Follow the Ravens
Jonlifts up his lantern, peering up at the shadowy dark canopy of the twining tree tops. The moonlight was barely peeking through, streaking random strips of light, as the two students trek on through the twisting, wooded path.
The two of them had been talking casually since parting ways with the others. Mostly to distract each other from the unknown darkness lurking around them. Only the occasional snap of a tree branch would startle them out of their bland herbology conversation and remind Jon the severity of the situation.
He thinks back to one of the first rumors he heard about Daenerys.
"Dany," Jon begins hesitantly. "So, uhm... is it true that you have a real,” he clears his throat, “—dragon in here?"
Dany glances down thoughtfully. "Well, I did..." she responds stoically. "But uhm, not anymore..." She looks straight ahead, her expression rigidly hiding her emotions. Jon eyes back at her casually.
”Oh, well you—“
"—Drogon is mine and has been trained by professionals. He's not dangerous," she glances back at him briefly in defense.
"I didn't say he was..." he narrows his eyes to study her expression. "But okay... so where did he go, then?"
Dany purses her lips in thought, deliberately snap-stepping on twigs, as they continue following the ambiguous path. Lady prancing cautiously close behind her.
"Well... I don't know exactly," she finally sighs out. "He's never run away before. But... he'll come back to me, I know it."
"How long have you had him?"
"He hatched when I was nine— See, my father, he left me the egg when I was a baby... before he was sentenced to Azkaban," she watches his reaction carefully.
Understanding her position, he shrugs back innocently, "Okay. Well I'm not going to judge you on your father..." His cheeks carefully spread into a small smile, lightly trying to lift the mood, "I'm more interested in how on earth, a sixth year girl, has managed to control and keep a fully-grown, pet dragon."
"Girl? So you believe only men can be dragons, then?" She ogles him in a huff, slightly smirking.
”No...” he holds back a smirk too, “Just that I don’t know many sixth year girls or boys that can do that.”
"Well yes, but I’m not so in control anymore... so it's not too impressive."
"Yeah, tons of people have handled dragons for so much longer." He mumbles cheekily. “Even girls I’ve heard.”
She rolls her eyes, "Technically, you're right... I'm sure you've heard about my family, Jon Snow, and what we can do?"
"Uh, no... not really,” he stops to think. “I wouldn’t exactly count Tormund's inside sources to be all that reliable..."
Surprised, she nods back, oddly seeming a little more relaxed by his response. "Hmm... yes— probably not. Though, I've lost interest in caring what everyone else says about me, really."
"I can understand that perspective quite well actually," he says flatly.
They walk in silence for a little bit, and he watches her subtly, as her face twisted rigidly, in deep thought. Until the jarring sound—
“SCREEEEECHHHHHHH
Eeekkk C—CAWWWW” pierces their ears in a squawking overlay of demonic raven cries.
All the sudden, they both flinch hard upon a flock of blackbirds darting down, flying right past them, swooping over top of their heads.
—Wow, that one was fucking close to his bloody head?
They hold cautiously still.
Jon remained frozen for another moment until the birds were gone. Dany was already in motion.
She slows her steps in thought.
"Wait." She says, staring off in the direction the birds went, "They,” she points, “could probably lead us straight to the rotting meat, right? If they're... scavenging like Clegane said?"
“What, the birds?” He sniffs, pulling up his scarf over his nose. "Yeah, probably."
...He didn’t like where this was going.
•
They’ve been following the birds for a good twenty five minutes now, and Jon quietly trumps behind Dany with the lantern, as Lady tramples along by his side, sloshing through an icy puddle.
He takes another thoughtful breath, deciding to break the silence again. "Who looked after you, when your father... went away?"
She hesitates slightly in her small strides, and then turns around, giving him a bewildered look.
"Sorry—" He sputters, "I didn't mean to— you know, I don't know..." His eyes widen at himself, "I'm just curious about the whole dragon situation I guess, wondering if you just like— well, did you live with your mother?"
Fuck. What was he doing...
She turns back around with solid composure, continuing along the winding path, "No, actually my mother died giving birth to me..." she glances back at him swiftly, as if to make sure that he knew she wasn’t offended. "It's okay though, I wasn't totally alone. I had my uncle Illyrio... well, not my real uncle.” She smiles to herself, “He was the closest thing I had to a real father.” Her smile grew cold, “He took care of me... until I could take care of myself."
"Wow." Jon stares back at her, unsure of what to say, and then eventually murmurs out, "...I'm sorry... I didn't know."
She waves him off flatly, "I said it's fine, ...really," she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear under her hood. Then turns back towards him smugly, "All right, now it's my turn."
He squints at her at first, honestly confused.
"Your turn... for what?" then upon realizing, he smiles sheepishly, "Oh... You mean, your turn to ask me a really personal question, and then feel really bad about it afterwards?"
She actually laughs out loud at him, warmly suggesting, "Yes, exactly—" and it's honestly the first time he thinks he's ever seen her react so sincere.
A different Dany... in stark contrast to the intimidating one she pretends to be so often. When everyone was watching.
She scrunches her nose up at the nearing smell, "I think we're getting closer..."
Jon nodded. He definitely agreed he smelled something. She turns back to him, "So, my question is... did you actually live in the muggle world? And go to a muggle school, until you turned eleven? Did you know about magic, before that?"
That was more than one question, but he’d let it go.
“Uhm...” He actually raises his brows high at the thought of an unexpected, bittersweet memory. "Uh yeah, I lived with my muggle family. Well, no I mean, not my real muggle parents, because uh, they died when I was a baby, so I don't really remember them either.” He twists his mouth to the side, “But the muggle folks that took me in, were actually my parents friends..." then he rolls his eyes, "Not the friendliest of people... But they took care of me."
"And they didn't know about magic until you got your letter, right?"
Jon looks out up ahead of them, then remarks huskily, "Actually, no. They did know about magic, they were just waiting... I guess."
He smirks at her, "I think they knew how I would react..." he shakes his head recalling it, "I wasn't exactly accepting of it all at first.” He chuckles bleakly, “Especially when I found out that's what killed my parents."
”Oh— they were...” she trails off, “I’m sorry... by magic?”
”Yes.” He closes his eyes for a moment, “By you-know-who.” But she seemed to have already known before he said it.
“Oh... I’m so sorry.” She half-hides her face in her scarf from the wind.
Jon shrugs sadly, “It’s all right. It was just a lot to take in when I found out.”
“That must've been quite a terrible shock." She huffs. "I can't even imagine... not knowing about magic, in addition to— well..."
"No, well, you know," he waves the attention off of him, "That's just discovering the truth about regular magic... That's nothing really, compared to the things your family can do." He raises his brows in disbelief, "I can't imagine finding out about all that and you know, all the abilities that get passed down."
Dany looks over his face, like she were judging whether or not he was trying to be insulting. "Yes— I guess..." she steps over an ice puddle, cracking it. "I think it was more gradual. Like I just grew up knowing about my family's blood line, and how they've been able to do some pretty extraordinary things." Then her expression hardens, "I do remember though, specifically when I found out that it also comes at a terrible price. I was eight."
"What do you mean at a price?"
"You know..." Dany makes a wincing face, ashamed, "How we're known to... dangerously lose our temper from time to time. And then, even better, how we're almost always expected to lose our sanity, as we get older..." She shrugs a smile without any sincerity reaching her eyes. "It's so wonderful, having that to look forward to."
Jon watches her carefully, his expression unawaringly trying to comfort her. He tries to redirect the conversation. "Would you mind telling me, what kind of extraordinary things they could do, though... Again, I don't trust Tormund." He half chuckles awkwardly, noticing the warm air of his breath freezing mid-air, "What about you? What can you do already?”
She smirks back, "Are you asking me if I'm a true dragon or not? Because if you are, I'm afraid I don't even know the answer to that, myself." She checks back at Lady quickly, to make sure she was still following them. "I think I might be though. I mean, I don't think fire hurts me, like it does to everyone else... Although, I haven't actually had the pleasure of being burned alive, to test it."
"Well, that's always a good thing," Jon chuckles. "Any other talents?"
She takes the lantern from him, "Well," she squints ahead into the fog, lifting up the light. "I'm a parselmouth... like all of my ancestors were, as well. So that's how I can sometimes... communicate with Drogon."
"Really?" Jon arches a brow at her in awe. "You can talk to snakes anddragons? That’s— Uhm, wow..." he tries to hide his grin, looking the other way. "Talking to dragons... must be some interesting conversations."
She laughs back again, "Excuse me—" she stifles another giggle with her glove. "I'll have you know, our conversations are more intellectually stimulating than with most people around here, to be honest."
"Seriously? Like what—" he contorts his face in disbelief.
She quickly shakes her head, "—No, I'm kidding. Uhm, it's either him telling me he's hungry or complaining about 'the mean, giant man' being late with his food." She laughs louder, "Oh Merlin, he hates Clegane so much. It's quite funny..."
"Oh yeah...” He smirks at her cheekily. “And it must feel amazing too," he peers back at her again, almost teasing, "...to be so extraordinary unlike the rest of us."
She scoffs at him, close enough to lightly smack his fur coat with the back of her hand, "Excuse me, but from what I've heard, it doesn't seem like you're so ordinarily average yourself?"
"Oh, really?" he leans into the warmth of her cloak, "And what have you heard?"
"Well, there's your Quidditch fame, your defense against the dark art skills, the white walkers..." she stops walking to look at him fully, "—and ...cheating death?"
Jon smiles back shyly, blatantly ignoring that last bit, "Oh, so you have heard about my great skills, stalker—"
A sudden, crack- snapping sound of an enormous tree collapsing up ahead of them, scares them both silent with a loud, thud.
Woah. He actually felt the ground shake.
The tree creaks over, leaning roughly unstable against another branch, as a gust of wind sings loud, blowing through, nearly knocking them over.
Shit. It was fucking cold.
Jon suddenly coughs out, choking tearfully at the now impossibly growing strong odor.
WHAT in seven’s hell is that smell—
"Oh my god... that's horrible," Dany chokes, covering her hand over her nose.
"Oh no."
She skips up ahead sadly, as he runs over to it as well. The both of them, now approaching the gory, awful scene laid out before them.
Multiple, mangled dead centaur bodies lay together, all arranged in a strange circular symbol.
Dany examines them closely, as they lay lifeless on the ground, and then heaves in a breath, gagging out to the side from the smell. She looks back at Jon hopelessly, emulating her intense sorrow for them.
Lady squeals at the bodies when she finally realized the situation, backing up in fear, and Dany coughs out again from the smell. "What hap-pened to them? Who would do something- like this?" She pulls out her wand. "No animal could arrange them like that, right?"
Then her expression falls, and she guesses, whispering coldly, "Do you think it was the same creature that took..." she stands up, walking away, "Ugh, oh no Bran..."
Before she could start panicking more, Jon thinks to distract her, promising with a task. "Hey listen, okay, calm down." He walks up behind her. "Let's hurry, and do this quick, and then maybe... we can look around for him?"
"Okay..." He moves swiftly ahead of her, pulling out his wand, but in a huff, she beats him to it.
"Incendio," she swishes her wand intensely, directing a spellbound, fire-blazing channel of flames, out over the bloodied, ripped open bodies.
They watch sadly, as the crackling bodies char and hiss in the glowing, white and blue-orange flames. Jon covers his nose and mouth from the blowing heat.
They stare at the fire for a minute or two, watching it grow.
But they only watch for just long enough, until they both agree that the bodies were burned well.
"I'll put it out," Jon says softly.
He moves ahead of her to cast the water spell, when suddenly, a fast diving bird squawks at him, pecking his hand sharply, "—Ah!!" he shouts at it, flinging the crow off of him.
Dany rushes to him, grabbing his hand to inspect the pecked wound. "Are you all right?" She pulls her hand back from his knuckle where the gash began to leak warm blood. “—Goodness. That was strange?”
He was bleeding. But all he could bloody think about the weird feeling he felt after she touched his hand. He knew his skin was numb, but there was a strange sensation lingering where she touched, and he could tell she had felt it too, because she had dropped his hand, just as fast as she took it.
She huffs proudly, jumping across him to perform the charm herself, "Aguamen—"
In a flash, another crow bites, attacking her too, as she shrieks out, "Ahh! What’s—" she sucks the wound to her mouth. "God, what's wrong with them!?"
"I don't know," Jon cries back, "They're birds, do you know how speak to them?"
More crows begin to fly down over from behind them— now in a daring pack of about twenty.
They swoop down fast, suddenly chasing the two Gryffindors suddenly in the other direction.
"This way!" Dany calls out over the ear-piercing, bird-cawing noise. "We'll follow them!"
Jon scoffs back loudly, skid-stopping in his tracks, "Follow them? We've got to put out the bloody fire!" He runs behind her towards an open path of frozen ground, through a row of jagged trees.
He flips around, still running, angling up at the diving creatures, "Stupify!"
A few fall motionless to the ground, as the rest of the swarm seems to multiply, diving in faster after them.
Come on!
“Wait—“ Jon swiftly pulls an uncooperative Dany by her arm, “hide— here—“ swoop-hugging her back against himself, falling back into a hollowed tree.
The birds flit past them in a fast, shadowy blur. She cups her glove over her mouth, trying to control her jagged breaths.
"Shhh—" he says, right behind her, bracing her own arms against her heaving chest, holding her. He pants silently with her, catching his breath...
Okay. They were gone? It seemed so.
There's a long silence after that. A short, uneven silence. Wait—
"Don't move yet," he exhales, still behind her, this time his warm breath brushed her neck, and she huffed hotly in frustration. “Let me—“
"I want to see,” she whispers fast, “Look, they’re gone, let me go—" she ducks out of from underneath his arm, but then freezes, upon gaping at the sudden sight before them.
Holy fucking crow.
The birds had all slowed to a mid-air standstill, eerily turning back around in unison, facing back towards Jon and her.
Floating, watching them...
What the fuck was going on?
Dany gasps in fear, but then, upon hearing a faint cry for help in the misted, foggy distance, Jon feels a flash of hope.
"Jon," she tugs him along, whispering, "Someone just called my name!" She cries, yelling over the screeching of now intensifying caws, "I told you, the birds— they want us to follow them! Maybe it's Bran!"
What? How does that—
"Dany!" She had already took off, swinging her lantern as she ran.
“Hey!” Running, he catches up alongside her, now with Lady close behind, and argues, "What if it's not?! What if it's a trap?" He pants roughly, "We need to put out the fire!"
The voice calls again, this time more audibly, as they continue running towards it.
"Dany, I'm righthere."
That doesn't sound like a little boy...
"Dany." It calls out clearer, then even more distinctly, "Follow the ravens!"
Jon bites his tongue, as Dany starts running faster, sprinting deeper into the woods.
"Daenerys!” He called breathlessly, “Slow down. Let's just think, for a minute," he shouts for her, glancing back nervously at the now raging, growing fire behind them.
The voice shouts again, "Dany, I'm here!" And now, he was beginning to sound... like he was in pain. Serious pain. "Quick-ly, I'm in here. I'm stuck."
Lady pounces behind in whizzing blur, following Jon, as he chases Dany... as she chases the birds, that were indefinitely chasing the voice back to "Bran".
This was so not a good idea.
"Dany, slow down, just wait—"
"Here!" She shouts, finally slowing down up ahead, as the birds disperse loudly. "He's here," she scans around the environment frantically.
Jon slows down his jog, now stopping next to her, approaching the scene with a new caution.
"Bran?! Is that you, Bran?" she yells for him desperately, "Where are you?"
A short distance away from them, seven or eight ravens flutter down from above, gravely landing to rest in the snow-dusted branches of a giant, ancient white oak tree. It’s markings oddly forming an unsettling “face”.
That's the biggest tree, Jon was certain, that he had ever seen.
Dany squints into the darkness with her lantern, able to now see a pair of small feet, splayed halfway out from the hallowed-hole of the white oak.
But there's no voice calling her anymore...
She flits over, recognizing him, as he lays there still— but both her and Jon stop in fear, upon seeing him motionless, and in a rather peculiar physical state.
Shit. What’s wrong with him? His eyes?
The whites of the boy's bright-milky eyes, were glowing opaque in the pale moonlight. His gaze, blindly staring out into the shadowed woods— was hauntingly fixating his vision up, backwards into his skull.
Dany rushes over, shaking him, "Bran? Hey, come on. Wake up, we're taking you back now, it's okay."
But he remains laying still. His eyes stayed rolled into his head in a demonic state of paralysis.
She snaps back around to Jon with worry, "He's freezing. Feel him, he's ice cold—" then she flinches back, as Bran's eyes suddenly flicker open, looking back at the both of them with chilling exhaustion.
Jon suddenly feels a strong icy current flow through this veins. And he knows it’s not from the air.
"You can put out the fire now," Bran says grimly. "...They can't come back now."
•
"You stay here with him, and I'll run back to put it out," Dany says, motioning for Lady to follow her.
"No," Jon shakes his head, "No wait, he can't walk. So—” He angles himself around, behind Bran, struggling to carefully lift him up. "I'll carry him, then follow behind you." He readjusts Bran, grunting, "Okay? Let's go now."
Dany sprints ahead, as Lady trots roughly behind her. And Jon runs as strong as he can, close on their trail, holding Bran protectively over his back.
Suddenly Bran speaks up near Jon’s ear, murmuring dryly, "Jon Snow. Did Aemon get back safely?"
Jon squints at him confused. ...Who?
He pants heavily, breathing out, "Who's— Aemon?"
“He’s...” Bran sighs in sad frustration. "The black-haired centaur. He hid me from the walking dead... after I fell."
Jon exhales coolly, "It's okay, Bran. We're almost back now, you're safe."
He can see the smoke fire now, being slowly extinguished up ahead, as Dany stands there fiercely, pointing out a strong, fast jet of water, a hissing force from the tip of her wand.
It seemed as if she was almost within the fire, she was so close to it. The sight of it made his stomach churn.
Bran mumbles softly, holding onto Jon's fur coat, "He was my friend. He didn't make it did he? They got his whole pack, didn’t they?"
Jon huffs in response, now coming up to the passing sight of charred bodies.
He doesn't answer Bran— too focused on pushing through the dull, burning pain in his leg muscles, the cool sting in his lungs, as he continues running, now with Dany and Lady at his side.
Dany furrows her brows, turning to Bran, "Who did this, Bran? What happened?"
“It was them.” He whispers in a low breath, "The dead knights... the walking ice men. Those bodies needed to burn."
•
Sandor Clegane spots them and waves his arms, scolding loudly from up ahead. "Where the bloody hell were you two?! I said to—" he stops himself, now making out sight of the extra body, slouched lazily over Jon's shoulders.
”Holy fucking shit—“
Jon could see the bit of light coming from the outside safety of the forest, as he continued following in the direction of Clegane's voice.
"Dear god. What happened here?" the gamekeeper snorts at them in chastising awe, while they pant excessively, slowing to the near edge of the forest.
"How did you manage to— You've found the Stark boy?" he barks in disbelief.
Dany processes that for a moment, "Wait a minute—" she pauses, then suddenly, she lashes out in uncontrollable anger, "You knew he was out there? And you sent us in there, anyway?!"
Jon would have rolled his eyes at her hypocrisy if he didn’t wholeheartedly agree with her.
"Aye, of course I knew about him," he shakes his head at the ridiculousness of not. "We had the bloody troops searching for him all goddamn day and night? You two were perfectly safe."
"Well, those troops are dead!" Dany yells. "And you knew perfectly well that that rotting meat could have been Bran?"
"Little bird, take a breath..." he scowls back at her, explaining, "You don't think we'd really let anyone go back in there, let alone— students, if we weren't positive that that creature," he points back out into the forest, "—that ripped apart, those very troops was absolutely gone, now did ya?"
Dany narrows her dark brows. "So you knew it was the centaurs."
"Nothing gets past you, does it? This isn’t confidential business." He turns around to Podrick, "Boy. Go to the Infirmary and tell them we're coming straight away."
"Well. Did you know how their bodies were arranged in a symbol?" Dany protests, as Jon rests in exhaustion, carefully dropping Bran to lay him down on the ground against a tree.
"No... I didn't." Clegane's eyes then widen slightly, watching Bran struggle to prop himself up on his elbows. "Hold on. Can he not... walk?" he stammers out. "What happened to you, Stark?"
Bran narrows his eyes at him with obvious disdain. "No... I cannot walk. I can't even feel my legs." He explains hoarsely, "And I saw them all. The creatures... not creature..." he emphasizes the plurality, correcting him flatly. "In they came, walking slow and steady... a group of dead men.”
Clegane chortles, “A what?”
”Walking. Dead. Men.” Bran sneers, “So I ran and tried to hide, by climbing a tree. But then their leader..." he pauses, biting his lip, "he saw me... up there.”
”A dead leader, was it?” Clegane barks, “Like You-Know-Who?” He snorts, wiping a strand of hair that caught in his eye— “Tell me. What did he look like?”
Bran ignored his patronizing tone. “He had silver hair— with a crown of ice. One eye bright blue, the other one, purple. And then, he made mefall—"
"Made you fall?” Dany blurts out in concern, “How high was the tree?—“
”High.” Bran sniffs gravely, “...I barely remember falling.”
“Arrite, boy, that's enough... Just relax, you're safe now," Clegane mumbles, now eyeing Dany and Jon, "And are you two, all right?"
They both nod stubbornly, as Bran continues on ranting, "I'm only back here safe, thanks to them.”
He glares at him. “We're all back here safe, thanks to Aemon..." He bites coldly, "Even though, every single one of them was slaughtered for it..." he whispers lowly, "... with your help."
Clegane scoffs in exasperation. "Myhelp?"
"Yes." Bran nods back coolly, accusing him, "I sent you signs that the centaurs needed help... but you wouldn't have noticed that if it bit you on the nose." He chuckles lightly, "Oh right, they did bite you a few times didn’t they?"
"Bran— what?" Dany hushes at his boldness, as Sandor Clegane chuckles out loud.
"Signs? What bloody signs did you send me?"
"The ravens," the small boy huffs behind a stony glare.
Sandor scratches his greasy head, "I didn't exactly see any parchment attached to them? They just kept on bloody biting me, bothering me all goddamn day."
"Exactly...” he voices grimly, “I made them do that.”
What?
"Oh, you made them do that, did ya? Are you a bird whisperer, now?" Clegane mocks, stepping over to him, "You might as well get your head checked later... just in case."
Bran shuts his eyes in frustration. “You don’t understand.”
Clegane bends down, suddenly throw-heaving the boy roughly over his back, "Come on now little Stark, you'll be arrite." He grunts haughtily for Jon and Dany to follow, "Your father'll be waitin' for ya."