~~~ Forest near oldtown~~~
There were dead bodies of birds across the area, plucked feathers, open heads, eyes torn out—everything.
Meanwhile, in the skies, thousands of birds fought each other. The scene looked as if World War Two was going on, dogfights in the sky instead of planes, there were birds.
If a human saw it, they would not belive it at all.
"CHARGE FORWARD, caw caw!" one-eyed raven shouted as he, along with two dozen birds, struck from above at the battleground.
The beaks clashed. Birds kept falling one after another.
"To the Emperor, caw caw!" one of the birds shouted as he fell from the sky, his feathers red from his and his enemies' blood, beak almost broken with multiple cracks.
"Father, caw!" one of the crows went after the fallen bird.
The fallen bird fell on a rock and lay lifeless. When his son landed, he tried to peck him.
"Father... Fath— cawww!" the crow screamed in pain.
And with that, he looked at the ongoing war in the sky with new determination and flew like a bull charging at red color.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the battle—
"Lieutenant, we should have brought more boys with us. These Citadel bastards outnumber us three to one, caw," Crow No. 21 said with exhaustion.
"Lieutenant, should we retreat?" the pigeon next to them asked as they were tearing apart a raven.
Soon, reinforcements for the birds of the Citadel arrived. Thousands more ravens were coming to assist them.
"Caw caw! You will not live, you fuckers! Fuck your emperor," the leader of the reinforcements shouted.
"Shit, we are fucked, caw caw," Crow No. 23, who was right beside them, spoke as he lay on the ground, his left wing completely injured. He closed his eyes in despair.
"Take this, fuckers. After we are done with you, we will find your women and children," the leader of the ravens' reinforcement shouted, trying to spread terror.
No wonder ravens are so closely linked to demons.
But suddenly, from the sky, hundreds of black figures descended like meteors on the Citadel bird alliance reinforcements.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Sounds were heard as they crashed onto the horde. They were peregrine falcons.
And right above, bigger birds descended upon the battlefield—the eagles, completely turning the side of the battle.
"Looks like we are not going to be fucked, caw," Crow No. 23 cheered.
"Brothers, charge! Glory to the Emperor!" the one-eyed crow shouted as they attacked the skies once more.
"Cawwww!" Thousands of birds screamed.
Meanwhile, a few miles away, in Oldtown Citadel—
Maesters were confused as most of the ravens had gone away. No one knew where they had gone. Travelers had observed birds fighting each other. Maesters were confused about it, while the septons called it a curse of the Seven, an omen.
---
~~~ Kingslanding ~~~
Tywin Lannister POV
"Your Grace," I bowed to Robert, who had just returned from hunting. A spear in his hands, covered with blood. Following him was Ser Barristan Selmy and another Kingsguard I don't seem to recall his name.
There was a strong smell of wine on him. There was a belly forming on him like a pregnant woman. He was no longer the warrior he once was.
The Demon of the Trident was nothing more than a drunken whoremonger now.
"Tywin!" Robert bellowed, grinning like a fool. He seized me in a crushing embrace, lifting me clear off the ground as if I were a common serving girl.
The wine smell was too strong on him; even that little demon doesn't drink this much.
I was unable to breathe because of how tightly he had gripped me. I take it back the demon is still there.
But this idiot I swear in the name of the Seven, if he were not king, I would have had the Mountain deal with him long ago.
He dropped me heavily. Pain shot through my knees.
"So what brings the great Lord of Casterly Rock to King's Landing?" Robert asked, still grinning. "Don't tell me those ironborn fools are stirring again."
"They would not dare after the lesson you taught them, Your Grace," I replied smoothly.
Robert laughed and took a cup of wine from a serving boy, draining it in one long pull.
I waited until the cup was lowered before speaking.
"Your Grace, there is something I would like to discuss with you," I said, straightening my back.
"Go on," the brute declared in a loud voice.
"I have two matters to lay before you, Your Grace. First, I ask that you allow me to raise Joffrey as my ward at Casterly Rock. The boy requires proper guidance if he is to rule one day. Second, I propose a betrothal between Myrcella and Artys Arryn. It would strengthen the alliance between both houses and secure the Vale," I said.
I had put quite some thought into it. This Artys would come back into the fold if Myrcella were betrothed to him.
"No."
The king answered immediately, without a moment's thought.
The word landed like a slap.
What? Has this fool grown so drunk that he cannot understand?
I kept my expression perfectly neutral. "Your Grace, if I may—"
"I heard you perfectly well, Lord Tywin," the king cut in, waving a meaty hand. "Joffrey stays in King's Landing. He is my son. I'll not have you turn him into another little lion cub. And Myrcella is a child. We'll speak of betrothals when she's older if I feel like it," he declared.
Has he lost his mind completely? He will not raise Joffrey.
I studied him carefully. The wine had already clouded his eyes again. Cersei would ruin the boy here. She indulged his cruelty, fed his worst instincts. Without my hand to guide him, Joffrey would not be able to rule properly.
My legacy is at stake, the future of my house.
"Your Grace, you m—" I tried again.
"More wine, god damn it!" the king waved me off, already lost in drink.
All those lives… all those wars… only to have a drunken fool replace a cruel madman.
What should I do now? I cannot trust Cersei with Joffrey.
"What should we do now?" my brother Kevan asked me from behind.
"Let's go to the Red Keep first. I will talk to him tomorrow when he is not drunk. Besides, I will see if he agrees to free Jaime from that white cloak," I said in a low voice so only we two could hear it.
"Only if he is not drunk in the morning," Kevan said, his eyes focused on the king as he was drinking wine like a thirsty man drinks water.
"He would," I said with a smirk.
Tywin Lannister did not beg. If the king would not listen, then there are other ways to convince him.
POV ends