Calla

The light that she sought was so close, within a distance she could grab. It was there. For once, she could take the light with her own fingers. For once, she did something that would bring her closer to that light.

The warmth of his back pushed her onwards. He… approved of her or not, he still took her with him, giving her the strength she needed. Calla wanted to believe that during these brief moments when they touched… their hearts were connected.

Which was why she was able to extend her hand…

And within her grip, it was the light she longed for, the light she had summoned.

Joy spouted in her heart as Crystal laid neatly in her hands, its warmth comforting, the shining blade reflecting the violet of her eyes. She could once again wield the sword, this time getting the approval of the Goddess, after repenting for her sins.

This was not the end of it, of course. Calla was aware of how heinous her crime was, yet she had taken an important step. The next was…

Calla gasped when the reflection on the blade smirked, her eyes turning red.

"It's almost time. Come, before it's too late," As the lips reflected moved, a voice not her own emerged.

"You're…!" Calla had heard that voice before, in her dreams, in her deepest nightmare. Rage and fear filled her. He was the man she had killed, the man she despised the most. "Bloodraven!"

"Am I?" the voice crackled, "I was, I suppose. But I'm no longer just him. But it doesn't matter. Time is limited, and it's critical that you listen carefully."

"No," Calla shook her head, "Why should I? I killed you. You're my enemy. If you're alive now, then I just have to… kill you again…" But her hands were shaking. She remembered the slaughter she had committed, the burden of her sins. Even if she was able to wield Crystal again, she could not erase what she had done… could not easily harm another human being without thinking.

Not anymore.

"I'm not your enemy. Not anymore," he said, as if reading her thoughts, "This is bigger than what transcribed between Red and Black, between half-siblings. The lives of all living souls hang in the balance. You need to—"

The reflection on the blade wavered, before extinguishing. Calla looked around and noticed that she was in darkness. Crystal… had lost its shine.

The warmth of his back had vanished as well.

...Right. This is a dream.

A dream that was as important as reality. But it was still a dream.

It was time to wake up.

But this time, I'll remember. Bloodraven, wherever you are, whatever you want with me, I'm going to find it out—

Calla awoke to the pleasant sound of a fire crackling. She was… on her bed, back in her room.

She glanced out of the window. The sky had turned into deep indigo, signifying the end of the day. She had slept for a few hours after the events in the city, it seemed.

No one was around, but there was a towel and a bowl of steaming hot stew just lying on a table nearby. They did not want to wake her, Calla could deduct, but hoped that she would get up and eat when she was hungry.

It should not be too long from dinner time. Pushing aside the blankets, she quietly stood up—

"...Your lips are tighter than I expected, ser." beyond the door there came her whispers. Daena. Something in her tone made Calla hesitant to call for her. It sounded almost… desperate. Self-deprecating.

"Nothing you need to worry yourself about, Princess," Duncan evaded her questioning with a low, unhappy murmur.

Chuckle. "So it isn't that you can't tell me… but that it's doomed to fail, so you don't need to tell me?"

"..." The silence was heavy. Confused, Calla tip-toed towards the door and peeked out with one eye.

Daena was staring at Duncan, the smirk on her lips fading by seconds. The large knight frowned, pursing his lips.

With a resigned sigh, Daena broke the stalemate. "Well, one's plan doesn't often meet one's ambitions. It's nice that you'd protect him over your own safety, ser. You're a good man."

"...I'm not doing this for him."

"Sure, sure," Daena waved, "Now, you have something you want to ask my sister?"

It was a good time to get out, Calla decided. The door creaked open with a light push. "Daena. Ser Duncan. What time is it now?"

"Princess Calla…" Duncan widened his eyes.

"Calla!" Daena did not hesitate before rushing forward and taking Calla's hands, beaming, "Just slightly past dinner time. It has been a long day and Aenys and Uncle Aegor both thought that it would be best to let you rest. How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Much better than before, anyway." Calla glanced sideways at Duncan, "Ser, you have something to ask me, I have heard?"

"Yes. Although I have heard about your… actions in the city today… I still don't understand," the knight's expression hardened, "Why did you kill those people?"

Ah, this man is a true knight, Calla faintly recalled. He had to be bribed with the promise of marrying his lady love to start considering working for them. It was because he was virtuous that Calla trusted him to be Aerion's guard. No wonder that he would be troubled by Calla's action.

And he deserved nothing but the truth. "I panicked. I thought that killing them would solve the problem. I was wrong, and I'm deeply ashamed of what I have done."

"You… panicked?" Duncan muttered, his tone full of disbelief.

"Can't accept that answer?" Calla smiled wryly, "It wasn't something done out of a bigger scheme. It wasn't something done for the greater good. It's just the mistake of one woman, a sin over my shoulders. I'll carry this burden until the end of my life. If I killed someone you know and love, I'm very sorry." She bowed, as she had planned to do to any relatives of victims of the Flea Bottom massacre.

This was the only way to move forward.

"I left this city years ago. I have nobody left here that I can call family and friends," knitted brows twitching painfully, Duncan said, "And that is a very… human answer. I accept."

Calla sighed. That was one thing down. She could find someone else to replace Duncan if needed, but it would still be troubling, and the choice was limited. It had to be one of the old knights that had followed her father since the earliest days. Those men, however, would be hard-pressed to not murder Aerion…

It's nice that you'd protect him over your own safety...

Aerion could not have turned Duncan to his side. They were too different.

Still, that conversation was… concerning.

"Well then, Ser Duncan, if you're done here, please go and tell my dear husband to wait for a few more moments. He gets impatient easily," Daena remarked, wearing a polite smile.

"I know," he made a face, clearly annoyed that he has to deal with Aerion. "There I go, Princess."

The door leading towards the hallway closed. Daena glanced at Calla, "You're truly fine? About your body, about… today?"

"Yes, and yes. I don't really have a reason to lie, do I?"

"I guess so." Daena chuckled quietly, her gaze casting downwards, "I'm thinking that maybe I should start taking lessons from you again."

Calla frowned. "You mean in self-defence?" Years ago, after Daena started talking again, she had requested to be trained so as to not repeat the tragedy of their mother's demise. The lessons lasted for a few years before Calla judged that she was good enough.

And later the war broke out, and everything changed…

"For what else have I taken lessons from you?" Daena dug into her pocket and took out something very familiar. "Specifically, this time, I want to become proficient in using this."

It was Mother's dagger. The one thing she left for Daena. The blade was still sharp, after all those years. "Who are you planning to assassinate?" Calla asked, only half-joking. She was worried. You don't ask to become proficient with a dagger unless you want to kill someone… or, even worse, believe that someone is trying to kill you.

"Ahaha, nothing like that," yet Daena laughed, "Rohanne has seen me taking the dagger out. If she asks me what I can do with it, I want to be able to make a nice performance."

"A little girl won't be able to tell the difference," Calla giggled.

"But what if she's interested? I'll want to teach her myself. Can't disappoint my dearest daughter."

This was a good excuse, Calla thought, and she found herself almost convinced. "Alright," she said, tone soft, "just… don't actually try to kill anyone with it."

Let us deal with him if he tries anything on you.

"Not planning to," Daena said proudly, before her gaze wavered, "...I don't believe I'll have to."

Calla pretended that she did not hear that low, sad murmur.

Calla did not forget about her dream, about Bloodraven, about what she heard. These past few months, she spent time scribbling down knowledge she had learned from her dreams— what the Goddess told her, what she knew about the future that she had changed, and about Bloodraven. It was not the first time she had seen him in her dreams, Calla was sure of that, but she could not remember when.

This troubled her, to think of the knowledge she had missed. Yet she continued to write down what she knew, to search for a hint in those fragmented memories. Nothing, nothing could be found until—

"Your Grace, the Night's Watch needs your help…"

The letter.

It all fell in place. She knew about the Others. They were to come nearly a century later, starting the second long night… but here, they were coming earlier. Because of the… monster? The evil that had once been defeated by Crystal came to Westeros?

She had no idea how Bloodraven cheated death, or how he was able to give warnings to her, but...

Calla would have to fight the monster, just as Sky-asker did in another world. The sword had chosen her, and she had chosen the sword. It was not a destiny she would try to avoid.

But no one else had realised that. Aenys outright dismissed it, calling it a farce. None seemed to consider that it could be true. In search of some ways to change their minds, her gaze naturally met Aegor's. "Please… just once… trust me."

...If there was any in this room that would listen to her, it could only be Aegor.

He had stayed away from her since that day he took her back to the Red Keep, but he was still the one she would look up to. More than anyone, she wanted him to trust her judgment.

His approach was cautious, but after a few questions, he showed clear support for her, and Aenys relented and agreed to let her go… yet he asked that question.

"What if I revoke your position as my Hand for this?"

Shocked and outraged, Calla cried out, "Aenys! What—" But Aegor had stopped her, and answered him calmly. Confidently. As if he was waiting for this moment to happen all along.

The conversation confused and saddened her. There were thorns in every line Aenys spoke, unlike the mad, hatred filled ones months ago, they were calculated traps, waiting for Aegor to fall. What made Aenys do this? Making him choose between her and their House…

This was some sort of power struggle, Calla could sense. But no fruit would be born from his actions. Aegor's first priority had always been the success of House Blackfyre, so he—

"Calla," Aegor said, "Always." There was no hesitation in his voice.

"Aegor…?" She could not believe it, could not believe the resolution when he said her name, could not believe that he would forgo everything else for her… could not believe that she was special in his heart.

When Aegor glanced back at her, gritting his teeth, looking bitter— looking hurt at her surprised expression, she finally started to believe it. Believed that she had a chance—

But Aenys' words changed everything. "You can't be happy unless you know the truth— the truth behind the Blackfyre Rebellion, instead of the lie Uncle Aegor told us," he smiled faintly, "It's… time to break the illusion."

"...What?" Calla did not understand what he was talking about. Turning back to glance at Aegor, his expression was grim.

"This. All these," Aenys spread his arms widely, gesturing around the whole room— and finally, pointing a finger at the Iron Throne, "I only own this throne because of a lie! The lie that Uncle Aegor told Father, about the parentage of Daeron Falseborn— Daeron the Good!"

It hit like a siege hammer. Aenys had resented Aegor because— because he suspected… he believed that the crown he wore was illegitimate. For whatever reason, he chose to believe those lies the Reds said instead of his family.

This was foolish. Of course, Aegor did not lie. What reason did he have to trick his favourite brother and best friend? It was not like Aegor was the one who could become king…

"This won't help anyone," but Aegor's face was filled with layers of complex emotions. Anger, yes, but in his clenched teeth and creased forehead, Calla felt one thing more than anything— regret. "You have experienced that pain. You should know how much this would hurt. Why tell this to Calla, of all people?"

He doesn't deny it, the realisation slowly dawning on Calla. She felt herself shivering. Father… Mother… Aegon, Aemon, Daemon, Haegon, Viserys, Jaehaerys—

All of them… would still be alive if not for the conflict between Red and Black. If not Daemon Blackfyre's bid to the crown…

Not because of his sister Daenerys. But for what he believed was right and just. Because he truly believed that Daeron was a secret bastard, on the Throne as a puppet of schemers… but these...

"I resent you for what you have done to my family. But my pain, my sins… they are of my own. If I have learned anything from the years of being king, it's to accept my own responsibility. And after dwelling on it, I realised that doesn't change what we're fighting for, the righteousness of Calla's actions in the war. Since Bloodraven killed my father and brothers on the Redgrass Field, this was no longer a war about who wears the crown, but a war about taking vengeance. The only thing that the truth changes— is knowing your true face."

Eyes glaring into Aegor's, Aenys pointed a finger at him and yelled, "Look, Calla! This is the true face of the man you love! He is the one who caused all the deaths— the one who forced you to live as a sword instead of a woman!"

...These were... all lies?

I didn't… I fought for…

Crystal… I gained that power… only to fight for a lie?

"No, no, NO!" her silver hair flew in the air as she shook her head desperately. "I don't— I don't believe this! I… I chose my own path… I chose the sword to… to..."

To fight against the enemy? To restore House Blackfyre to Westeros?

...To eliminate evil?

No, this wasn't it. This wasn't the true reason. It was her fate to destroy that monster, perhaps, but it wasn't the original reason she obtained the sword.

The years of striving to become a soldier. The years of training and bloodshed.

She did it for— justice? For vengeance? For glory and duty?

Think about it. Remember it. Recall it. That night—

That night, in Calla's room in Tyrosh.

It was windy. The curtains surrounding her bed collided with the frame constantly. Clutching the sheets covering her body, Calla shivered. She could not sleep.

"Father—" she stopped herself. Father was dead. He could not answer her calls anymore. He would not come rushing when she had nightmares, and comfort her with a face so frightened that it would make her burst out in laughter…

Tonight, Mother would be with Viserys and Jaehaerys, making sure they would not walk out of their beds in the night, trying to find Father. They were too young to know what dying meant. After losing the last present Father gave her, Mother had dark circles around her eyes every day. Calla could not add to her troubles. She was the big girl now.

...Ah, that was right. She was the eldest after Aegon and Aemon died. Aegon would not tease her for her shyness anymore. Aemon would not nitpick on the embroidery she gave him anymore. She could not rely on them now…

Tears rushing out, Calla scolded herself. Don't cry. You can't just keep crying. It's useless.

"But… what can I do…?" She was just a girl. She could not wield a sword, could not lead armies. She could not get back to Westeros and strike back at those who harmed her family. All the value she had was to bring another alliance to her House… no, not even that.

She was married to her uncle Aegor. Father arranged the marriage before the war broke out, to tie his greatest supporter and best friend to his children… to ensure that someone would care for them when… when this happened.

But Uncle Aegor did not need her. He would care for them no matter what. The legal pretext of being Calla's husband gave him the right to be their guardian, but he did not need Calla as… herself. He did not need her to do anything.

Should she focus on being a good wife? Learning all womanly arts, just so she could be the woman behind him when she grew up? Bore him children so he could fight on the field knowing that in death, he had someone to carry on his work?

...If that would help, then she could do that. But Calla saw no light in this future.

They had lost and fled to Tyrosh, the support Father built scattered to the wind. There was no chance of avenging him. Even if they had managed to gather enough men to fight, they would only lose again, until there was no one left…

No, Calla shook her head, she did not want that. She could forgo the chance for revenge, if only she could protect what remained of her family… protect those she loved…

If she could gain that power—

A particularly strong blow of wind swept her sheets away. Closing her eyes tightly, she held herself and wished.

I'll sacrifice everything else… to obtain the power to protect them! So, please—

Give it to me!

The wind stopped.

When Calla opened her eyes again… a sword was floating in the air. Shining brighter than the full moon outside the window, the irregular, jewel-like sword was enchanting.

The moment Calla's fingers touched its handle—

A contract was signed.

"Calla! Calla!" Aegor gripped her shoulders tightly, shaking her, "I didn't want to… for everything I have done, what I want the least is to hurt you! You can despise me, but don't lose yourself! Your fight, your struggles— they won't be tainted just because of my lies!"

...A lapse, it seemed. Calla found herself on her knees, tears dripping down her face. Slowly, her eyes regained focus, and she saw the remorse, the sorrow, the desperation in Aegor's violet eyes.

He does care about me, despite everything.

And my fight… is my own choice. I took Crystal because I wanted to protect my family. Nothing changes just because I know that you lied...

"Yes, the lie Uncle Aegor told didn't affect our fight, our wars. It's a fight for survival. And Calla…" Aenys was beside her as well, looking worried and perhaps, regretted, "you protected us. You did everything you could for our family. I just don't want you to keep pining after him… not knowing the whole truth."

Thank you, brother. But even now, I...

"It isn't wrong for you to tell me the truth," Calla forced out a weak whisper, "You're right. I need to know. Why…" Her gaze locked on Aegor, "Why did you trick Father? He was your brother… your best friend..."

"I wanted revenge for my mother." His mother… Calla recalled her name. Lady Barba Bracken, died of sickness in Stone Hedge long before Calla was born. "She spent her dying days cursing my father and Daeron… She wanted me to be king. I know that's impossible, but Daemon was different. He's born of two Targaryens. He wielded Blackfyre. But Daemon was too noble to usurp Daeron, even when he had grievances against him. So I created a reason for him to fight…"

Calla wanted to hate him for what he had done, for the horrible mistake he had made. But she could not, not when she could see that he had been torturing himself for what he did ever since.

I know it… because I have always been the one closest to you during those two decades. You don't show your emotions a lot… but little by little… I could feel it.

"You've suffered for it," she said, her hands finding his, "You spent the rest of your life trying to take care of us— take care of Father's legacy, while hiding that secret. I can't…" Tears once again filled her eyes, "I can't hate you, no matter what."

Because I still love you.

It piled up, bit by bit, until it became something I can't deny. It's irreversible. Inevitable. Even if it's a mistake, even if it's born from a lie, my feelings are still true.

Aegor held her hands firmly, their fingers interwoven. "I know I can't keep this from you forever. I tried to harden you, to make it hurt less when the truth comes out… but you're stronger than I expected. Calla…" his lips formed a faint smile, "you don't need me anymore, do you? Now that everything is back on track and the truth is out… it's time that I stop interfering in your life… all of your lives." He glanced towards Aenys.

No! Please don't do that to me! Don't leave me!

"What-what?" terrified, Calla shouted, "You're going to— Aenys, you didn't mean it when you said you're going to have Aegor resign, right?"

Aenys frowned, his expression bitter. "After exposing this… I thought you would…" he sighed, "But on the other hand, this gives me some hope… with Selyse and me." With dry, exhausted laughter, he ordered, "Uncle Aegor, I won't ask you to resign from the Handship. But I'll ask you to lay down your work and find a temporary replacement. Accompany Calla to the Wall as she wishes."

Calla stared at him. "I…"

"You're telling me this isn't what you wish?" Aenys' tired smile contained a teasing tone. "I have something else I want to do. Give me a list of adjustments we have to make while accounting for both of your absences within the week."

Ah, Calla remembered. Aenys was always like that.

A caring, gentle brother.

You gave me a chance. I'll have to be brave, too.

When the Throne room only had them left, Aegor asked, "Calla, you really want me to go with you? After…"

"Yes," she answered before he finished his sentence, "Yes. I want..." feeling her bravery fleeting, she forced herself to add, "I want you to stay with me forever. I want you to treat me… as your wife."

As he stared at her, mouth agape, Calla took a deep breath—

And pressed her lips to his.