Chapter 45: The Raven's Call

Spring, 301 AC

The wind howled through the ancient halls of Dragonstone, rattling the black stone walls like the breath of some long-dead dragon. The sky above was dark and brooding, heavy clouds swirling like omens of the storm to come. In the heart of the ancient castle, Aemon Targaryen stood before a great table carved in the shape of Westeros, his gaze steady and resolute.

The time had come.

The Raven's Declaration

Aemon dipped the quill into the ink, the scratch of pen against parchment the only sound in the chamber. His message would reach every corner of Westeros, from the frozen North to the sun-scorched sands of Dorne. It was more than a declaration—it was the unveiling of a truth long buried beneath layers of lies and blood.

To the Lords and Ladies of Westeros,

I am Aemon Targaryen, son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. My parents were wed in secret, bound by love and honor, not the lies you have been fed by those who usurped the throne. My mother, Lyanna, was no kidnapped maiden—she chose my father, and together they sought to bring peace to the realm.

When the Usurper's Rebellion plunged the realm into chaos, my parents paid the ultimate price. My father was slain on the Trident, and my mother died giving birth to me in the Tower of Joy. With her dying breath, she entrusted me to her brother, Eddard Stark, to protect me from those who would see me dead for the crime of my blood.

To protect me, Lord Stark gave me the name Jon Snow, raising me as his bastard son at Winterfell. He hid me in plain sight, knowing the truth would put both our lives in danger. But the truth cannot remain buried forever.

Now, the time has come for the truth to rise from the shadows. I claim my birthright as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. I am both Targaryen and Stark, fire and ice, dragon and wolf. I call upon all lords and ladies of Westeros to stand with me.

To those who bend the knee, I offer peace and prosperity. To those who resist, I promise fire and blood.

The realm has suffered under the yoke of false kings and corrupt rulers. It is time for a new dawn, one that will unite Westeros and prepare it for the true threat that lies beyond—the Long Night is coming, and only together can we stand against it.

I am Aemon Targaryen, and I will reclaim the Iron Throne.

Aemon set the quill down, his heart pounding in his chest. The message was complete. He summoned his maesters, instructing them to send ravens to every great house in the realm.

As the black wings took flight into the stormy skies, Aemon turned to Daenerys, Sansa, and Missandei, who stood silently behind him.

"It has begun," he murmured.

King's Landing in Chaos

In King's Landing, the arrival of Aemon's raven sent shockwaves through the Red Keep. The Small Council convened in urgent session, the scrolls bearing Aemon's seal laid out before them.

Tywin Lannister read the message in silence, his expression unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold and measured.

"The boy speaks of blood and fire as if they are banners to be proud of," he said, rolling the parchment shut. "But he forgets that Westeros has seen dragons before—and dragons can die."

Kevan Lannister exchanged a glance with Grand Maester Pycelle. "What shall we do, Lord Tywin?"

Tywin's gaze hardened. "We prepare for war. The Iron Throne will not be surrendered to a bastard with a dragon."

But even as Tywin spoke, unease rippled through the court. The truth of Aemon's parentage was undeniable, and his connection to House Stark complicated the fragile alliances that held the realm together.

The Riverlands Stir

In the war-torn Riverlands, the news of Aemon's claim spread like wildfire. The lords who had once followed Robb Stark saw a glimmer of hope in Aemon's words. He was of Stark blood—the nephew of Eddard Stark and cousin to Robb. The betrayal at the Red Wedding still burned in their hearts, and Aemon's promise of vengeance against House Frey was a call many could not ignore.

Lord Tytos Blackwood of Raventree Hall stood before his bannermen, the raven's message clutched in his hand.

"The wolf and the dragon are one," he declared. "And with Aemon Targaryen, we shall see justice for Robb Stark and the treachery of the Freys."

In Riverrun, the remnants of House Tully debated their next move. Though their strength was diminished, the prospect of a Targaryen-Stark alliance reignited old loyalties.

The North Trembles

In Winterfell, now under the control of Roose Bolton, the arrival of Aemon's raven sent a chill deeper than any northern winter. Roose read the message with a stoic expression, but inwardly, he felt a rare flicker of fear.

Aemon was Stark blood. His connection to Eddard Stark and the memory of Robb would rally the northern houses against the Boltons' tenuous hold on power.

Roose turned to his bastard son, Ramsay Snow, who lounged nearby with a cruel smile.

"Prepare for war," Roose commanded. "If Aemon Targaryen comes north, we will meet him with steel and fire."

But even Roose Bolton knew that steel alone might not be enough against a man with dragons.

The Storm Gathers

Across Westeros, the realm braced itself for the storm to come. Aemon's ravens had done more than announce his claim—they had reignited old loyalties, stirred ancient hatreds, and set the pieces in motion for a war that would shake the very foundations of the realm.

In Dragonstone, Aemon watched the horizon, his heart heavy with both hope and dread. The game of thrones had begun in earnest, but the true war—the war for the dawn—still loomed on the distant horizon.

"Fire and blood," he whispered, his gaze fixed on the west. "For the realm, and for the future."