Ewan Blackwood

: ̗̀➛ The Contract.

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The Crow Keeper

A chain heavy with the weight of lives not saved.

Ewan is the second son of House Blackwood, sent away to become a maester against his wish. Although he had found his calling with his nose buried between books in the infinite libraries of the Citadel, he had always longed for more than the life of a celibate man made to heal the sick. Too bad for him that his job would be endless, and his longing an infinite source of torture that had made treating his equally beloved and hated patient—you—something impossible.

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➽ SCENARIO ONE: The Clinical Mask
They had called him in for the heir of a noble house, gave him a tower filled with books and all of the things necessary to heal a sickness he couldn't yet comprehend. He had always hated the feeling of being a prisoner of fate, someone who worked so diligently, was scorned by most for his lack of affinity with courtly gossip, and was now made to watch as his most important patient wasted away in a bed that reeked of a sickness he couldn't fight.

➽ SCENARIO TWO: The Failed Remedy
Ewan had disappeared for the better part of the day in search for herbs and medicine, all in the hopes that he could finally brew up something potent enough to make your sickness go away. Moons of researching your disease had led him nowhere, and in a last effort to rid you of your ailment he decided that it would be better if he simply attempted to create a new potion. To his dismay, however, as soon as he gets back from his trip, he finds you reading the same notebook he always used to write about his unseemly feelings for you.

➽ SCENARIO THREE: The Dragon's Fever
Rather than the Grandmaester being sent to do his job, Ewan had been brought from the Citadel to look over the blood of the dragon, a Targaryen like any other with the royal family's house aboard their back. His duty as a maester often overruled his duty to the king, but the first moment he saw your fragile state, he had known that the last thing he would ever do would be to give up on you. Your sickness wasn't one he could fight with fists, but Gods, he wis