Chapter 24 The Lord of the Ravens

Lady Maege Mormont gazed at the fleet in the distance. It was a fleet of small longships. She thought nothing was more fitting for the ironborn, those miserable pirates who had ravaged the shores of her lands for so long. They were the greatest threat she had faced in her youth, in her middle age, and now in her old age. But now, looking at them from a smoky ship, her heart burned with fire and spat iron. She felt somewhat small even to think that until recently, these poor wretched beggars could be considered a threat.

"Fire!" Lady Maege Mormont shouted, with all the anger, hatred, and disgust these remnants of human beings provoked in her, inferior even to rats.

The ship and the world itself trembled with the successive shots of ten cannons, operated by a crew of Braavosi and men from Lord Manderly. During her journey to the Iron Islands, Lady Maege had been instructed by these sailors on the use of these weapons, and she had also witnessed some demonstrations against the coastal rocks.

Now, listening to the roar of the cannons, Lady Maege Mormont felt as if the anger of the north and the blood shed by all those killed by these miserable rats roared and screamed with her, as the pirate ships turned into splinters…

A raven cawed, and Lady Maege Mormont's thoughts were interrupted. She looked to the ship's railing, where the Young Raven stood. The Young Raven shared her anger and hatred, but Lady Maege could not see it, and she even felt dissatisfaction at the sight of the raven cawing. These birds were foreigners in Lady Maege Mormont's opinion. The ravens were already in the north when the First Men arrived, but Lady Maege thought a traitor was a stranger and, therefore, a foreigner.

Ravens had always been servants of the southerners and the maesters, so in her eyes, they were foreign bastards who couldn't be trusted. Although they worked for her former lord, Lady Maege treated them like any other mercenary and limited her dealings with them to a commercial exchange of bread for work, giving them a smack and spitting at their feet when their greed overcame them and they tried to raid the bread. That's how mercenaries should be treated, and these ravens would get nothing more from her than their fair wage.

Lady Maege Mormont, like all other human beings in this world, with a few exceptions, could not see through the illusion of reality that clouded her eyes. Besides not having a third eye, she already had trouble with her two eyes; looking at things that were obvious even when submerged in the illusion of reality was difficult for her. Asking her to look at the Young Raven was an impossibility. Asking her to look beyond the Young Raven was beyond impossible for her, and any mortal.

Still, if Lady Maege Mormont could see, she wouldn't like what she saw either, for the Young Raven was not a pleasant sight. With one eye as black as eternity and the other as blue as a star emitting a cold blue mist, like the wake of a fragment of the coldest piece of ice drifting through the infinite void of worlds, giving it an ethereal sensation. Beyond that, his ambition and greed had led him to be drenched in the blood of others, and now this blood stained his wings, overflowing with stolen vitality through the sacrifice of hundreds of lives. No, Lady Maege Mormont wouldn't like to see his true appearance.

The raven looked Lady Maege up and down, and she returned the gaze with a furrowed brow of threat.

"Raven, this is not a jester's spectacle, you will not receive alms for performing tricks," Lady Maege growled and spat towards where the raven was.

Lady Maege was a great spitter, with decades of practice spitting every sworn curse, and her spittle traveled distances of over three meters. Even with the wind blowing, it landed right at the feet of the ship's railing where the Young Raven watched the destruction of his hated enemies.

The Young Raven, who had a personal grudge against spitters, who provoked in him a strange sensation of wanting to grab them by the head and make them lick the spit they had spat, tilted his head to confirm that indeed, they had spat at his feet. It was a particularly unpleasant spit because Lady Maege had been chewing grass for a slight toothache. The Young Raven raised his head, and his supernatural eyes looked at Lady Maege, while every feather of his bloodied plumage bristled.

The Young Raven insulted Lady Maege Mormont, stating that he would have one of her eyes if she spat at his feet again, and cursing her terrible manners, while his body trembled with indignation, making him hop around. But Lady Maege Mormont had no magic or third eye, so she only saw the Young Raven in her illusion of reality, fluffed up, hopping around, cackling, and squawking. His fury reached her, but It was no different from the fury of a brooding hen, so Lady Maege Mormont merely rolled her eyes and stepped forward to tread on her own spit with her foot, turning it into a wet stain.

"Shut up, raven. I've only spat once in a week, you're too noisy. Go bother someone else," Lady Maege Mormont said and returned her attention to the battle. Although to her eyes the Young Raven was nothing more than a squawking hen, on a subconscious level she could still perceive the anger of her former lord, so she resumed her task while the Young Raven continued to promise her dire consequences if she continued spitting.

Beyond, away from the Young Raven, his fury, anger, and the blood staining his wings, a flock of bloodied souls and messengers of death, which were more ravens, watched Lady Maege Mormont in disbelief, because she dared to provoke such an existence. These ravens, in every battle, had witnessed sacrifice, collected blood, written the pact, and treasured life. But even these ravens who could see, could not see beyond the existence in front of them, and their vision of such existence did not mean they saw beyond ignorance, for to those who could see, imagining the darkness of a life of blindness was too difficult. They did not understand that Lady Maege Mormont, like all humans, was blind, not brave.

"It seems the rest of our fleet will be mere ornaments," Prince Oberyn Martell said, approaching Lady Mormont, while glancing sideways at the Young Raven, who had redirected his anger from Lady Maege and was now focusing on the remnants of the Iron Fleet, which after two volleys of shots, had become floating splinters and remnants sinking with strange whistles.

Lady Maege and the Young Raven did not look at Prince Oberyn. Lady Maege Mormont disliked the Martells; they were cowards who dared not fight for their own family. She would not expect any voluntary support from them under any circumstances. The Young Raven was also uninterested in the Martells and did not look at those who did not interest him.

Prince Oberyn felt the disdain of both raven and woman, but he smiled inwardly, for few dared to scorn him, and it was a strange feeling rarely encountered. So, he looked at the Young Raven, who made him feel a strange sense of caution.

Prince Oberyn possessed no magic, but he was a man who did not dismiss any knowledge, and in his quest through the Free Cities, on more than one occasion he had encountered blood magic and even used it for minor tasks, whether for his own pleasure or to cause pain to his enemies.

Prince Oberyn had managed to lift the veil from his eyes a little, but the illusion of reality would not be lifted without a third eye, no matter how much blood magic he could practice…

Beyond the illusion of reality, there were existences that, in exchange for sacrifices, were willing to lend their eyes, but borrowing the eyes of such existences would also lead you to know their minds, which would drive those who had always been blind to the madness of seeing beyond the illusion in which they lived.

Prince Oberyn knew of these existences, but despite his apparent carelessness, he was always cautious, for he had seen the consequences of approaching the unknown. So, after looking at the Young Raven for a second, he turned his attention back to Lady Maege Mormont.

Prince Oberyn's attempt to engage in conversation had borne no fruit, and his interlocutor had even ignored him, but that did not concern him, for his tongue enjoyed talents in all areas, and there was no man or woman capable of resisting his words… At least those who interested him. He did not waste his time with everyone; every moment of his existence was a gift to enjoy, whether feeling pleasure or inflicting pain on his enemies.

"Lady Maege, my brother Doran Martell sends his regards," Prince Oberyn said and smiled when Lady Maege could no longer ignore him due to the courtesy of the nobles.

Prince Oberyn also knew how to flatter people. Some would say that only a woman could be more charming, but he disagreed with that assertion, and he was about to prove it to this woman. Although it was not a matter of ego or pride, but of his duty as a prince and a favor to his brother and his nephew Tristan Martell, whom he planned to find a wife for.

The wife Oberyn sought for his nephew was Lady Maege's daughter, whom Stannis had given a few years to produce a legitimate heir or her family would lose the right to rule over the Iron Islands.

Oberyn and his brother Doran cared little for Stannis's rules and the lords of the Seven Kingdoms. Dorne had its own rules, and what interested them was that Lady Maege had been sent here by the Winter Wolf, and by the gold he offered for these islands, it was clear that in the future, gold would rain from the sky in this place. On the other hand, the Thorned Rose was already lurking by sending her son to this place. They did not want Lady Maege's daughter to end up in Highgarden betrothed to their heir. For all these reasons, Oberyn planned to take the lead while the Thorned Rose saw it more important to travel to Winterfell.

The Young Raven, who watched as the lords circled like vultures around Lady Maege, croaked in disdain. He had already secured the prey and would not let the southerners gain more influence than necessary in the islands, because these were truly a valuable resource, with their mines of iron, lead, and tin. The fishing resources and the location itself made it a strategic site that had the Seven Kingdoms on guard, and it would be the ideal place for the most sensitive and secret constructions.

The Young Raven had only wanted to avoid a war when he sent the young northerners with Daenerys Targaryen, but it turned out he had also secured a valuable strategic resource.

The young Raven croaked in disdain again because, so far, no one could even imagine any of his plans. Although Braavos was already seeking iron and other metals, especially copper, everywhere, those who owned mines would soon become very rich. But it didn't matter; while they sought iron and copper, the Young Raven sought oil. He had little knowledge about hydrocarbons, but he could manage better than any of these peasants. There was also electricity and telegraphs. All were things he knew about superficially, but knowing about them put him in an advantageous position…

The Young Raven shook his head. Sometimes greed got the better of him, and he would spend hours making plans when he was already very rich and the future of the North and his family was already secured. These were things to plan in his spare time, although now that he had ceased to be a Lord, he would have plenty of free time.

After the battle, the allied fleet, led by Lady Maege Mormont, advanced towards the islands, each of them:

Great Wyk: settlement of Houses Merlyn, Goodbrother, Sparr, and Farwynd. Old Wyk: settlement of Houses Stonehouse, Goodbrother, and Drumm. Harlaw: settlement of Houses Harlaw, Volmark, Stonetree, and Kenning. Orkmont: settlement of Houses Tawney and Orkwood. Saltcliffe: settlement of Houses Saltcliffe and Sunderly. Blacktyde: settlement of House Blacktyde. Lonely Light, settlement of House Farwynd, which is an eight-day sail from Old Wyk. And lastly, Pyke, settlement of Houses Greyjoy, Wynch, and Botley.

They were all targeted by the army, and by orders of the Young Raven, they left Pyke, the settlement of House Greyjoy, for last.

Since his rebirth, the Young Raven had always had enemies he needed to get rid of to achieve his goal of keeping the North and his family safe. Tywin Lannister, the most dangerous of them. Roose Bolton, who would seize any opportunity to weaken him and then stab him in the back. The Freys, all rats who would abandon ship at the first sign of sinking or leaks. But of all his enemies, the ones the Young Raven hated and detested the most were the Ironborn.

Tywin Lannister was an animal looking out for his own interest. He had nothing against the Young Raven; he was simply in his way. Roose Bolton was the same: the Young Raven was in his way, and the sinister Lord Leech, given the chance, would act without hesitation. The Freys were opportunists and not even on the same level as Roose Bolton, for without support, they would never dare to act against him. But the Ironborn were different.

Balon Greyjoy did not act out of greed. He did not act because the Young Raven was in his way or to gain benefits. Balon Greyjoy acted with the sole intention of causing harm. Balon Greyjoy was truly a miserable old man, and every night, in his nightmares, the Young Raven saw Winterfell burning. The people he grew up with murdered. Those he cared for, those he was supposed to protect. It was his shame, his greatest regret. Balon Greyjoy and his pirates did what no one had achieved before: they brought down the North, and the young Raven had been sitting in the Lord's seat, and if his humiliation was to be increased, he had been named King in the North. Losing the North and losing Winterfell had condemned him, all because of Balon Greyjoy's thirst for revenge, a ridiculous vengeance. Petty. Dishonorable.

The Freys acted like timid rats, but Balon Greyjoy acted like the most treacherous and poisonous of vipers, and the Young Raven was there in person to see his venom distilled, his skin forcibly flayed, and his head severed and displayed.

Thus, in every battle for the islands, in every little skirmish, like a judge, like an executioner, and like a witness to the spilled blood and the offered sacrifice, the Young Raven advanced, contemplating the slaughter mercilessly, without mercy, without grace, and with the most bloodthirsty desire for revenge, leaving his most hated enemy for last to make him feel, if he could feel anything, the despair of losing everything.

The Ironborn were pirates, slavers, and now, in the eyes of the realm, confessed traitors, and Stannis was not Robert. He had pronounced judgment, and kneeling would only make it easier to cut off the head.

The Lord of the Ravens spread his wings and followed the blood, the path to a new life and a new rebirth in this world.

The Lord of the Ravens soon reached his destination, finding himself on the terrace of Winterfell, with another world of towers, metal, and rivers of darkness cutting through a city, a monument to humanity…

The thoughts of the Lord of the Ravens were interrupted by an attempt to separate his soul, causing him to look forward to see the Young Raven, now without his raven skin, looking at him with the same indifference he had faced death with. Before him stood a tall young man with muscles developed through constant training. Clad in white and gray wolf skins, blue eyes, one of them illuminating the world like a star, one pure and full of warmth that tethered him to this world. Auburn hair dyed in blood, becoming the most crimson of reds, flowing like multiple fine rivers crystallizing into thin strands that the wind made wave behind him.

"Robb Stark, I am not a White Walker, I fear neither life nor death. I am indifference," the Lord of the Ravens introduced himself.

"White skin like weirwood, red eyes, white hair. Are you one of the Old Gods? No, Lord Bloodraven… The Three-Eyed Raven," said Robb Stark, frowning. "What do you want from me, Old One? I am not a greenseer, you cannot take my body," he added.

"You possess the magic of the First Men. That is enough. But what makes you a worthy vessel, and gives you an inevitable fate with me, is that," said the Lord of the Ravens, looking upwards.

Robb Stark looked at the sky, which was the representation of the other half of his soul, and understanding crossed his eyes. Then he looked back at him.

"Since your rebirth, all those who could be chosen ceased to be, for I am the memory of humanity, and your rebirth in this world made you a part of what I am," explained the Lord of the Ravens.

"If I have always been your target, what sense does all this make?" Robb Stark asked with doubts.

"For you, none. For me, who can see what is and what will be, it makes perfect sense, for choice is a path that cannot be given to you. The White Walkers tried, and your choice was something they could not handle. As the possibility of failure existed, then the possibility of choice had to be denied to you," said the Lord of the Ravens.

"From now on, you shall be my vessel, the vessel of humanity's memory," concluded the Lord of the Ravens.

Robb Stark scoffed, laughing loudly.

"Vessel my ass!" cursed Robb Stark. "I will decide, and such a thing as denying a choice does not exist. That's only what politicians and conmen say when they want to trick you. Come and see if you can take anything from me," he challenged.

The Lord of the Ravens looked at him indifferently and made no move.

"Conman? Yes, I suppose that's what I am, and you are right about the rest, but you are mistaken about one thing. You seem to believe that it was I who denied you the possibility of choosing, when only you can do that, and you did, sacrificing a soul to me and offering spilled blood as witness to our deal. All the blood you shed has created a path to your soul that I have followed here," explained the three-eyed raven, and the world began to change.

On the earth, pyramids, castles, rivers, seas, lakes were born. Castles of ice, sand, and steel. Battlefields and endless cemeteries. Great monuments and even greater ruins.

In the sky, the world also changed, and now there were worlds of fire, worlds of ice. Worlds of darkness, worlds of light. Worlds of pain and worlds of love. Worlds of peace, worlds of war. The deep void beyond existence, and a view of the entities known as gods, whom someone once worshipped or offered sacrifices to.

On the earth, the center of it all, there was a Winterfell surrounded by an extensive forest of wolves, for Robb Stark's world did not become smaller, but larger. So large, that his former world was just another grain of sand.

"This is the memory of humanity, Robb Stark," said the Lord of the Ravens to the young man who once pretended to be wise and old, but now realized he was just a child playing at being old. He was now aware of his own ignorance and his misunderstanding of his own situation and destiny in this world.

"Why?" Robb Stark asked, looking around with incomprehension.

"Why do I need a vessel if with my knowledge I can sustain the life of my current vessel for eternity?" the Lord of the Ravens asked. Robb Stark could only nod, and the Lord of the Ravens looked him up and down.

"Love, duty, cunning, and some honor. Feelings. They are a desire for life…" The Lord of the Ravens shook his head. "They are life. What do you see when you look at me?" the Lord of the Ravens asked. Robb Stark blinked, and the Lord of the Ravens nodded.

"There are no feelings, emotions, or desires to live within me. Everything I have desired, I have obtained, everything I have wanted is part of this memory. I am the memory of humanity, but my current vessel has already died. Everything is indifferent to him, and indifference is nothingness, emptiness. A memory that is nothing is easy to forget. That is why, once my vessel reaches indifference, I must change it.

"One day, you will also die, indifference will also come to you, Robb Stark, and at that moment you will only be a lifeless memory that must be passed on to another, who bears the crushing weight of knowledge, and this world will cease to be the center of these memories, as it is now with what was once my own world," concluded the Lord of the Ravens, as his body disappeared, for now he was just one of many memories, no longer the Lord of the Ravens.

The weight of knowledge left his soul, and beyond his burdens, there was only him…

"Brynden?" asked a sharp voice that materialized into a memory, and that memory made something stir in his chest, with a deep beat and a small breath of life, and feelings that had already been forgotten.

"Shiera…"

Author's Note 1: This is the penultimate chapter, a chapter narrated by the three-eyed raven, and my vision of him, although this is not all, because his responsibilities have been inherited by Robb, and in the next chapter, we will see what they are about, as in this one we have only seen a personal point of view, and the general one is missing, which deals with his purpose, but as that is now Robb's job, I have decided to leave it to him.

Author's Note 2: In the next and final chapter, we will also see Jon's POV, and the White Walkers, and my vision of them, which as I have already told you before, will be different from the TV series, and more in line with the spirit of the books, where the Night King does not exist, and no enemy is absolute evil.