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Summary
The mill was placed exactly between Blackwood and Bracken land, centered enough to not belong to either of them. Perhaps that was the reason it is Aeron’s favorite hiding place. Perhaps it is the reason Davos kept going back.
In the dreams he cannot dare to accept, he sinks his feet in the ocean, the water tickles his skin, and the breeze caresses his face. It is heavenly. He looks back, Davos lays peacefully on the sand, the sun shines against his skin. Nothing else exists. Aeron smiles.
In this dream, Aeron is not a Bracken, and Davos is not a Blackwood.