Roman saw right through the old raven's bullshit. He dropped the act and told it to spill everything.
"You little punk, giving orders now?"
The old raven might've had a foul mouth, but it laid it all out straight.
"We ca because the Apostle Fili called us. Only she can give us the power to talk like humans. We got hungry and couldn't help ourselves, so we raided the storeroom. That's what you walked in on."
Roman caught the key word. "Apostle? What the hell is an apostle?"
The raven's face twisted with obvious disgust. It looked at Roman like he was the dumbest creature alive.
"Who else's? Yours, obviously. Why else would you drag her back here?"
Roman glanced at Fili and Maester Tom.
Tom, still on his knees, shook his head fast—nothing to do with him.
Fili just blinked those big blue eyes and asked, "What's wrong, Lord Roman?"
Looking at her clueless, puppy-dog face, Roman didn't have the heart to push. Maybe she really didn't know.
"Fili, talk to these ravens. See if they've got anything useful. I'll have the servants build them so proper nests."
He didn't wait for protests. One flick of white fla and the whole flock got herded outside.
In a sunny room, Fili sat chatting with the ravens while Roman and Maester Tom talked next door.
"Maester Tom, these ravens yours?"
"Seven hells, my lord! These are wild birds. Every raven in the rookery is still safe and accounted for."
Roman nodded to himself. That strange blazing spark inside Fili suddenly made perfect sense.
If this was her special gift, he wondered what the Targaryens might be hiding.
"Maester Tom, go recruit those failed apprentices. I'll send for you if anything changes here. No point wasting ti standing around."
Tom thought it over, bowed, and left. Fili wasn't going anywhere with Roman watching her.
Once the maester was gone, Roman headed back to Fili's room.
What he found stopped him cold.
The girl was sitting on the floor, laughing and tossing wheat to the birds like they were old friends.
"Gray, quit hogging it all. There's plenty for everyone."
"at? Bugs? Yeah, maybe later. I don't have any right now."
"Wait, the North really has stories like that? You've all traveled that far?"
Fili was completely lost in the conversation. Roman knocked on the doorfra.
She spun around, eyes lighting up, and launched herself at him like a golden retriever.
"Lord Roman! I taught every single one of them to speak the Common Tongue! They've seen so much, and—"
Roman pressed a finger to her lips before she could keep going.
"Let handle the questions."
After a careful back-and-forth, Roman finally pieced it together.
The ravens had felt Fili's call the mont she reached Harrenhal and flown straight here. They were a special breed—only they could speak human words, and only when Fili gave them the gift. The regular ravens could only talk to her.
"Lord Roman! Why can I do this? Was it those people in my dreams? They said I'm your apostle. What does that even an?"
Roman ruffled her hair. "Who cares? Apostle, chosen one, whatever. If it's useful, that's all that matters. You did good, Fili. We just got ourselves the best ssenger service in Westeros."
He ant every word. Thirty-plus talking ravens were worth more than gold. Pure treasure.
The birds shifted under his hungry stare. The old raven spoke up first.
"Just so we're clear, we answer to Fili, not you."
"Warm nests, steady food, and a good vet to keep you healthy. Deal?"
The ravens went quiet fast. Only the old one kept grumbling under its breath.
Roman raised an eyebrow. "Sothing else?"
The old raven finally cracked. "We want strong, handso mates too!"
Roman blinked. "...Fine."
He sealed the deal on the spot. Ravens were easy. Feed them, house them, keep them healthy, and they'd work for scraps. People were the real headache.
Once everything was settled, Fili jumped up to start building the nests. Roman caught her wrist and pulled her back into the chair.
"Lord Roman?"
"You've been running yourself ragged. Even the servants get rest days. Sit. That's an order."
Fili tried to protest, but Roman poured her a cup of tea with practiced ease and set a plate of nuts between them.
She looked lost. Nobody had ever waited on her before—especially not a lord.
"Relax," Roman said, leaning back. "Just talk to . That's part of the job too."
Fili's shoulders loosened. She started sharing little stories from the last few weeks—the funny things the servants said, the way the new fields were coming in, her thoughts on the Riverlands lords.
"Lord Roman, you're nothing like the others I've seen. Most of them squeeze every copper out of the smallfolk and smile while they do it. But you... you actually want us to live better. Why?"
Roman took a slow sip of tea. "Want the pretty lie or the ugly truth?"
"Both," she said without hesitation.
He set the cup down and t her eyes. "The lie is I want my people to prosper so House Whent's na echoes across the realm. The truth is I want bigger tax rolls. Healthy, happy people work harder and pay more without complaining."
He laid his black-scaled tail across the table. "So which one do you believe?"
Fili didn't answer right away. She grabbed a cloth and started gently wiping dust from his tail.
"I think both are true," she said softly. "Because you feel safe. That's all that matters to ."
Roman laughed and flicked her forehead. "You're going to get yourself killed one day with that blind trust, you silly girl."
Fili pouted but smiled anyway. "Only around you, my lord. Everyone else can go hang."
Roman's gaze dropped to the dark circles under her eyes. His voice softened. "Even the hardest-working servants in this castle know when to rest. You've been pushing too hard. Take it easy for a few days."
Fili opened her mouth to argue. Roman cut her off.
"Argue and I'll send you away. I an it."
She wilted, cheeks puffed out, but finally nodded.
"Fine... I'll rest."
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