(Untitled)

[theravenboy]

Bran Davies, home from Cardiff for the holidays, has had some opportunity to rest from the stresses of the fall term. It is not entirely peaceful at home, though. The Dysynni valley, some hours north of Cardiff, is much closer to the fires than Bran's university, and the people of Clwyd Farm have been grim and thoughtful lately

Comments

[creator_raven]

Raven has never, it must be said, been put off by grim or thoughtful.

But he does refrain from glittering Bran as soon he walks through the door.

Instead, he drops down from the rafters in a flurry of black feathers, human-shaped head tilting as his feet hit the floor.

"Bran."

Black eyes are bright and amused as he looks at Bran.

"Things go?"

[theravenboy]

If anything, when Bran sees Raven he is less amused than before. Bran has learned certain things since the last time the two spoke.

"Raven," Bran says, looking at Raven through cold golden eyes. "So kind of you to come and say hello."

[creator_raven]

Raven laughs.

"Perhaps."

He tilts his head a little farther, black eyes wide and bright.

"But I am, I think, not so good at kind. So."

[theravenboy]

"I did not expect that of you," Bran answers, although perhaps he did expect kindness from Raven. He was not watchful enough. "You are Wild, after all. I did expect that you would be worthy of trust."

[creator_raven]

Raven does not stop smiling.

"There are ways in which I am, I think."

He tilts his head a little farther, but in the opposite direction this time.

"No one is dead, yes?"

Beat.

"So."

[theravenboy]

"No one is dead," Bran agrees, standing as straight as he can, a mortal man without magic facing an ancient trickster. "But do you know how very close we came?"

[creator_raven]

Raven's grin brightens, turns sharper.

"Yes."

Beat.

"It is the trouble with choice."

[theravenboy]

"Choice, is it, now?" Bran answers the grin with an even stare. "Whose choice, for what? Yours, to come very near to killing Moiraine? And my mother, and myself, and everyone in that land."

[creator_raven]

Raven snorts.

"Yours, too, I think. It is a question of third times, yes?"

[theravenboy]

My choices. Third times. All the important things come in threes, Bran knows, but he does not understand at once what Raven is talking about. Then slowly the memories come to him, one after the other.

Bran chose the first time on a Midsummer day (If it is a matter for men now, as you say, then men are going to have a hard time of it and perhaps there are things, later, that I might be able to do to help) and the second in spring at Milliways (My lord, my lord, I want you to meet Owen Davies, my father). The third choice came after Raven and Galadan had come and gone from the Summer Country (My name is Bran Davies, my lord).

"Third times," Bran says softly. He was offered the choice between his mortal father and his father Arthur three times, and three times he chose Owen Davies, and at the third all power left him, so that he would only ever be a mortal man. "Raven, I am not sure I understand. What are my three choices to do with your coming with Galadan to the Summer Country?"

[creator_raven]

"Whim and necessity, yes?"

Raven's smile goes crooked, if only for a moment.

"Also I teach. You were, perhaps, not so much the only one with lessons that needed learning."

[theravenboy]

Bran stops still.

"You were teaching Galadan."

[creator_raven]

Raven's smile is very bright.

Bran is quick. It is rarely a bad thing, that.

"I help where I can."

Beat.

"So."

[theravenboy]

Bran's lip quirks in involuntary humour. "I would have preferred you to help in some other place and time."

[creator_raven]

"It is often so."

Raven's grin quirks again.

"But you have learned that, too."