A Raven in Flight

A New Reign

Brynden was already raising his hand to knock at his lady mother's door when he changed his mind. Lady Melissa rarely raised her voice and was never scathing but he had learned to read her moods since a young age. Right now, she sounded tired and discouraged and he hated seeing her like this, so he was not eager to enter.

"Have some more patience, I'm begging you," she was saying.

"I've been nothing but patient for those three years, Melissa," a man's voice replied – one that Brynden recognized. "But I'm starting to think we'll never wed."

Brynden's mother sighed. "It's hard for me as well. But I don't dare, Jonor. You don't know him but I do. He'll never let it go. I'll pay dearly."

The man paused. And then, "Do you really believe it? He threw you out with the children and he's had how many women since then? Ten? Or ten times ten? He's probably forgotten your name by now. You worry too much."

"You don't understand and I cannot explain it so that you do."

But Brynden understood, more than the man did. While his mother was careful never to speak ill of the king, he could say that she both despised and feared him. It was like Mya's playthings – she might not want them anymore but if Gwenys took them without permission, she'd fly into a rage.

"He won't live forever," Melissa said.

"That's what we've been telling ourselves for years. Sometimes, I think he will…"

But he didn't. Later that afternoon, Brynden watched the raven flying to the castle and wondered what news it would bring. Then, he stopped thinking about it and kept exploring the godswood. It was far more interesting anyway.

Mya found him some time later and when he heard her call his name out, he realized that he had spent hours here already. He was always surprised when he realized that time had flown around him again. Such was the fascination the godswood held for him.

Not for his sisters, though. Mya threw her long brown braid over one shoulder and looked at the sky anxiously. "I don't understand why you like to keep company with him," she said, staying well away from the great weirwood tree that Brynden was leaning against.

No, he thought, you don't. Although all in their House kept the old religion, few were those who felt so much at ease in the proximity of the old gods. Brynden liked hearing their voices, although he never spoke about it after he was old enough to realize that no one else did. To him, they were soothing company, helping him think better, accepting him as he was, red eyes and all.

"I like it here," he said simply.

She scowled. "Don't I know that!"

To his surprise, then she sat down next to him and leaned her back against the trunk, right under the carved face. He didn't say anything.

"There was a raven from King's Landing," she finally said. "The King is dead."

"May the gods judge him for good and bad," Brynden replied without thinking, as he had heard his grandfather say many times at someone's passing. Then, he peeked at Mya's face curiously but the fading light did not reveal much. Still, it did occur to him that she looked like someone in need of comfort. Was she looking for it from the weirwood tree, like he did? "Mya, you don't mourn him, do you? I mean, he sent us away without a second thought and we didn't even see him anymore, save for that one time…" He had not been impressed then. "He wasn't very good to us."

He expected a whack on the head but instead, his sister sighed. "I know," she said. "But he used to be, once."

And then, dusk fell, ravens flew all over their heads, she jumped to her feet with a shrill cry, and everything was just as it had been the day before.

In Raventree Hall, they were greeted by a furious quarrel. Their mother, never the one to lose her calm, was shouting right back at their grandfather; pressing her face at the door of the solar, Gwenys moved a little right, so they could take places on both sides of her.

"You've always been too kind for your own good but that's no kindness, it's sheer foolishness!" Lord Blackwood roared. "You cannot rely on that income for the children. The King will rescind it the day he's crowned, why can't you see! He'll be mad not to. Why should he honour the late King's wishes? What good has he seen of him?"

"He won't," their mother yelled back. "He's a good man and honest. He knows who is to blame and who isn't. And children cannot bear the blame for their parents' sins. Not in his eyes."

Their grandfather huffed in despair. "You only want to see the good in people, Melissa. But it's going too far. You still hope that once the new king reaches King's Landing, he'll send men here and say, "I haven't forgotten about you and your children, my lady, would you please come to court where you'll be treated most honourably."

"Why not?" she shot back.

"Because this isn't how the world works! You're only in for more heartache when you realize that your cherished friends, the new King and the Dornishwoman, has forgotten all about you."

"I am not having this conversation with you," Melissa snapped and her footsteps came to the door. The three children run for the nearest hallway, terrified that they'd be caught. In fact, they didn't stop running until they found themselves in the safety of the dark garden.

"Are you going to snivel now?" Mya finally asked and looked at her sister, disgusted. "What does it change? We've always known that we have no real prospects. You and I, we'll be lucky if we could snatch two knights to wed us. As to Brynden, he'll probably have to learn some craft to make his living. Court was never our place."

Gwenys sniffled and then smiled. "It will be," she said. "You'll see."

She was the same as their mother, kind to a fault and trusting beyond fault. Brynden and Mya looked at each other, exasperated.

And yet, two moons later, when a man arrived at Raven Hall with word from the new king, Gwenys looked at her siblings who did their best not to look at her and mouthed, "I told you so."