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Brynden saw red still. His brother slain and so his twin boys, by his own doing, his own plotting. He murdered them, cursed in the eyes of gods and men. Kinslayer. He remembered how the mudd felt cold beneath him before he passed out, it flooded his armor and soaked his leathers, like sinking in a dark pool.
He grunted before taking his head off the pillow, a pathetic sound made by a defeated warrior. His hand went straight to the side of his head. He was cleaned and bared underneath fluffy furs and high-quality sheets.
"Don't scratch your bandage. It would not please me if your wound reopened."
Shiera.
His good eye, his only eye, focused on her and Brynden thanked the old gods, and even the new, for his sister. His clever and beautiful sister.
"I hate to repeat myself, but I was right. Aegor was not captured." Her dark eyes glinted in the room's shade, the ember in the fireplace shone its last light. She leaned back in a carved white chair beside his bed, Brynden recognized his own quarters in the Red keep.
"Does his name must be the first words I hear from you?" He let out a long sigh when her pale finger reached his face. Shiera had her hands unsullied, but a faint scent lingered, of iron and blood, and glorious tragedy.
"I ordered you around first." She whispered as softly as if it was a secret that only Lady Shiera could perform this amazing deed. Yet, the entire seven kingdoms knew that Lady Shiera's desire was Brynden's purpose.
"If the gods are good, the common folk will find his rotten corpse lying close by an oak tree." He mumbled ever so resentful of his bloody brother.
"The gods are seldom good." Her warm touch wandered from his birthmark and found the path to the corner of his lips."Or is this a dragon dream? Maybe a green dream? Though, it could be your heart praying , my Lord Bloodraven."
"Do not mock me, my Lady." He murmured hoarsely, his mouth dry and his chest hurting as his voice ragged. ''You've seen something in the flames, then?"
"I told you exactly what I have seen and who I have seen." Shiera said, unbothered, her thumb roaming the softness of his lower lip. She seemed engaged in punishing him in her peculiar ways.
"I want to avoid another battle." He retorted quietly. I want to avoid more blood and dirt splattered over your pretty dress. The delicate fabric of her white long sleeves was stained a nauseous shade of red and brown, his own dried blood, he was sure. By her side, over the nightstand, there were her silver rings, her preferred necklace, new linen bandages and a bowl pooling with clean water. Shiera would never let citadel maester assist him, when she could do it herself. They would always give him too much milk of the poppy, and to his powerful mind the visions were real nightmares he could not escape. Brynden leaned into her touch.
"There will be more, it's useless..." hesitation didn't fit his sister's fluid voice.
"In a decade? Twenty years from now? Maybe half a century?" Impatience didn't suit him either. However, his missing eye throbbed and he could see Daemon screaming while his youngest boy knelt dying, blood flowing down his face. All of them killed by guile and well aimed arrows.
Shiera seemed to recoil in the shadows, her mismatched eyes gleamed like stars in a velvet black night sky. "You will witness all the deaths. A thousand times, and then one more."
His face hardened along with hers. "I don't want to argue in the moment, I am healing from an injury" Brynden's crimson eye squinted as he spat disdain."An injury given to me by your lover, coincidentally."
"Now you mock me, dearest brother." She stood as a delighted smile crossed her full and so, so pretty lips. Shiera walked to the fireplace by his right side, he watched her as she slowly crouched to rearrange the firewood. "Daeron never believes when I tell all the tales about your jealousy." Her laughter was quiet, yet lovely. Her body, bathed in the warm light, was lovely too. The wood cracked as the fire licked it, ignited swiftly by the dying embers. "The mighty Lord of whispers, so unsettled by a common mistress." His mistress turned to him, as the words slipped from her mouth teasing him so. "So mundane of you. So human."
He held her hips when she stopped in front of him. Brynden wanted to nip her hip bone even through her silky clothes, maybe even kiss her flat belly while fantasizing about white haired children, but her fast digits guided his chin up, to look at her, his own hand engulfed hers. "I don't care about your little games as long as you keep touching me."
Brynden felt starved for intimacy, for joy and the comfort only Shiera could give him. After a bloodbath, soldiers returned to their families, and the lonely bunch returned to the whorehouse after selling what they looted. Brynden, however, didn't enjoy brothels as his father once did. Nor did he had a wife to celebrate the lust of being alive. Though, just as the men he commanded, he craved for a chance at redemption and forgiveness in a lover's embrace.
The only woman he'd ever wanted, held his face between her thumb and the fingers scratching his jaw. Her other hand roamed to the top of his head, combing methodically strands of his rumpled hair.
"So sincere of you, Brynden." As always, he shuddered when she called his given name. He felt worse than he realized, soreness spread all over his limbs, he flinched. Shiera sat down on his bed. "A shiver only hurts this much, my love, when you are covered with bruises and your eye is missing." Her smile was sad and her voice choked by the end of her sentence, he could sense her guilt from a mile away. The ruthless woman -who could watch knights break bones and teeth in the meley or fighting for the honor of her favor- worried about his well-being.
Her eyes were on his. Dark blue as the dusk, deep green as the godswood. Her hair looked warmer so close to the bright fire, the waves fell around her like a gentle sea during the golden hour, it reached his bedsheets and he refrained from tangling his finger in it. "You are not to be blamed for this rebellion." It might have been what she wanted to hear, it was also the rare truth that pleased Shiera. It sounded too much like a purr for his own liking.
"When I first saw you..." Her words were a whisper and he got closer to her to share this secret. "In dreamer's landscape, you were so powerful, draped in shadows." she was looking at his mouth, her words were a caress, then. "And you missed me. You had one eye, Brynden. You saw everything, but in your face there was only one bloody eye."
She punctuated it with her forefinger hovering in front of his face. Shiera nuzzled him, as he held her slender wrist and stroked the inner skin above her foul gown with his thumb. Then, he stopped restraining himself and kissed her, a quick, hurried touch that would never suffice. When he tried to retreat, she held his nape with her left hand and he parted his lips for her. She moaned slightly, just like she always did, when their tongues met. He pulled her body closer to continue the practiced dance they kept on dancing with each other. When she traced his neck with her wet mouth, he was holding back a whimper.
"I was trying to make a point." She drawled by his ear in-between sweet slow kisses, but Brynden could only pay half attention as he started to fondle her back and unstrap her clothing.
"Make your point, then." He retorted, his voice muffled by the pretty curve of her shoulder. When she adjusted herself atop of him, straddling his lap he was certain that nothing Shiera would say could keep him fully focused. He was wrong, though.
"You will leave me." She accused. Her gaze fell upon him, her hauntingly almond shaped eyes begging for a contradiction. And he would give her anything.
"You cruel woman, I asked for your hand too many times, but you deny me still." Her body was flushed against him and he could not stop the wolfish grin, nor the sense of belonging. "You deny me and reject me to a point no one in court would believe me sane. The highlords even stopped offering their daughters."
"You do not want their daughters." Her smile was menacing, but she kissed his face again. So, he kept entertaining her.
"I want you, and I want you to toy with me" He finally unstrapped her, and he could see the smooth creamy flesh beneath her collar. "And I would never leave you, as long as you would have me." Her hands traced a steady path down his torso, scrapping the width of his stomach.
"All ravens are liars." She muttered against his parted mouth and kept her way below until he cursed the gods and growled her name.
Bryden stomped his way through Maegor's keep. His dark gray cape flowed behind him like rising smoke, the hood kept his albino skin protected from the setting sun that bathed the yards with red streaks and dark shadows. As he stormed the castle, servants and nobles avoided him alike. The mysterious and composed Lord of the whispers had a sour mood and burning crimson eyes. His face darkened by the second.
The serpentine stairs spiraled as he rose to the last floor. A hundred steps to stir his rage. Brynden dismissed everyone in the way with one barked command. The guards would boast they saw Lord Bloodraven in his way to fuck his mistress. The maids would whisper about love and longing. They were all wrong.
As he crossed the oval threshold of her unlocked door, the sight before him had his undivided attention. Brynden wished he could forget informants and the threat of war, he wished he could disown his duty to his king. Fuck the realm, and the king, and all of it.
Shiera was watching the last moments of daylight, her elbows on her windowsill, her round rear, bent towards him like an offering, covered only in ivory summer silk. The robe clinged everywhere, it left nothing for his imagination. If he hadn't committed her body to his memory, the traitorous rebels could be knocking on the mudd gate, but he wouldn't be bothered. She turned slightly to him, and he could see her breast against the gold and orange light of the setting sun.
"My Lord, what brings you to my modest quarters?" She asked in her musical cadence. Shiera Seastar looked ablaze, her heart-shaped face was framed by her hand and the most decent thing she wore was the necklace he had given her, she preened on his absolute lack of control. The gods bless me, while they torture me.
His hungry eyes flickered between her body and her face, he swallowed thousands of words and improper thoughts. As she watched his throat bob he knew she orchestrated this ploy for her own enjoyment, probably even before he received his whispers. She was aware of his temper upon receiving dangerous information, and had extensive practical knowledge of how to abuse him above all else.
"You know exactly why I ran across this filthy excuse of a city." He found his voice, but it sounded strained. "He means to begin a war, but you also know this."
"I reckon you will not refuse him." Shiera touched the green emerald right below her pale collarbone. His ire came back to him when her nonchalance became apparent, red eyes set in every bit of her exposed skin. Brynden's mouth watered while approaching her.
"He means to take you, and kill me. He means to overthrow Daeron with lies and Daemon's prowess." He grabbed her wrist and turned her to him, drinking her features, careful not to give her room to touch him and manipulate him to submission. Her bare feet scraped the myrish tapestry, Shiera stepped into the rough motion gracefully, just like she had done repeatedly when they danced. The first time, she was a shy maiden and him, a green boy, twirling across lavish ballrooms. Their self centered father was no longer the ruler. "The realm will bleed, because of your lust, because you are..."
"Are you insecure, my Lord Bloodraven?" She laughed at his face, he was so close he felt her warm breath kiss his pale cheek. He held her harder, she always liked a little rough, though." Do you fear you are not enough to quench my…cravings? So I had to resort to Aegor-"
"Do. Not. Even. Start." He interrupted her mockery rudely, his words clipped while a dangerous rumble formed in his chest."Don't dare speak his name." Brynden leaned into her, she smelled faintly like the godswood, like life. He hoped she prayed for mercy from the old gods, but gods tended to be ever so cruel. "You had your way with him, but bittersteel is a greedy, stupid brute and, now he wants more. Has he even pleasured you once, when he grunted like a bore above you?"
Her sinuous mismatched eyes widened impossibly and she held a breath for too long. Surprise was such rare event that her face almost didn't know how to function. Slowly, as she seemed to regain her speaking ability, a sinful smile flowed Iike a new brook over her red lips. "You were there, Brynden. Why don't you entertain me and tell me the opinions you, most certainly, have? Was it a bird?" She was amused, he could tell, she was pleased. She blossomed in his jealousy.
"Yes." He hissed as she stepped into his space, impossibly closer. Behind her, the window framed the sky. Red, orange and pink allowing for the deep blue and purple to take place. Brynden knew that Shiera looked magnificent in the moonlight. He coul peek at her creamy leg escaping the slit of her robe. "I flew with black wings and stopped by this very window. Only to see drunken bittersteel, fumbling with his pants. Then his coarse, brown beard marked your skin, when he slopply tried to suck your breast." Brynden's body twitched all-over to touch said lovely breasts, to stroke her skin and give her what their disgusting brother had denied her. "He did not make to five seconds after he was-"
"I am still sated by his performance, I am getting what I wanted from it to this day." Shiera's interruption was nothing but a challenge, she wanted to evoke a reaction and she was escalating because there was nothing she wouldn't say to see his unraveling. "He is not the most skilled lover, nor he has ability to use the tools at his disposal, but here you are: confessing your sorrows at my window, hard as I talk about other man fucking me."
"He is dragging Daemon into this, his children and loyal powerful friends" He gritted through his teeth, he felt thwarted and exasperated, his tone was laced in fury at the thought of his haughty beloved brother: accomplished warrior, excessively charismatic, formidable leader and, nonetheless, a bastard, who aimed to seat on the iron throne.
"This is not about me, nor you, nor our brothers. It's not even about our stupid father, who legitimized us all. You have the resources to know that the lords wage war, that's what they do. And when the battle is over, the land soaked with blood, they hope to come out on top. It is just a flimsy attempt to reorganize power and reignite old resentment. The summer knights will die seeking glory, the old lords will prey what is left." Shiera was a sight to behold, impeccably clever and able to foresee the morrow. A strange combination which provided all her hearts desires: green land and stone castles; riches and expensive gifts; love and soul of fools who tried to own her; and mostly she wished for Brynden on a silver platter or wrapped around her littlefinger like an annulet. The woman was as useful, as she was a liability to the realm. To him.
"You should have stayed away from him". The words sounded envious, almost dripping with foul venom. Regardless, they left his mouth with such ease. "Or maybe I should have been better. I should have stepped away from you, if only I knew what was the rightful thing."
Shiera didn't care for judgmental quips. As a bastard daughter of a foreigner woman, she learned quickly how to deal with public opprobrium. She encouraged rumors of herself and just laughed after hearing gossip, but what she hated the most were empty promises that would fuel her fear of abandonment. Especially, if they came from Brynden, for he was hers to trifle with and not the other way round. Her face grew colder, like a marble sculpture . She has finished playing with me.
"Then do it." She kept her glacial exterior intact, but her words were heated. "Your attempt to blame me is yours only, Brynden Rivers.When this uprising is over every farmer, every sheppard, every whore and every mother will bestow blame upon you. It is you who they will call Kinslayer. Leave."
"As you wish, my Lady". He took her hand to his lips and whispered to her knuckles. He had vowed long ago she was the one he would never forsaken. Her rejection stung in a way that tempered his boiling sentiment just to replace it with longing. He was lying to himself if he thought he could just walk away from her. War was an inevitability, but Shiera was his destiny. Everytime he tried to deny her, he could only want her harder. Lord Bloodraven would do Shiera's biding, and armies would clash, and the realm would bleed, and kings and pretenders would die alike.
"You have the audacity to come here and chastise me, you forget yourself." Her voice held Shiera's typical unbridled rage, quiet, but full of contempt. Unrelenting mismatched eyes met his. "I do not belong to you, as I have continuously made clear through our adulthood." Shiera freed her hand from his grip. "No one controls me. No one dares to-"
His most beloved sister could be as volatile, and as deadly, as wildfire, especially when he was the object of her entertainment. He walked a fine line, between a kiss and a slight. Moreover, he had to manage his own unstable feelings when she'd put him in the center of her wager. However, games could be won within the spam of one incredulous hand, precisely the same way Shiera could always be persuaded if one knew how to lure her interest. Brynden looked pliant and conspiratory.
"Let me stay, then." Undesguisebly pleading, the lord of whispers tried to hold his mistress and hoped for the gift of her clemency. Talking about her relationship with their brother has set his jealousy alight, but what remained was only heat and the tempting sight of her. "Marry me and let me stay forever. You control me, instead."
"I thought you have swore to never ask me again." Her grin was earnest, amazed even. Surprised twice, she might as well be wet. "Mayhaps some oaths are worth breaking".
"Vows and oaths may rott and turn into lies." Brynden felt the summer silk melt beneath his touch, up and down her spine. "And honor is, more often than not, only an excuse for weaker men, scared to fulfill their own duties." Her hair was soft and her skin warm. "I am not afraid to stain my honor, as flimsy as it is."
"Words are wind, Brynden, especially yours."
By the time the full moon rose in the sky, Shiera's humor has sweetened enough that she was wearing only her emerald and sapphire necklace, Brynden was wearing his nameday clothes.
The good king sat on the iron throne. Blackened swords sprouted in every direction, like a huge bush made of burnt metal thorns. His back was straight and dignified, the elaborate crown of their father held high over his head. A red cape draped around his shoulders and dark clothing embroidered with gold threads.
Upon arrival, Lord Brynden Rivers was announced to the dragon skulls. The void black eyes watched him as he presented himself at the thrones feet. He knelt and lowered his gaze.
"Your grace."
"Rise, brother." Daeron himself stood and climbed down the steps of folded blades." We must deal with urgent matters today, you and I." He gestured for the two white knights to leave. After a few strides they were alone with the remnants of their house's legacy.
"Urgent- is there something I do not know?" His voice stuttered, while his crimson eyes watched his regal brother's slow descent. Daeron seemed to be amused by the response, his gentle smile widened and crinkled his plumm orbs.
"There are few things you do not know, my clever brother. Allow me to stretch this moment a little further."
Ever joyful, Daeron signaled Brynden to join him while he made his way towards the long open window, so that they could watch the gardens bellow. It was noon time of a warm spring day, flowers blossomed everywhere and all the bushes were green and lush.
"Myriah decided that a feast today would be lovely." Daeron's smiling eyes were on his queen as he spoke so fondly of her, they watched as she laughed and clapped to the songs presented to her by skilled musicians. Her black hair cascaded down her back, like a river sprinkled with white pearls, her dress bore the colors of her dornish ancestry, bright orange and the sun's yellow. "We will join them when the matter is settled."
"And what is the matter we must settle, your grace?" He asked, the toll of merriment beneath them carried through the keep. Half hundred noble guests roused together in tandem, dornishmen and women that entered the royal court along the Martells. They brought new sounds and their spice to the Red keep. Brynden enjoyed their music just fine, the dragon peppers and the snake sauce he could live without.
"That of your marriage of course." The good king mused, but his stare didn't stray from the feast. "Lady Menissa recently reminded me of your helpful deeds and how she wishes for grandchildren."
"Is that so, your grace?" His sweet indiscreet mother twirled around the gardens, flashing her white smile to old Lord Uller, a bald vulture of a man, relentless and crazed. Though as he gracefully guided Lady Menissa, he seemed pleasantly engaged in conversation, even laughing. Yet another proof that no one was immune to her Blackwood charms.
"Just so." Daeron started to tap the tune on the window's glass." Your bride to be must be there somewhere" His purple eyes fidgeted from one person to another, the little sea of boisterous people moving in waves of couples dancing and sitting, trading places, as the band played and new dishes were catered to the tables.
"My bride..." the young bastard was speechless, his own thoughts faltered him. Is he talking about-
"Yes, there she is!" He pointed and Brynden followed the direction of his index. Amidst the gold and red of God's grace, the purple and yellow of Lemonwood, the gold and green of Hayford, the black gates of Yronwood, Brynden saw a flash of white. Shiera. "It was brought to my knowledge that you already proposed."
"But she refused me" Brynden's voice was pooling with mourning that he hadn't felt in quite long time. His sister's answer was a strike he could never have anticipated. As she orbited their eldest bastard brother, her words haunted him still, her cruel mouth has spoken of freedom and dark knowledge she would pursuit, but his heart only heard a sovereign cruelty and old promises of abandonment. Shiera smiled to Daemon broadly as they clapped hands and continued to move.
"Did she? I am certain she could be persuaded if you asked again. With my blessing this time."
Brynden was shaken by the idea. He could have her and his king would approve, and probably would insist for his queen to plan the wedding ceremony. For a long moment he delved in her beauty, her hair was nested in sparkle and the tiniest silver strings, she wore a pale blue dress embroidered with myrish white lace on the bodice and the sleeves, that rippled around her like sea foam. Her emerald and sapphire necklace was in place, the one he had ordered just for her. The sight of her had tempted him so, he almost accepted the offer, her as a glistening prize. However he wanted her, he could never betray her.
"You cannot order Shiera." His tone is sullen and he let himself wonder for how long he will grieve for the proper future he would never have with her. "No one can, your grace."
"Brother, she trails after you since she's learned how to walk." Daeron retorted, his words filled with good intention and kindness. "She loves you, she is just a fickle maiden afraid to admit what she wants."
Fickle. Brynden refrained from rolling his bloody red eyes.
"She always knows what she wants, brother, and she does not want me as a Lord husband. She loves her freedom more than me, more than the idea of motherhood." His voice kept failing him as his mind assaulted him with the image of Shiera round with his child. He thought a thousand times of a pretty girl with red eyes or a clever boy with Shiera's smile. "That's not her, that's Daenerys."
"Not all of the dragon blood are prone to duty." He let a long sigh scape, the same that followed Daeron everywhere he thought of their father. His bright smile was back in place when he squeezed Brynden's shoulder. "All the same, you should not concede defeat. It does not suit you."
His brother king guided him away from the view and the sunlight that flooded the throne room.They started their ways through the shadowy bowels of the Red keep, ready to join the feasting court.
"You and Shiera are always fighting a battle of wills. Certainly, she is the most obstinate young woman our family has seen." The King's laughter echoed through the empty halls, the only sound beside leather steps of the white shadows that accompanied them. "You, brother, are the resilient one."
They descended the stone steps, it seemed there were a million of them and an eternity had passed before their advent. Amidst green leaves and colorful petals the court bowed to their king, the fiddlers and singers stopped to warmly greet their ruler.
When Daeron joined his queen the silence was dead once again, joyful music and dance were at play. However, blood colored eyes met a mismatched gaze that filled Brynden's world. The only sound he could hear was the broken pant that left Shiera's lips. Like a dream, the moment was fleeting and it lingered for too long.
Shiera awaited him.
Brynden knelt on the godswood. He prayed in front of the big oak that replaced a traditional weirwood tree. Though the leaves were emerald green, not blood red, he felt the presence of his nameless gods, he knew he would be heard through the howling wind.
He, on the other hand, could hear stomping and problems coming his way. He awaited for her approach to even open his eyes, for he could not bear the mere sight of her so distant from his reach.
"You absolute bastard."
Shiera positioned her enraged self between Brynden and the tree, heaving and fuming white clouds through her parted red lips, her face was flushed and in her eyes Brynden saw fire. "How dare you?" Her voice rattled, loud and quiet at the same time.
"I have no idea of what you blame me for, dear sister, but, as you see, it's too early for misdeeds. I was asleep less than half an hour ago."
"So was I, Brynden, and that's the point." She spat indignantly, her teeth gritted as she seemed to debate if murder inside the godswood was a reasonable act to perform before the breaking of dawn. "You liar, you do not need to be awake to torment me." Brynden looked up at her, and he might have wanted to stay like that forever, kneeling in front of his spoiled sister, drinking in her beauty and taking all he could get from her furious mood while admiring her in a dark sacred place. Her long hair untamed and free of jeweled nets, her bare feet and her sleeping gown, covered by a shimmering robe, she could have conjured herself from the most shameful of his dreams.
"Did you have a nightmare, Shiera? Do you want me to hold you as I used to?" A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth, the mischief in his voice was just cheap teasing. He wished to comply to her claims and really vex her, it might give a truer meaning to her affronted expression.
Shiera took a deep breath and a step towards him, her forefinger raised accusingly right in front of his face. "Your mockery is a mummer's play. The next time you pester and scare me in my sleep, I swear not even your gods, not even your mother, will stop me." Her voice was soft as she threatened him, beautiful and dangerous as valyrian blades.
"Did you just say you were scared?" That is new.
"You heard me just fine!" She ran her hand through her wild silver strands and shivered as the wind ruffled leaves and cracked the highest branches.
"Come here, sister." Was the quietest order he ever gave, the only way to deal with Shiera's wounded pride was to flatter and please her. Most of all Brynden wanted to please her. "Please."
The young maiden looked down on him, although she pouted and huffed, she finally relented on her rage. Brynden took her small hand when she was close enough, his crimson eyes pleading, and pulled her down gently. Before she could resume her wordstream of complaints, he shed his black sable cloak and covered her with it, he swiftly fixed the front and smoothed the hood over her head. "There." He failed horribly as he tried not to smile at Shiera. "Now you can tell me all about my aggravating behavior." He left unspoken that the winter chill lingered, even more so in the darkest hour of a spring night.
She sat on the dirty ground, crunching leaves as she rearranged her legs. The silent reigned until pale fingers, as cold as ice, met the young bastard's face. Brynden didn't recoil, he held her mismatched gaze.
"I dreamed you were old." Shiera's voice seemed defeated somehow, her words were failing broken sounds. "Held by darkness, bound to it." She breathed unsteadily when she traced the arc of his left brow and then his cheek. "You were so far away, you were freezing. I felt it in my bones." For the briefest damned moment, he was certain she would cry. It wrecked him. "You left."
"I am by your side." Brynden whispered low, his hot breath mingled with hers, white smoke rising to the black night sky. His stare faltered to her lips, so close to him. "You have seen my future, or just a possibility in thousands".
Shiera shook her head, her silvery waves moved under the hood, her nose touched his ever so slightly.
"You are in my first memory at court. My mother pampered me and said it was time to meet the King's children, she put me in a blue and green dress that I loathed. Back then, I was so high-strung, I thought to be an abomination, thought my eyes were cursed." She scoffed humorlessly, her hand froze by the unmarred side of his face. "You were more peculiar than me, though. White hair, as white as snow, your birthmark, always the same angry shade of red, and a permanent scowl. You barely spoke, but you watched every movement in the room. Your red eyes saw everything and me. I've known you were like me, my whole life, the same way I know your future is that of my dreams."
"You have always been better with your gifts, little sister." Her body seemed to lean towards him, their knees bumped and her thigh was under Brynden's hand somehow.
"One day your sight will reach places I can't even imagine. You will visit dreamers, but you will dwell in your past. Only then, you will be as powerful as you wish to be, still you will feel as unavailing as you did as a child. I dread this day, for I know I will no longer see you."
She kissed the very corner of his lips, shy as the maiden she was. It was fleeting and uncertain, but to Brynden it held the sweetest of promises and the bitterest goodbye.
She had promptly stood and left him just before the first ray of golden light marked the pink sky.