Chapter 16: Chapter 14
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Damian Blackheart.
I was talking with Rex about the likely reshuffling of the squad and possible actions in Grieftown when we were interrupted by a servant who insistently asked me to come to Lord Eddard Stark.
I was surprised at first, but then it dawned on me why he might have summoned me.
I met Ned Stark on the porch that overlooks the training field where I had tested Snowball's skills that morning.
Eddard Stark looked to be about thirty-five years old, though based on the book, he is thirty-four at this point. He has the typical "Stark" appearance of an elongated face, dark hair and grey eyes. John has the same, only his features are a little softer thanks to his father. Gerda told me drunkenly last night that when she looked at John, she thought he was a "pretty girl", but when she looked closely, she realised he was a boy. Rhaegar has done his son a favour....
Eddard has a close-cropped beard with a slight grey streak. And his dark grey eyes are the only thing that reflects his emotions. According to his enemies and detractors who walk this world, he is a man with cold eyes that reflect his icy heart. But nevertheless, his kinfolk he loves. And hopefully a lot.
Eddard Stark is known for his justice and honour, his family members and cronies consider him a kind man, but some believe these are signs of coldness and contempt for those around him. And that's probably what pisses me off the most about him. He's overly arrogant and condescending. "Honest Ned Stark", which has pissed me off for so many years from the moment I read the first chapters about him until now. A fool for thinking in some strange and rather illogical categories that Jon Arryn has indoctrinated him with. I wouldn't be surprised if the old man was deliberately making Robert into a mindless, drunken breeding bull on purpose, too. I don't believe that man could not have reeducated Baratheon and instilled the right thoughts in him for good during his mentorship at Eagle's Nest. And from Robert's accession until his death, he was the de facto ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. He even chose a wife for Robert....
So this "honour, dignity, truth" thing is just the words of either fools or the greatest of impersonators.
- Lord Stark. - I put on a friendly smile, trying not to betray my true feelings for him. - It's good to see you in good health. Your servant tells me you wanted to see me?
- He did. - He answered glumly. - Why do you want to see him?
- Erm... Who?
- My son Jon Snow has just finished talking to me, or rather begging me to let him go south with you to serve as your squire. Why do you want my son? He's just a bastard with no prospects. You'll get nothing of substance for having him by your side.
- Lord Stark. - I never took the smile off my face. - I'm afraid you must have misunderstood me. I suggested your son come with me because there was no other better fate for a bastard. He wanted to go to the Wall before I did.
- What?!
- You didn't know? That's odd. He was talking to me about the Night's Watch and how he'd be going there soon, and I thought you wanted him to go. So I thought I'd save the boy from freezing his bollocks in the north at the age of fourteen. He hasn't seen life, but he's driven to that ice block by circumstance and even, I think, by some people. Do you really hate your bastard so much?
- He is my blood! - exclaimed Stark fervently. - And I love him.
- And I strongly hope so. I pity him. He unfortunately did not have the opportunity to become a squire, as I did in my time, and then a knight. After I became a knight, went travelling at my father's insistence and started my own mercenary band, and now I am a lord. And was by the laws of Westeros only a bastard of an "aged ferret," as they say of my father. You have a bastard of House Stark blood, and he looks more like a Stark than your eldest son, no offence to you. But he feels caged here, leprous and unwanted. I saw myself in him when I was his age. So I decided to give him a chance. Besides, he's pretty good with a gun, he's got a good education, and he's young and strong. Excellent qualities. And his background doesn't matter to me. I have almost a third of my men are bastards, a fifth are children of minor lords, the rest are either former peasants and fishermen or from Essos. And everyone in the squad is equal. If he proves himself, he will earn respect and his place in this world. If he doesn't, he'll be a simple fighter or squire.
Stark was confused. I told him almost honestly and almost the whole truth. He can sense lies, you can tell. That he was tricked in King's Landing is another matter, and others are masters of it. I, on the other hand, did not hide my emotions, save for my irritation towards him.
- Thank you for your honesty and for the information Lord Blackheart. I didn't mean to offend you in any way," Ned Stark said. - It's just that I was surprised by my son's decision. I think... I'll let him go with you, if you haven't changed your mind about taking him in.
- I'm glad to hear it. I already have a number of northerners among my men, so I don't think he'll be so lonely with us.
- I hope so," Quiet Wolf muttered. - When do you intend to leave for your domain?
- The same time the king leaves Winterfell. - I answered. - Maybe a few days earlier. We'll go by sea. It's quicker.
- From White Harbor.
- Yes, Lord Stark.
- Good. - Stark's got something on his mind. - Have you been working out today, Lord Blackheart?
- No, why? Would you like to spar with swords? - I smiled even wider.
- Yes. It would be good for me to warm up.
- Then I'd be happy to keep you company. - I nodded and followed Stark.
I could use a little exercise, and I wondered what level and what techniques Ned Stark had. Besides, he's also interested in my skills, I suppose, and wants to see if what they say about my talents as a fighter is true.
We drew our regular tournament swords, we weren't going to kill each other. It was too early for Stark to die, he had not yet agreed to his dear old friend's proposal. So everything was pretty peaceful and decent, relatively.
For about twenty minutes we raced sweat on each other, but we didn't speed up much, and it could be called "probing the ground" rather than fighting.
The Tsarekiller caught us in the act.
- Have you, Lord Stark, grown so old that you can't knock a sword out of the hands of yesterday's squire? Ser Erthur Dane must be turning in his grave. - his voice was full of mockery at both of us.
We moved away from each other without a word and looked at this local Baskov, who was a Lannister by passport.
Jaime was tall enough, about my height, with golden hair and sparkling green eyes and a smile that made me want to take a boulder and drive it through his wimpy face. A fucking Kingsguard.
- Ser Jaime. - Stark nodded briefly and politely. - I see you decided to take a walk today. Who's guarding the king now?
- Ser Baristan. - Jaime answered and stepped closer. - You're very worried about the king, aren't you? He's in Winterfell, your castle and under your protection. Can he be in danger here?
- Kings can be in danger of death anywhere: in their bed, from food and drink, or from the sword of the one who is supposed to guard them. - Ned frowned.
Jaime Lannister frowned and his jowls flared. Things were heating up.
- Ser Baristan will protect the king, as will I! - Jaime finally pulled himself together. - We have plenty of strength, Lord Stark. You can see for yourself. If Lord Blackheart doesn't mind, I can demonstrate it to you right now.
- Lord Blackheart, I hope you won't be offended if we postpone our fight for a while.
- I am a patient man, so I can make way for your opponent Ser Jaime. - I smiled at him, and walked over to Jaime and handed him my tournament sword.
- Thank you, Ser Damian, but I think Lord Stark and I can fight, and real ones at that. I hope Lord Stark and I agree here.
- I don't care what weapons I fight you with, Ser Jaime.
I walked on, silently, and sat with my feet on the stairs, watching the two old foes fight. I wondered if they'd ever fought against each other before, at least in practice sparring.
From behind came the familiar heavy footsteps and smoother, but still with a slight noise from the armour. It was Robert Baratheon and Ser Baristan Selmy.
- Finally I get to see these two fight. - patted himself contentedly on his barrel belly our glorious king.
- Your Grace! - I stood up and bowed.
- Oh, come on, Blackheart. - Robert waved me off and sat down beside me. - Let me watch Ned kick Jaime's arse.
Both men noticed the king, but pretended he wasn't there.
They drew closer and crossed blades for the first time, taking a couple of swings and lunges and moving away a couple of paces before coming together again.
- Ned defeated Erthur Dane in battle. - half-drunk Robert spoke to me. - I wish I'd seen it. Or wasn't at the time. It must have been a glorious battle.
- It might have been, Your Grace. - I nodded as I continued to watch the fighting styles of each of these illustrious men. - I was just a boy then, but it was the talk of the Twins. They talked about a lot of things there.
- Your father likes to talk. - the king grinned. - He's very cunning, he thinks first, then he does, and he does a lot of thinking and waiting.
- As befits a good lord. - I smiled.
- Perhaps. But I still don't like him. You're different. You remind me of someone, but I can't figure out who. Well, fuck it. That's what I'm here for. I wanted to invite Ned to the hunt tomorrow, so you're going too, since you caught my eye.
- I'd be honoured.
- If I had a drink every time I heard that phrase, I'd be drunk in the first year of my reign, and Stannis would be king now, and there'd be no jousting tournaments or brothels.
- That would be sad and very sad. - I smiled sincerely. Indeed, Stanis, with all the king's power, is a very undesirable figure. - It's scary to imagine what my boys would do without those two things. They'd probably drink themselves to death or start learning to read and write.
- Ha-ha-ha-ha. Literacy mercenaries? You're a funny bloke. Eh!
Meanwhile, the fight dragged on. To my surprise, the odds were evenly matched, given that Ned Stark had sparred with me before. It seems Jaime is not the most dangerous opponent in the Seven Kingdoms as he thinks. The book doesn't really convey all the skill and experience the characters have. So I think that if Ned Stark had a little more experience at the Tower of Joy, he would have been able to defeat the Sword of Dawn in a fair fight.
And besides, I was beginning to suspect that if I had faced Jaime, I had a good chance of coming out of the duel alive and victorious. And if I used all my arsenal and tricks, Lannister would have a very slim chance of surviving.
Parallel to my judgement, I overhear what Ser Baristan and Baratheon are talking about. They discuss the fact that Ned Stark has not lost his grip, though he has aged. Apparently he exercises his sword every day. To which Robert sighed heavily. He hadn't picked up his hammer in a long time.
The fight dragged on, each of the combatants was already covered with sweat, but they did not want to give up. Finally, Robert couldn't take it anymore:
- All right, enough sweat, you can finish next time. Come on, Ned, let's get a drink. I want to talk to you. - Strange, I thought he wanted to see who was the stronger of the two.
With displeasure, both Jaime and Eddard pulled away from each other and put their swords back into their scabbards. Soon I was alone there, the others gone, and I began to analyse the Stark/Lannister fight.
Sandor Clegane caught me doing it.
- Why the fuck are you sitting on your arse here? - he asked unhappily.
- And why the fuck aren't you watching your princess's arse? - I asked him back.
I should explain that I really found a common language with someone, but with Dog I really found a common language. He is a rather pragmatic and down-to-earth person with his own rules and views on life. I liked him from both the book and the series. He and I got to know each other personally on the first day of the journey from the Twins to Winterfell and we even had practice fights along the way, often drinking together when he didn't have to look after the little bastard and joking around. Anyway, if he wasn't a Lannister man, I'd suggest he come over to me. But as it is, for now, he has neither the thought nor the ability to leave the Lannisters, simply not.
- Joffrey's precious arse is safe with his mother. So I can safely go out and get drunk and fuck some whores. Have you been to any of the local brothels?
- There aren't many, but there's enough for you and me in a winter town.
- Good thing I didn't have to bribe you like I did last time, like some chick.
- You seem angry today, do you have a headache? The local girls will fix your head and your head, hehehe.
- Sometimes you talk more than any woman, but you get more. I'm glad you're a man, otherwise I'd have to listen to all the crap that would come out of your mouth.
- So be glad I'm not a woman. By the way, just the two of us?
- Which of your guys are still available? - he wondered.
- Rex and Tom should be free.
- Well, bring them along. Tom's a good singer. And you and your "ditties" keep me awake at least.
- Well, there's another admirer of my talent. Rex doesn't appreciate them for some reason.
- Because he's one of the few normal men with brains and common sense, unlike his idiot brother.
- Who became a lord. - I smiled smugly.
- Go fuck yourself.
- If I find a good bouncy arse, I'll go in there, but alas. - and spread my hands.
- Look for these two, I'll wait by the gate.
- All right. I'll be quick.
We split up, and I was heading for the stables, where Tom was supposed to be.
But on the way, almost reaching the stables, I noticed a curious tail.
- Shouldn't you, Lady Arya, be out embroidering with the princess and your sister right now?
From around the corner peeked out the short figure of an eleven-year-old dark-haired girl in a dress with the Stark crest. She was the only one, save Bran, of Ned Stark's legitimate children who actually looked like a Stark.
- How would you know, Lord Blackheart? - She frowned.
- I'm a good listener.
- Will you take Jon with you to the South? To King's Landing?
- Yes, I'll take him South, but not to the capital, to Sorrowful. It's my little town, given to me personally by the King on merit. But then I will visit the capital, and of course John, if he doesn't change his mind about being my squire, will go there too.
- Will you make him a knight? - she asked hopefully.
- If he is worthy of it. I believe a man should get what he is worthy of.
She thought for a moment, and then asked again:
- Is it true that Gerda Barley and those archers are full warriors in your troop?
- Yes.
- And any woman can become a warrior? - Her eyes lit up with fire and hope. Hmm. I doubt Ned Stark would let his youngest come with me.
- Not just any woman, but one who can and will devote herself to the craft. Someone who's willing to work hard and train every day. Not every man can do it, let alone a woman or a young maiden.
- And if I--
- I doubt Lord Stark would let his rightful youngest favourite daughter come with me. Living with me is dangerous. So think better of your future, Lady Arya.
- I am not a lady! - She frowned, which brought an involuntary smile to my face.
- That remains to be proven. In the meantime, if you have no other questions, I'll take my leave and find my friends. They and I have important business to attend to today, and alas, their importance I cannot ignore.
She's a funny girl, though. Probably the only proper Stark I like.
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