Chapter 4: Cassius 2, Dark Dreams

...

All was black.

"Will he live?"

"Very difficult to say, my Lady — struck a tree — deep wound and —"

He could feel himself falling now. Up and up and up, as the blackness overtook him.

…

He was looking around at the sky, sitting on a branch in some enormous golden tree, admiring the twinkling lights above and below.

"There are more men than there are stars," a rasping echoey voice said from beside him. "If there was a war, men could win."

He looked over and found a great beast sitting beside him, draped in faded beiges and clinking metal chains, obscuring everything but the beast's dark hair and monstrous maw of teeth.

He blinked for a moment, enraptured at the meeting, yet annoyed by the creature's suggestion, "men might have the numbers, but we do not have the strength."

"Perhaps," the figure allowed, "for now… But what if you could wield such power? Would you?"

A trick, surely? Who would ask such a thing?

"Is there a way?" His hunger had always been unslakable.

"If there was, would you take it?"

"Yes." His reply was immediate this time, for he had known the answer to that question for as long as he remembered.

"There is always a price," came the reply.

"Which can be paid by others," he said immediately.

"But at what cost to your soul?" The figure beseeched. "Would you not feel… remorse? Guilt? Shame?"

He almost scoffed. He was above such petty things. But he did not let it show.

"Perhaps," he replied instead, doing his best to imitate how he often heard Rhaegar speak, "but I fear such is the burden we all must carry, for the sake of what is right, and for the sake of what is good."

The figure seemed to almost shrink in on itself for a moment, but he could not read any sentiment from its hideous face and did not know if it believed him.

"Very well. I see you shall not be swayed. And I am oathbound to show you the way, and so I ask thee: look within thyself," the figure was reaching a great clawed hand towards him now, "I pray only that when the time comes, you will reconsider your convictions."

And then the claw touched his forehead and the world seemed to roll in place, as his body went limp and slipped off the branch - blackness claiming him once more.

…

"Princess Rhaenys, you must eat.."

"But- bu- but, Cass'us is dead!"

"He is not dead, sweet child. He is only resting..."

…

He was falling again. Not upwards like before, but down this time.

As his eyes opened, all the world seemed spread out before him, but he did not feel fear. He knew too much already. He could fly if he wished to.

In the distance he felt something shaking. Something calling for him. Like a great drum of power beckoning him forth.

Below, he saw King's Landing, with the Red Keep and the collapsed dragon pit, and it's great city spread out over three hills.

He felt a pull north, and his gaze slipped across the great expanses of the broken Riverlands and the Stark Kingdom where he saw a great cluster of smiling pale trees, who all looked up at him and laughed, their mouths and eyes oozing blood. And then further, beyond the great wall and beyond the frozen planes and spires, where he beheld something extraordinarily. A white curtain, and a frozen heart, so full of glacial power that he thought it might spill forth at any moment and feast on everything in its way. A hunger consumed him, a yearning desire, even as pain began building in his eyes. But then he felt the same drumbeat from before calling him, and he turned away from the frigid undying north.

And so he looked east, across the narrow sea, towards Bravos and Pentos and the former Triarchy, and he saw shapes - skulls and candles and flickering trinkets. But he was not greatly impressed, so he looked further to the east and saw things more pleasing to him.

Valyria was a great cinder. Still burning even now. Its smoking ruines filled with magic. And he felt a pull then - a burning - to go to the lands and seek out the faded flame. But the distant drumming called to him, and he turned from Valyria as well.

And so his gaze continued on, past Qarth, where he beheld rotten men wearing human masks and drinking purple inc. There was a drumbeat heart there, but it was weak, and he did not need the ringing of his own distant purpose to turn from it.

Further, he beheld a great shadow, with dragons dancing under a distantly rising sun. There was enormous power here. But there were no hearts. No beating. No calling. Only a dead thing - entombed in a great corpse city.

He was confused, and now acutely aware of the ground growing closer.

Perhaps the oceans then. He stared down into the deep and saw a gaping cavern with a sunless sea. With singing creatures and dancing men. Will you be my prince, the deep things seemed to ask. But he turned away from this. He was searching for something else.

But nothing called out to him now, and he was still falling. There were other things, but they were too distant for him to reach, or too weak for him to care.

Was it not here? Annoyance burst up inside him. What had the beast said, again? And suddenly he realized. The drumbeat called out for him again, but close.

A moment later, he looked down at himself this time, and saw it - in the place where his heart was supposed to be a black fire burned instead.

He felt the pulsing call, and in triumph he reached out and grasped the black flame with both hands.

And blackness claimed him then.

…

"The Grandmaester said that his body is healing remarkably well, mother."

"The gods have stolen so many of my children from me. Rhaegar, what cruelty is this?"

"It has only been a half-moon. My brother may wake, still."

…

He was standing in an abyss, surrounded completely by silence.

He felt the pulsing heartbeat-like thumping from all around now - not making any sound - but bearing the semblance of words, each strike lighting a thousand symbols in his mind.

Soon, a great black rock-like monolith curled from the incy depth, like some great finger, draped in arcane runes, and he felt his hand raise involuntarily to his head. A moment later, a sharp pain, as he tore his left eye from its socket and pressed it to the dark. The symbols on the outreached pillar glowed a bright white-sliver and he found that the marks were burned upon his outstretched eye. A moment later he had returned it to his head, and his gaze now pierced the shadow around him, showing him all the truths of the black flame. And now, the heartbeat-silence was understandable.

Death flame, death flame, death flame it chanted.

And he was filled with awe and wonder, as his mind flooded with light.

…

And suddenly he was awake. He recognized the room as being a chamber adjacent to his own. The glimmering sunlight coming in from the window seemed quaint and dainty, soaking through his mind like blood through a dying man's clothes. Yet, he had never felt more alive - never more powerful.

Looking about, and seeing that he was alone in the room he pulled himself from his bed while idly examining his wounds and -ignoring all manner of stinging in his body- casually sauntered his way to the single closed wooden door, noticing the chairs and other left-behinds of people who had must have been watching him while he slept. He had a bandage around his entire upper body, with great emphasis along the left of his back, paired with simple black cotton leggings.

As he opened the door, a shrill scream from what he assumed was a servant girl tumbled his head into agony, before abruptly she clamped a hand over her mouth. She was stood speaking to some guard halfway through the regal hall. As lances of pain continued to pound through his skull, he had to expend a significant part of his will to stop himself from glaring at the stupid girl.

A moment later an adjacent door burst open, and Ser Oswell Whent came charging through, sword in hand, white cloak billowing behind him, before abruptly stopping to stare at him with a gratifying shock - even if it was rather undignified for a kingsguard.

Next to the door he had just come through, his loyal sword Ser Jeremy was stood, tall and helmeted.

Despite his body's tiredness he commanded his mouth to rasp out "Water. Now."

He thought for a moment that he would need to say more, but it was apparently enough to shock the man next to him out of whatever mood he had been stuck in (difficult to read through the armour and helmet), because the man immediately began issuing commands to the guards outside while Ser Oswell guiding him back in bed. Barking at the girl to fetch water for the Prince, promptly.

Now he just had to figure out what he had missed.

AN: Cassius again :)