King Bran the Broken - The Ravens

A crowd of people flowed into the courtyard of the Red Keep, eager to see the one who had issued the summons to them and fearful of what he might expect. Or, maybe, it was the very person who had summoned them whom they feared for they had heard nought but stories of him until now.

King Bran the Broken, sitting in his wheeled chair, his constant throne, watched as those who were now his subjects gathered before him on the steps of the ruined Red Keep. The first sight they had of him seemed to confirm many of the stories they had heard, mostly from those among them who were of the North. His still expression unnerved them more than the knowledge that they were standing before a king. His brown eyes seemed to look so deep within them that they had no hope of hiding anything from his gaze.

Brandon Stark might have smiled or felt sorry for them, but Bran the Broken did not feel anything. They had been summoned for a purpose and that was all that mattered. He had chosen not to receive them in the throne room, where the metled blades of the Iron Throne still rested in a frozen mass. A small part of him, perhaps a remaining shade of the person he had been before becoming the Three-Eyed Raven, appreciated the poetry of the choice. Only weeks before, beneath the falling ashes of a dying city, Daenerys Targaryen had spoken to her armies, announcing her intent to spread the Conquest to the world. Now, sitting in the very spot where she had made her fiery speech, Brandon, formerly of the House Stark, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar, Lord of the Six Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, would make a very different speech… and in a very different tone.

To his right stood Tyrion Lannister, the reluctant Hand of the King recently released from weeks of imprisonment at the hands of the Unsullied. With his beard trimmed, his hair in a less scraggly state than the dungeon had left it in, and clad in simple but fine black garments, he stood looking at the gathering before him, the golden pin of the Hand on his chest. His brow was furrowed and his mind already reeling as it tried to take in the difficulty of the task ahead of him, the reconstruction of a kingdom; of six kingdoms, almost an entire continent. Bran had been right: his was a punishment. And as he stood, waiting for the crowd to finish assembling, he appreciated the irony of the king's decision to give his first address on the spot of Daenerys's last. What she had promised was a bright new world, a better one. But it had also promised violence and destruction; for the new world to be born, the old one had to die. Bran also promised a new world, but one that would be built not through destruction but through change. It was a challenge, a much greater challenge. But it felt right to Tyrion. Daenerys had chosen what was easy and so had Tyrion for so very long. Now, he intended to do things right.

Alongside the King and his Hand stood two other people; one a tall woman in armour, the other a smaller man also clad in armour. The tale of Ser Brienne of Tarth had somehow spread to the south, no doubt from some of the men who had survived the Battle of Ice and Fire and left the allied armies following the victory, making for the warmer climates of the south. While some questioned how a woman could become a knight, and some septons had even spoken out against the idea, none could find the passage of the Seven-Pointed Star forbidding the knighting of women. Only tradition stood in the way. And few would choose to challenge the woman who had fought in so many of the Song's great battles and now stood as the King's protector. Podrick had also pledged his sword to Bran, choosing to remain with the only two people who had ever shown him any kindness and provided him with the training to survive the battle against the dead. He was still a squire and still had much to learn, but Brienne had already decided that she would knight him the first chance she had.

Finally, the crowd had gathered and an eerie silence fell upon the watchers.

And then, King Bran the Broken spoke to them.

'The lords and ladies of the Six Kingdoms have chosen me for your king.' He spoke in the same, emotionless voice he always spoke in, but it carried to the entire party assembled before him. 'And now, they have chosen you also. The Great Council has made its decision, but our land still needs to know that a new age has begun. That the war that has so long plagued us is ended. From the Blackwater to Lannisport, from Dorne to the Twins…' Tyrion twitched as he recognized the similar expression from Daenerys's speech, '…castles, towns, villages and hovels remain ignorant of the peace. Your lords and ladies have chosen me, and so I have asked them to choose you.

'The task I mean to appoint to you is a daunting one: you will be my voices throughout the realm, to bring my words to the people and the people's words to me. You will be my Justices, meeting out my Peace to Six Kingdoms. You will be my ravens.'

Excited and worried murmurs spread through the crowd as they turned to one another, surprised beyond what they could have imagined by their king's words… and the trust he was placing in them.

'You all fought valiantly, in a variety of ways, in the wars of the Song. Such as Ser Otho Rivers, who stood by the Blackfish to reclaim Riverrun, but refused to forgo his oath when his Lord ordered him to open the gates to Ser Jaime Lannister's army.' A stunned voice was heard from within the crowd and people turned to see Ser Otho's face as he was identified. 'Lady Mirra Rowan, who held her father's lands and castles against the hordes of robbers who had gathered and roamed the Reach following the Sack of Highgarden.' Another surprised reaction. 'Such as Lyonel of the Smal Town, a sworn man to House Baratheon, who followed King Stannis to the Wall, and later to Winterfell. Who fought in the Battle of the Bastards alongside House Mazin, who took him in. And later, in the Battle of Ice and Fire… and who now stands at the very bottom of these steps.' Shock registered on every person's face when they turned to find Lyonel of the Smal Town… at the very bottom of the steps.

'None of you should be concerned about me, as I know you are,' Bran continued, silencing the crowd again. 'I have no sorcery in me, nor allegiance to dark arts your septons and wise men have warned you against. I merely see all that was and all that is. Tell my people and yours of this, and convey my message. I will answer any question they present to me. The only question they need answer is owed to themselves: do they truly believe they want to hear what I will tell them?'

Bran ceased speaking for a moment. 'As my chosen, I will give you this day the chance to see for yourselves what I speak of. I know some have questions that I can answer. Come to me now. And I will answer. And, should you feel ready for the challenge of bearing my words to the furthest reaches of the realm, I will accept you into my service.'

With his words said, Bran the Broken ceased speaking and waited.

For a time, nothing happened. Whispers began to crack the silence, but only gradually and slightly, as if they worried that a whisper would not be enough to conceal themselves from their king's hearing.

And then, one person begun walking forward.

It was Mirra Rowan.

'Your Grace,' she bowed to the king and looked uncertainly at the Hand and the two guards.

'Lady Mirra. Are you certain you wish for me to answer your question?'

'If it is within your… power… Your Grace. I believe that I do.'

'I will answer if you ask.'

Mirra gathered her courage, her eyes which had been so steady when she had starred down the robbers at Goldengrove now unable to remain on Bran's face, shifting as if to find support from the rest of the party.

But eventually she asked her question: 'How did Dickon Tarly die?'

Tyrion winced when he heard the question. He had not forgotten the day the Tarlys had died on the Goldroad, though he had often wished he could.

Bran did not react… until his eyes went white. Mirra screamed but stayed her ground, her eyes now fixed upon the king. Finally, his eyes returned to their customary brown.

'He died in an act of loyalty. Daenerys Targaryen had sentenced his father to death by dragonfire and he refused to let him die alone for his convictions. He did not try to flee, not even when the dragon leaned over them.'

Mirra's fear had vanished and she no longer looked away from Bran's face. Her eyes were blue and they seemed to glimpse the truth in the king's brown eyes. For a long moment, she did not speak and nor did he.

Finally, she said. 'I will be your messenger, Your Grace.'

The ghost of a smile appeared on Bran's face, but it seemed at odds with the rest of his face, which remained the same. 'Then come closer, Lady Mirra, so I might share with you the knowledge that I will share with my Justices alone.'

The young lady did as she was ordered and bent as close to the king as possible without touching him, and listened as he spoke to her. Once he was done, she looked him in the face for another long moment, another look that Bran the Broken held. And the, she turned to Tyrion. 'My Lord Hand, may I ask for the way to the godswood?'

Tyrion had been told to expect such questions from the new Justices. So, he ushered one of the pages who stood nearby to come and guide the young Lady Mirra to the Red Keep's godswood.

For the rest of the day, the chosen of the lords and ladies came before Bran the Broken, to ask the question they wanted answered. Some, as they stood before the king, chose not to ask and were excused. The others asked as they had been allowed to. All received their answer. Some only learning through this experience that they, in their deepest hearts, had not wanted to know the answer to the question. A few chose to take their leave and return to their homes, or to seek new ones. But most elected to accept the king's offer and became his Justices. They received also the knowledge that had first been offered to Lady Mirra… and they all took their leave by asking for the directions to the godswood.

When the last of the new Justices left, the light was fading.

Podrick Payne pushed Bran's chair back into the Red Keep, to the quarters the young king had chosen, close to the godswood. Tyrion walked beside him and finally asked the question he had been holding in all day.

'Your Grace…?'

'You wish to know what they learnt in the godswood.'

It was no question. Tyrion was still not used to the way Bran had of knowing such things. 'I do.'

'They will learn how to fly.'

Tyrion looked at the boy in his chair. And knew that he would receive no better answer.

-0-

The King's Justices, the ones commons and lords alike would soon come to call the 'King's Ravens', left King's Landing within the following days; some as soon as the morrow of their appointment had come, others when they had made the needed preparations for their journey. Soon, the Ravens were flying to every corner of the Six Kingdoms, bringing the word of the new king to the people. In castles, towns, villages and hovels, they spoke of the decision of the Great Council and of Bran the Broken. They spoke of his will to bring peace and prosperity back to the broken realm. They spoke of his strange ability, confirming the stories that had befallen the commons about their new king. And they spoke of his promise, the promise to answer any question that would be brought to him.

In many places, word of the war's end brought happiness back to the broken smallfolk, and the choice of a new king warmed their hearts. The passage of the Ravens was sometimes cheered with cries to the king's long health. But they were not always met as such. Some dreaded the idea of a sorcerer king and hid in their homes, hoping comforting surroundings would protect them from whatever evil Bran the Broken would bring upon them all. Septons decried this new king, from a foreign and godless land. They claimed his powers were sorcery of the spirits who claimed to be gods in the North and whom the Faith had banished. But religious fervour had died down and, while the decrying septons drew crowds to them, far more chose to heed the king's invitation. Scores of people took to the roads to join the Red Keep and demand Bran deliver on his promise.

This, he did. He always answered whatever question was asked of him. The men, women and children who left the ruins of the Red Keep were not the same as they had been when they had entered. But when they returned to their homes, if they returned, they spoke in hushed reverence of their new king, the one who had given the answers that no other could. Gradually, even those who had feared the powers of the sorcerer king begun to come out, as no sign of divine retribution for the king's actions fell upon the earth and all spoke of him so well. The septons continued to decry him, but their crowds grew lesser and lesser, and the sermons grew shorter and shorter… until most of them ended completely. Some of these holy men even went to King's Landing themselves to bring the new king over to reason and allow a godly man to take the throne instead of him… only to have their own questions answered. While most left the capital and returned to their holy work, some shed their septons' garbs and entered Bran the Broken's service. Some began entertaining the godswood of the Red Keep. Others travelled to near and faraway castles to entertain the godswoods' there. Other still, became Ravens.

-0-

Author's Note: The first chapter, one of many I have planned, about the reign of King Bran the Broken. This was supposed to be only one chapter but it has grown so much in the mere six hours that I have been writing this story. The idea I have right now is to cover Bran's reign through the eyes of different characters who are involved in it. I'm already working on the next one, one with Tyrion as our main character. For now, how did Bran spread news of his ascent to the Six Kingdoms and, more importantly, how was Bran's rule received by the commons of Westeros? Let it not be forgotten that the idea presented is that a sorcerer king has been elected to rule them...