat and leave the Dothraki screamers deal with the destroyer of their sacred city, Vaes Dolthak. However, the royal army was the one with the scorpions and without them, the Dothraki would not stand a chance.
To make matters worse, with the best part of the armies in the East, King’s Landing’s defence relied on the Kingsguard and a little over than a hundred gold cloaks. Even though his Hand was not yet aware of it, Bran carried yet another burden on his shoulder. Dorne. Once, when his strength was not completely drained, he flew to the sandy southlands. The rebellious groups have reached numbers of a solid army, outnumbering the men still loyal to the new Prince of Dorne by far, which encouraged them to start marching west. Flying overhead, following the formation column of armed soldiers, led Bran to their destination. Starfall. The former seat of House Dayne. The city welcomed them into their castle, many of its inhabitants putting on an armor and joining the cause. The King knew, it was only a matter of time before they start marching North.
That, along with everything else, kept Bran awake in the late hours of the night. When he did manage to drift off to sleep, his dreams were based more on his fears than running freely through the dark forest with his pack. Ever since he sat on the throne, his dreams resembled rather those of a King than a three-eyed raven. And that was exhausting, taking away the only escape of his reality.
Right after the daily hours devoted to the requests and pleas of the people of King’s Landing, the routine checks of the North required Bran’s attention. He ordered Podrick to escort him to his private chambers where he could focus in peace and quiet. Only his Hand was allowed to go in or out during his endeavoring state. The further the distance, the more strength left his body whilst flying. Although by now, Bran could spend a whole day outside his own body. The loss of strength on a day like that, however, doesn’t even come close to how drained he felt that one time he tried controlling a dragon. That is why, even though Drogon could be the solution to all his problems, he never dared attempting again.
As soon as the door shut behind Tyrion, so did Bran’s eyes. The ravens seemed to be immune to the bites of the coldness in the North, much like the wolves. He spread his black wings into the air and began the search. Flying felt like nothing he had ever experienced, not as a wolf and certainly not as a human. Strong wind whooshed through his feathers, providing a sense of floating. Nearing the thick forest around the Dreadfort, it was time to descend for a better view. A view that shocked him back to his own body. Wait, no. He is still flying. What is happening? It felt as if someone grab a hold of him and tried pulling him out, someone trying to replace him, fight him. Another warg. Of course they were no match for the three-eyed raven but as soon as Bran faced the truth of the situation, he gave up the fight having already lost the battle. Defeated, he quickly opened his eyes and looked at his Hand.
“The northmen are surrounding to the wrong city walls...”
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