Bloodraven awoke from a dream.
Heh~
He exhaled a deep breath of stale air, the sound echoing through the cave, betraying the faint weakness of a man at death's door.
He hadn't experienced a green dream in a very long time.
As is widely known, greenseers and those blessed with certain powerful gifts possess the green sight, allowing them glimpses of metaphors and symbols that foreshadow what is yet to come.
Though the meaning of such dreams often remains obscure at first, the unfolding of events inevitably confirms their truth.
This particular dream proved as bewildering as any.
He had dreamed of being trapped within countless pillars of flame. The fires twisted and danced, transforming into the shapes of wolves, stags, lions, fish, and other creatures. All were filled with righteous fury, all condemned his schemes and calculations with wordless accusation.
What could it mean?
Bloodraven's heart filled with disquiet. Such omens boded ill indeed. Could he have dreamed of his own demise?
If that were so, a greenseer who had witnessed the intricate tapestry of the world should accept his fate with dignity.
Bloodraven was not such a man.
He resolved to salvage what he could from the impending calamity. He had expended too much of his dwindling energy on matters at the Wall of late. Something must have transpired in the south. He must cast his gaze southward.
He surrendered himself wholly to the weirwood tree beneath him, plunging into the boundless dark earth and its network of pale roots. His vision leapt between the godswoods of distant castles, listening to the whispers and prayers offered beneath heart trees.
The heart tree of Winterfell had heard the troubles of Robb Stark and many others. The usurper and the treacherous Quiet Wolf remained on the road; the North could be considered peaceful.
But since a sennight past, the heart tree had grown utterly solitary. No one approached it anymore. Why?
The heart tree of Riverrun witnessed ravens arriving from the north, then similarly lost its petitioners and worshippers. Someone had even approached it bearing an axe.
The heart tree of the Red Keep welcomed many melancholy attendants and courtiers.
They whispered their discontent regarding the new Castellan in the godswood, exchanging hushed opinions on the two Small Council members who had fallen from grace.
They still asked among themselves: Is that Bloodraven still alive?
Bloodraven's consciousness quivered.
I'm exposed?! Did the captured singer reveal me to the usurper's son?
Bloodraven worked with greater determination to examine the memories of the heart trees. From south to north, from grand castles to lonely wilderness.
Finally, before a weirwood in a Riverlands forest—one that lacked even a carved face—he heard that person's whisper.
Joffrey Baratheon.
"Weirwood, oh weirwood, you can hear me, can you not?"
The boy looked directly ahead, as if conversing face-to-face with Bloodraven himself.
"I pray we might reach Father in time. I hope Bloodraven's attack comes later, that Father and the others might be spared harm."
Bloodraven felt a dark premonition creep over him.
"What manner of beasts will Bloodraven employ in his assault? The creatures of the Riverlands could never threaten a warrior like my father. He must have schemed at length to select adversaries worthy of the challenge."
"Yet he could never have anticipated that his conspiracy has already been laid bare."
Bloodraven comprehended Joffrey's sinister intent. How vicious! Moreover, this fledgling can also control beasts?
"Winterfell and Riverrun have become aware of the eyes hidden within the godswoods. They know of Bloodraven's malice toward the King and Lord Eddard, his loathing for the current Seven Kingdoms. He can no longer spy upon the realm with impunity."
So that's how matters stand.
"Bloodraven's plot against the Red Keep is beyond prevention, but hope remains for Father's party."
The changes in the Red Keep were this aberration's doing!
"Unless Bloodraven observes Father's every move, striking before the messenger arrives... I pray he has not done so."
Bloodraven calculated the timing. Robert was likely already dead.
Bloodraven understood at last. The flames in his dream symbolized the wrath of the south, now directed at him.
Could such baseless accusations still be refuted?
Bloodraven harbored little hope. His years at court had yielded many bitter lessons. How could an outsider prove his innocence to a hostile world? Even if he were to cut open his belly and present his heart, it would count for naught.
Moreover, those three singers had already made their way south.
Their existence and every word they uttered served as powerful indictments against him—evidence impossible to refute.
"Bloodraven is truly a formidable enemy."
Compared to this rising aberration, he—trapped in the Haunted Forest—possessed scarce power to resist.
Several confrontations, both direct and indirect, had ended in failure.
Expose information unfavorable to this upstart to the lords of the south? His own reputation had already suffered grievous damage. The effect was uncertain, but he himself would likely be eliminated before his message could take root.
Mutual destruction now represented the best possible outcome.
"Wise elder of the Children of the Forest, greenseer beyond the Wall, I implore you—remove the malevolent Bloodraven with all haste."
Bloodraven could not help but be stunned by the audacity.
"When this is done, the people of the Seven Kingdoms will rejoice, and you shall become the throne's most valued ally."
"The gods have granted me unimaginable divine power, bidding me establish a paradise on earth. I am prepared to share this glory with you. The power of life, resurrection, light, and redemption—all these might be yours."
"Consider my words carefully. I must continue my journey. Farewell."
Bloodraven withdrew from the weirwood network.
The cave remained dark and silent, as if nothing had changed. A fitting place for the dead to rest; living things were the true anomalies here.
He murmured to himself, "Who am I?"
A singer happened to enter the cave bearing food. "You are the last greenseer."
Countless images flooded Bloodraven's mind.
The fair heart-shaped face of his beloved, her long silver hair, her bewitching eyes—one blue, one green—her smooth back.
Bittersteel's grim and wrathful countenance, his irritating personal sigil, his delusions and wild ravings about Shiera.
And his gentle, kind half-brother, and the Blackfyre Rebellion for which he fought.
He had ordered archers to cut down Daemon Blackfyre and his two sons, and more blurred figures danced before his vision.
They all beckoned to him, then turned away, gradually dissipating into nothingness.
The greenseer sighed. "Yes, I can scarcely recall it now. I am the last greenseer."
Aberration, what are your intentions? What game do you play?
Joffrey was communicating with the Red Keep. Hanna and the Hound reported the specific outcomes of the past two days.
"Congratulations, Your Majesty—"
Joffrey interrupted Hanna, relaying a message. "It is premature. The King lives and thrives. I remain merely the Crown Prince."
"Forgive me, Your Highness."
Hanna swiftly amended her words. "Thanks to His Grace's attention, and Your Highness's blessing.
At present, we have assumed control of a thousand little birds formerly in Varys's employ, and have purged more than three hundred rebels who refused to yield.
We have seized sixty-two brothels and upward of two hundred taverns and other establishments from Littlefinger's grasp. The heads of the treasury, the mint, and the harbor have all pledged fealty to the crown, and most merchants within the city operate as usual, save for a few malcontents."
Joffrey expressed satisfaction. "It is well that matters remain quiet. Avoid causing panic; King's Landing cannot fall into chaos."
Hanna spoke with confidence. "Thanks to His Grace's clemency in pardoning these subjects' transgressions, they naturally refuse to champion the cause of traitors."
The Hound inquired, "What fate awaits Varys and Littlefinger?"
Joffrey still wished to extract further advantage. "Remove their limbs and geld Littlefinger. Demonstrate to them the power of magic. Inform them that only through obedience and proving their value might they be restored to wholeness."
The Hound could not suppress a shiver.
"You need only maintain stability within the Red Keep and King's Landing. It won't be long." Joffrey's eyes grew distant. "Soon. By tomorrow I shall reunite with Father and the others."
Will I truly be able to weep then?
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