AN: Made a little change to the title of the story, although it is still part of the Desolate Multiverse, as shone in the most recent chapter of Desolation.

Three Kings

Book I: The Stags and the Wolf

Prologue: A Third Eye Opens

Brandon Stark dreamed.

He dreamed, and yet his eyes were opened. And thus, Brandon Stark saw wonderful and terrible things.

He saw a great storm sweep over the Wall, cracking the ancient ice and stone as three thunderclaps sounded above. Above that, a three-eyed crow flew in the distant, cloudy sky.

"Fly!"

He saw two stags, one with antlers of fire, and one crowned in thorns, walking alongside a mighty direwolf in a golden forest, while a crow sat on a branch.

"Fly!"

He saw a man covered in severed hands leading an army of monsters and men against a host of those who would keep the peace. The man had a crow perched on his shoulder. A crow with three eyes.

"Fly!"

He saw a green giant slaughtering demons in the deepest depths of hell. There was no crow there, for not even it dared to travel where the Slayer went.

"Fly!"

He saw a woman with amethyst eyes sitting cross-legged in a T-shaped tower. A crow was perched on the rooftop with her.

"Fly!"

He saw a young man hunting wolf-like beasts in cobble streets, his laughter sounding like the cries of a crow.

"Fly!"

He saw a red moon shatter into pieces, birthing dragons, massive crows, and other winged beasts of great sizes, and broken worlds being made anew by fire and blood.

"Fly!"

He saw a man plunge a black-bladed sword into the chest of a woman with Amethyst eyes. The woman let out a piercing shriek that split open the sky. When the man withdrew the sword, it was on fire. Bran saw the crow in the man's one visible eye.

"Fly!"

He saw a great, inevitable doom, always approaching and never ceasing, in spite of the efforts of those who would stop the rising of this great lake of fire, with crows feasting on the remains, while four great eyes watched on.

"Fly!"

He saw a swordsman with a black heart staring upwards at a shattered moon, a grisly smile upon his black helm. Alongside him was the man covered in severed hands, both standing atop a platform attached to a great Fortress of Doom, somehow suspended in the sky. Crows perched on the battlements, roosting and creating nests for eggs.

"Fly!"

He saw a great black ship, crewed by men with no mouths, the deck soaked in blood, and captained by a man with three faces, all crowned in bloodstone: A face with sea eyes and brown hair, a face with storm-cloud eyes and blond hair, and a face with black hair and two different eyes. One blue eye that twinkled like a jewel or a star, and the other that glowed a hateful black.

"CROW'S EYE!"

And then Brandon Stark awoke.

Brandon gasped, the motion drawing breath back into his lungs as he sat up in his bed. Cold sweat coalesced on his brow and tears stung his eyes. Were his legs capable of movement, perhaps he would have shot out of the bed and fled from his room, along with anything having to do with sleep. Such was the terror caused by this nightmare, by this vision.

But because of his crippling, he was forced to remain in his room unless Hodor, or some other person, carried him around his castle home of Winterfell. It was not the first time that the boy would pray for the restoration of his legs and spine, or for an end to these ceaseless visions, nor would it be the last.

But none of the gods would answer, old or new…

"Gods give me strength to deal with him." Stannis breathed out, his teeth grinding against each other.

"Your brother, the Boy King, the Young Wolf, or all three of them?" Daavos, his most favored knight, asked. There was a bemused smirk on the sailor's face, and had Stannis Baratheon been a lesser man, he most likely would have reacted poorly to the Onion Knight's sardonic attitude. However, Stannis was not a lesser man. He was a king, and a true king did not lash out at every jest or comment.

Instead, Stannis chose to be calm, and respond appropriately. "My brother knows little of war. He may have the Stormlords behind him, but he will direct them poorly. If I cannot convince him to stand down and abdicate his claim to the Iron Throne, then he will fall like the rest." He paused a moment and turned back to the man known as Seaworth. The Onion Knight held his gaze, something between respect and disapproval in his eyes. Stannis spoke onwards.

"Joffery Waters is much the same, save for the fact that he is a cruel little thing enraptured only with the power of his position. Were it not for his grandfather Tywin, I would hardly consider the boy a threat to our forces. I doubt he would even truly be an obstacle. It is more likely that the fool boy will be killed by the citizens of kings landing than any of the other 'kings' in this war."

"And the Young Wolf?" Daavos asked.

Stannis…paused at this. True, Robb Stark was a young man barely into his twenties, and yet his victories on the field—and the capture of Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer—had proven that the 'Young Wolf' was not someone to be underestimated—something it seems that Joffery had failed to learn.

Stannis was determined not to be like Joffery.

"I will learn of his motivations." Stannis declared. "If it is independence for the North, as he said, then he will not dispute my claim to the Throne."

"And if he does regardless? If he finds you wanting?" Daavos asked. "He is the son of Eddard Stark, Warden of the North. If in some way what you do offends his sense of justice, he will try to stop you."

"Then to the hells with him." Stannis replied. "If he chooses to stand against me, I will destroy him as I will destroy every other contender on my path to the Iron Throne. But until I know his motivations, and he knows mine, he is a prospective ally." He turned back to the man that he would name his Hand. "And thus, you are to prevent any attempts against his life. Do we understand each other?"

Daavos nodded, but he was not fully focused on his king. Instead, his eyes were fixated on the far, eastern horizon. Stannis narrowed his eyes, not in frustration, but in curiosity. "Daavos?"

The sailor blinked his eyes and then focused back on the king. "My apologies Your Grace, it's just…" Daavos's eyes hardened. "I think there's a storm coming."

Stannis turned around and looked off into the distance. True to his Hand's word, dark clouds were brewing on the horizon, roiling with lightning and thunder. There was a storm coming.

And its name was war.