Thirty-Five Days Ago
POV: Melora Hightower,
I tilted the silver jug, watching the warm crimson stream spill onto the dark earth of the planter.
The tree was grotesque. Beautiful too, in its own way. A Weirwood I'd cultivated after seeing it in my dreams. No larger than a common shrub.
The roots were always hungry. I watched them pulse, drinking the offering greedily, channeling that stolen vitality up the twisted trunk to the object lodged in its crown. A jagged shard of black obsidian.
The Glass Candle.
"Drink," I whispered. "Drink and show me."
I remembered nights from my youth when sleep felt like a battlefield. A being with red eyes and withered wings had invaded my dreams. 'Fly', it had croaked at me. 'Fly or die.'
I tried. Gods, how I tried. Threw my mind against the skins of ravens, desperate to slip inside. But the doors stayed shut. I couldn't warg. Couldn't fly.
So I turned my back on that beast and dug into higher mysteries instead. Took me decades, but even though I couldn't fly, I mastered the glass candle.
As the roots drank the blood, the candle ignited.
The light was blinding. Brighter than I'd ever seen it. It pushed away the shadows with an unnatural red and black glow. 'Why? Why is it brighter?'
As I wondered, I saw a man and a woman sitting across from each other in the flames.
The woman was Daenerys Targaryen. I knew her. But the man…
"It's that bastard."
Jon Snow. Winterfell's bastard.
I'd watched him before, months ago, through this very candle. Seen him standing in the Sept of Baelor, leaning over Jon Arryn's pale corpse.
A bastard who'd stumbled onto some old blood magic of the First Men. I'd observed him many times through the flames, but never found how he learned that magic.
"Who are you really?" Daenerys asked in the vision.
In the flames, Jon held a green stone. A dragon egg. It cracked in his grip, and a screeching winged creature clawed its way into the world.
He looked at Daenerys. The candle carried his words across the miles, whispering them straight into my mind. "Aegon Targaryen. Trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark."
I commanded the candle to verify.
I saw the Tower of Joy. Saw Lyanna Stark, stained with blood, placing a baby into the arms of a weeping Eddard Stark.
I saw Prince Rhaegar and Lyanna beneath a Weirwood, their hands bound in silk, speaking of the Song of Ice and Fire. The prophecy of the conqueror.
I poured more blood and pushed the candle further, casting my gaze to the far North, beyond the Wall.
It was a nightmare. Entities of ice and inhuman beauty sweeping through a Wildling village. Their crystal blades shattering steel and bone. They killed everything that moved. Man, woman, pregnant woman. Even birds flying overhead dropped as their wings froze.
Then everyone who died rose again. With blue eyes.
I pulled back, gasping for air. I wasn't able to shake that vision. For three days, I wasn't able to sleep. I had to use milk of poppy.
When I recovered, I continued to watch Jon,
He was in the middle of the sea, directing his beasts to tear apart a few pirate ships. Beside the ships floated the carcass of a massive whale.
I watched, mesmerized and horrified, as he placed his hands on the whale. He didn't speak spells. Just commanded the flesh. The blubber, muscle, and bone began flowing like wax.
He used wood from those ships and meat from the whale to create life.
In ten days, ten dragons stood on the shore. Not as big as Balerion, but large enough for men to ride.
...
Present Day
"Wings in the dark," my raven said. "Beast with wings of a Dragon."
I didn't turn around. Kept staring at the black flame. "I know. I saw them."
Following the raven was a tiny blur.
A bird the size of my thumb. It hovered in the air before my window, wings beating so fast they were invisible.
I straightened my back. This was my chance…
"I have been waiting for you," I said to the tiny bird. As I moved towards the window, "For the true King of the Seven Kingdoms."
POV: Jon Stark
Fascinating.
There on the obsidian table sat the stunted Weirwood. I could see blood in the soil, feeding the roots, which fed the Glass Candle in turn.
She isn't using blood magic directly. She found a way to channel normal blood through a Weirwood's root and turn it into mana.
I flew inside the room,
"I have been waiting for you," she said. "For the true King of the Seven Kingdoms."
I focused on the hummingbird's wings. They had cells from electric eels and fire catalyst woven into the muscle tissue.
I activated both. An arc of plasma formed between the wingtips.
I changed the frequency of the arc, vibrating air molecules to make sound. Like a plasma speaker.
"Melora." The voice was synthetic. Completely inhuman.
Her body trembled. I saw fear flash across her face before vanishing just as quickly.
"I wish to join you," she said quickly, putting the mask back on. "To fight against the darkness. It's my duty as a Hightower. After all our family motto—"
"What do you want?" I asked in a calm voice. But the sound that came from the plasma arc was like steel grinding against rock.
"Y-Your Grace?"
"I know why the Hightower has been so quiet, Melora. Your father, Leyton Hightower, has been dead for two years. Hasn't he?"
Her face went pale.
"I know you're using glamour to address your bannermen. You rule in his name because you fear they won't follow a woman. Especially a woman who plays with blood."
Silence filled the tower room.
"As you say you'll join me. But only after you're loyal to me… You know where I am. Come to me. Become loyal to me, and I'll help you become Lady of Oldtown in your own right."
She lowered her head, sinking to her knees on the cold stone of the balcony.
"Oldtown is yours, Your Grace. I will be there in an hour."
The hummingbird flew back to me.
I sat in the solar of the manse, waiting. My maids are still at work, gathering Archmaesters.
In less than an hour, the door opened.
Melora Hightower stood in the doorway. She wore a simple grey cloak over dark robes.
"Your Grace," she said quietly, sinking into a curtsy.
"Come in," I said. "Close the door."
She closed the door.
"You came quickly,"
"I used a passage, it runs beneath the city, straight from the Hightower to the docks."
"Sit," I gestured to the chair opposite me.
She sat. Her back was straight, hands folded in her lap. Trying to look composed. But I could smell the fear on her.
"You want to be Lady of Oldtown," I said. Not a question.
"Yes."
"And you're willing to give me your loyalty in exchange."
She hesitated. Just for a moment. "Yes."
I leaned forward. "Loyalty isn't something you give with words, Melora. It's something that lives in here." I tapped my forehead.
"You're going to change me," she whispered.
"Yes."
"Like you changed those Dothraki."
"Not quite like them," I said. "You're offering yourself willingly."
She swallowed hard. "Will I still be myself?"
"Yes," I said honestly. "You'll still think. Still feel. Still practice your craft. But your loyalty to me will be absolute. You won't be able to betray me. Won't even want to. The thought will feel wrong."
She was quiet for a long time. Staring at her hands.
"And if I refuse?" she asked softly.
"Will you? After all, you know the benefits…"
She took her time, "Do it," finally she whispered.
I stood. Walked around the table. Stood behind her chair.
I placed my hands on either side of her head. Fingers against her temples.
I closed my eyes and focused on her mind,
I dove deeper. Past the surface thoughts, past the memories of blood rituals and glass candle visions. Down to the core. The foundation of who she was.
I found her sense of self. Her pride. Her ambition. Her fear of being nothing.
I didn't break them. I redirected them.
I took her ambition and tied it to my success. Her pride became pride in serving me. Her fear of being nothing became fear of failing me.
It was delicate work. Like threading a needle with spider silk.
But I'd done this before. I knew the pathways now.
I finished the mental restructuring and moved on.
Next was the magic node.
I focused on the space near her heart. Used biokinesis to reshape the tissue there. Created a mana node.
The node began to pulse. Drawing in ambient energy from the world around her, converting it to mana, and storing it in her blood.
"Almost done," I murmured.
Finally, the Faceless Man catalyst on back of her right hand.
….