𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 || 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑾𝒐𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝑪𝒓𝒚 𝑶𝒖𝒕

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑽

CHAPTER V
300 AFTER CONQUEST

BRAN

Flying and soaring, gliding and glowing, he moved through the wings of crows, saw through their eyes. He was there in the moment again, staring through the blurry gray eyes of a crow. But as Bran lingered within the body and mind of the creature, he found it to be a raven, a black as night raven, not a crow. But what he saw through the eyes of the raven was indeed a Crow.

"Stark! Stark!"

Bran found he had no control over the bird, finding the words on his own tongue as if they were speaking through him.

"Stark! Corn!"

"Gods damned bird.."

Muttered a voice in response, and Bran tried to listen closer, tried calling out to the Crow through the raven.

"Corn! Corn!"

I'm getting nowhere, Bran thought in his own mind but through the raven's also. He was getting frustrated. Again and again he tried but all the raven would speak would be the same thing it was saying for hours now. Deciding to take a break from trying to speak to the Crow, Bran moved his blurred eyes around the room, noticing that it was an office of sorts, with candles and a hearth, flames and warmth wrapped around it. But the Crow was cold. The Crow wasn't in a good mood, Bran could see.

"Stark?"

This time the raven spoke with a questioning tone, a tone that surprised Bran deeply. It wasn't a sharp caw or shout that previously pestered the Crow, but a calm asking of a question. It almost sounded human. And to the Crow, he seemed to think the same.

"What?"

It asked.

"Don't you see these letters? They're important, and I've given you corn already, so what do you want?"

The Crow asked with frustration in his voice, half glaring, half staring into the eyes of the raven. Into my eyes, Bran thought as he looked deep into the Crow's amethyst eyes.

"King!"

I didn't say that.

"King! King!"

Bran could feel a different presence within the raven then. It was a powerful presence, and Bran suddenly snapped out of the raven far away, brought back to the reality of his life and location. Looking at himself now, he saw he did not have feathers on his arms, he had no wings. He had no third eye anymore.

The cave was dark and gloomy, damp and cold. It was not a home, though several enigmas and mysteries found it as such. Barely looking behind him to the man who sat upon the weirwood throne, Bran sighed.

"Why are you trying to stop me from seeing him?"

Bran asked, turning to the old man, the old man with one eye in a thousand.