Chapter 44: Chapter 40
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- Jhaerys Targaryen is dead! - reiterated Damian Blackheart's most horrifying words to Thoros of Myr. - I could not help him, and the Lord of Light took him to his chambers. And his dragon flew somewhere to the east.
Blackheart's stern face froze. Not a muscle moved, and neither did he. Not a single word did he utter after Thoros' phrase.
Oberyn gazed into Blackheart's eyes and saw every emotion of which a man was capable simmering in them. But he also saw the flames of rage blazing in them. It was the biggest and strongest feeling Blackheart was feeling right now.
Oberyn knew that this feeling could drive the already former Hand of the fallen pretender to the crown to his grave. He knew that Jaheiris was like a younger brother to him, there was much that bound them together, the Prince of Dornish even speculated that perhaps there was more than friendship between the two. Herold Dane had joked to him recently that both of them chose very combative and masculine maidens to bed....
He had dismissed it at the time, but now he was ready to believe it, seeing how Blackheart was bearing the news.
- How did it happen? - Blackheart asked through gritted teeth, glancing first at Ser Mendon Moore, who was Lord Commander under Jaehaerys. And then he looked at Thoros. - How?! You cretins were supposed to be with him to protect him from everything. You had Rex's men with you, you had a fucking dragon! So how do you tell me you fucked this king to the unknown, huh?!
- He had two causes of death. - Mendon answered calmly, though Oberyn saw a semblance of shame in his eyes. - The first was poison. When he had helped Lord Bracken capture the Keys, Lord Bracken had proposed a feast to celebrate the taking of the castle. At that feast, one of the servants loyal to the Lannisters slipped the Fox's Tears to Jaheiris, and he nearly died, but held his fever for several days. Amazingly, he fought for life. He never wanted to leave this world, and we rejoiced at such a feeling in our king. But we missed your brother Faceless, who, under the guise of our maester, drove a dagger into Jaehaerys' heart. Thoros and I could only twist it as, right before our eyes, Jaehaerys' body abruptly ignited and caught fire. And our dead king was reduced to ash in seconds. The Faceless One in our hands fell like a puppet, dead, though he was already immobilised and unable to drink the poison or kill himself with a weapon. Yet he died the moment Jhaerys Targaryen's body crumbled to ashes.
- A day after that, a raven from King's Landing arrived. - Bracken entered the conversation. - Aegon had taken the city and executed every Lannister there. Our forces in turn executed and slaughtered all the Lannisters within the Western Lands. This house is now destroyed. With news that our king was dead, the Lannisters had fallen, and of the legitimate claimants, only Aegon was left to negotiate with, your father was the first to kneel. Then there were the remaining lords of the West. The Vale and the North are clear enough, though they've resisted longer and I think they're still at odds over who should be recognised as king. They're even at odds with each other about who sits in the Eagle's Nest ...
- It doesn't matter. - growled Damian. - Fucking gods! Fucking Faceless Ones! Where the fuck are you, Lion of the Night, when I need you?! - shouted Blackheart into the sky.
Everyone was silent and just stared at the cornered Blackheart.
- I understand you, Lord Blackheart, as no one else can. - Connington suddenly broke the silence. - I was in your shoes once. But somehow I managed to cope with the hardships that came upon me. And you're going through the same thing now. But I ask you, for your own good, to surrender your sword and follow us to King's Landing. Your life as a politician, though lost, is not over, and I assure you you still have friends and debtors at court.
Blackheart glared sharply at Connington. Which made him tense.
- Did you know Lord Connington that there is an old proverb: "As long as a warrior has his sword in his hand, he has not yet lost the battle?".
- Damian, don't be daft. I don't give a fuck about another king dying. - Sandor Clegane suddenly decided to get through to him. - They die like flies anyway, you've seen that in the last few years. You won't be lost. If they wanted to kill you like a dog, they would have done it long ago. And this trial that's being planned, well, fuck it. You've been through this before, the way you fucked Renly once.
Berrick, Loras, Mendon and Martin Rivers tried to say something to him, but Blackheart wasn't listening, he silently drew his sword from its sheath and looked at him with a look of cold determination.
Immediately all the Kingsguard and Lord Bracken immediately drew their swords, though not willingly.
John Connington did nothing.
- You seem to misunderstand something. I don't give a damn who's against me or how many men he has. If I set a goal, I always go for it, no matter what. Well, since you're all against me, it's even more interesting.
He gripped his sword more comfortably and miraculously deflected a couple of arrows into his chest and neck, but missed five others. Two pierced his right leg, stabbing him in the thigh and shin, two more in both arms, and the fifth in the back. Immediately someone threw a spear at Damian, but Blackheart managed to duck to the side, but immediately dropped his sword, and when he tried to reach for it, his left arm was again pierced by iron, this time by a dagger thrown by Mendon. Loras and Martin approached the former Hand and took the last of his weapons from him.
His wounds hurt, he had broken the arrow shaft when he fell, but with some more tearing of the wounds, he was losing a lot of blood.
- Tie him up and deliver him to the maester. - Connington commanded.
Already losing consciousness Blackheart only saw his soldiers, mistresses and "friends", even if he did not believe in sincere friendship, who either just stood and watched it or helped the "Aegons".
Blackheart had come to his senses no longer surrounded by an army of Spacers, not in that camp, but in the Golden Tooth. They were all moving rather slowly and it wasn't until the third week of the journey that they reached that castle. Damian was weakened, he was sure it wasn't just the wounds, but most likely the sleeping pills they had been smeared with. Yes and now Blackheart was severely weak, he could feel the difference, between normal wounds and poisoning. He was being held on something to keep him from escaping or hurting someone.
He was in the dungeon of the Golden Tooth. Alone, in the dark and dank dungeon, five guards stood near the bars. Each wore the cota of a different house: the Targaryens, the Conningtons, the Tyrells, the Martells, and the Carstarks. A little later, he learnt from the guardsmen's conversations that a little further down the corridor sat someone from the Kingsguard with a dozen more fighters from the Golden Swords.
He was brought food and drink three times a day, and a waste bucket was brought in and out. Once every day or two the Silent Sister and the Maester came to him and bathed him and made sure he was healthy.
They were silent to any questions, as were the guards. Soon Damian gave up trying to get anyone to talk.
He spent what appeared to be thirteen days in the dungeon of the Golden Tooth. After that, they travelled to the capital.
The journey was much faster this time, for the number of travellers had been halved. And the huge useless wagon of Spacious was not with them.
At the end of the third month of the 300th year of W.E., they arrived in King's Landing.
He rode in a chariot behind a line of noble riders consisting of: Oberyn Martell, Randil Tarly, Mace Tyrell, Jon Connington, and Lord Craighall, who Damian had heard had been appointed Guardian of the West.
He was on a golden chariot chained to it with golden chains. He was like a "trophy" to them. Only these freaks, as Blackheart put it to himself, had not defeated him, rather betrayed him and piled on in a cluster. But Damian's ego was comforted by the fact that no matter how they put it, he was still invincible on the battlefield.
Though he still remembered his brother's words in Mourning Town, that Damian could win any battle but lose the war. And so it had happened. No matter how hard he tried, and still in politics and intrigue, he was outmanoeuvred by more experienced players.
After leading him through the streets of the capital, Blackheart was placed right in the Red Castle.
Both his hands and feet were chained to a heavy belt.
He was led by two men of oriental appearance, perhaps even Dothraki, two heads taller than he was, though Blackheart was not a small boy, but his feet did not reach the ground by a palm.
Around them were four of the Kingsguard: Mendon Moore, Loras Tyrell, Thoros of Myr, and Jorah Mormont.
Ahead of them walked the same 'five victors' accompanied by their squires.
Behind Blackheart and the Guardsmen was another small procession of various troop commanders, lords and nobles.
He was led straight to the Throne Room, where King Aegon the Sixth of the Seven Kingdoms, who hid under the Targaryen name, sat on the glorious Iron Throne.
He looked to be about sixteen years old, with short white hair like the Valyrians, purple eyes, and a thin but still smarmy face. He was dressed in the colours of House Targaryen, red and black, and standing beside him was a tall man holding a sword that many in Blackheart's army and elsewhere spoke of as the Black Flame. The sword that Damon Blackfire carried with him, the sword that belonged to the first king of the Seven Kingdoms, even if not all the kingdoms were under dragon rule then.
- You stand before the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, Aegon Targaryen, sixth of that name, King of the Andals, the Roynars and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms. - Came the voice of the herald.
Damian looked around and strode his gaze over the pandemonium that had formed.
Nearly five hundred people were in the Hall by the look of it, seven more Royal Guards in front of the throne, beside the throne with Aegon was his beautiful bride Margaery Tyrell with bright blue eyes, a waterfall of brown hair in a soft green coloured dress that was quite open and bold for a lady and certainly for the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
On either side of the royal couple stood their counsellors, John Connington, Varys, Maester Marvin, who had replaced Pycelle after his death. Also Mace Tyrell, who took the place of Master of the Moneta, Paxter Redwyne, who took the place of Master of the Ships, Doran Martell, who became Master of the Law.
On either side of Damian were the noble lords and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms. And were gathered here were everyone possible.
Virtually all the lords and knights of the Crownlands, most of the Lords of the Stormlands among them Blackheart noted Gentry, Berrick, Larry Shortarm, Mary Mertins, Lord Theon Tandbury, Lord Estermont, Selwyn Tart and his daughter, the Errol families, Penrose, Selmy and a number of others. Some of them looked guiltily at him, some did not look at all, and some made fun of his situation.
There were a few Lords of the West, all former temporary vassals of Jaehaerys, Lord Crakehole was there too, who was already smiling slightly at him, and among the Lords of the West were some new people, former gold swords, fugitives who had gained lands not only there, but in various parts of the Seven Kingdoms.
The Lords of the Vale and the Vale were probably in full attendance. Dorne was represented by Doran's heirs, the Serpents, among whom Damian noticed a tired and tortured Obara, as well as a dozen houses of the driest region of the Seven Kingdoms. On the right side stood the Northmen, the Ironborn, and the Riverlands. The Ironborn looked at him only slightly and without much sympathy or hatred. Victarion now led the Iron Islands as Lord Reaper. His father, who looked at him glumly and with some judgement, his relatives, some of his former men, the northern lords and ladies who looked at him with regret and some with interest, his wife Sansa Stark, who looked not at him but at Willas Tyrell, it seemed. This only made Damian smile cheerfully.
But it wasn't even this in the Northmen's camp that caught Blackheart's attention. It was the fact that behind his wife stood the one he thought was dead-Catelyn Stark herself. Alive and unharmed. And she wasn't like a half-dead corpse resurrected with the Kiss of Life. She was alive!
- Lord Blackheart! - the herald brought him out of his musings. - Do you even listen to what is being said to you? - asked the same herald.
- It seems I've been looking a little too closely at the one I thought long dead, like the glorious King Aegon the First.
- Your mother-in-law is alive and well, Lord Blackheart. - Varys replied with a smile and in his usual sweet manner. - Lady Catelyn was languishing in the dungeons of Red Castle on Lannister orders. She was to be in due course either the consort of Lord Bolton, who gave his soul to the gods in the assault, or a bargaining chip in the negotiations with her children. But fate decreed otherwise.
- Hmm. My brother reported her dead to me. - Blackheart's cheekbones flared. - Apparently someone either lied or didn't tell me the truth in their reports.
- To be honest, I didn't know about Lady Caitlin either, my lord. - admitted the Spider. - It was also news to us. But very pleasant.
- For me, too.
- But not to me Rivers! - Tully's ex threw in sharply. - You tricked my daughter into marrying you.
- Easy Lady Caitlin. - snorted disdainfully at Blackheart. - First of all, I am Blackheart, and secondly, the initiative to marry your daughter came not from me, but from her and Jaehaerys. I had no intention of becoming Guardian of the North, but planned to propose either Lord Karstark or one of the Manderleys, or at the very least the Ambers. I had very different plans for my marriage. Or rather, that is, if I had ever thought of marrying. Marriage didn't really appeal to me.
Tally narrowed her lips into a thin white stripe, but remained silent.
- Enough! - Aegon cut them short. - 'If you wish Lady Catelyn, you may speak to your son-in-law later. You are here for another reason Lord Blackheart.
- And what reason is that? - Damian smirked.
- It disturbed me greatly when you called me Blackfire. Rebellion against the rightful king is punishable by beheading," the boy said. - said the boy. - I had originally intended to have you executed as a traitor. But then my wise counsellors told me that perhaps you had been misled by the Lannisters' misguided calculations and rumours. And yet you were willing to serve law and justice. You were elevated to lordship by Robert Baratheon for bravery and knightly honour, and became his vassal bannerman. You earned that honour, then you came back to the side of justice when you swore an oath to Stannis rather than the lying and despicable Lannisters. I can't agree with so many rights to the throne, but my clan aside, he had more than Renly and the Lannisters. You fought at your suzerain's side with honour and valour. To the last, as everyone I've spoken to says of you. After his death, you supported his heir, Shireen Baratheon. The poor child died, but you moved on in the line of succession, though you could have defected to the Lannister side, I know Lord Tywin's offer was tempting to anyone. But you supported it, despite the reputation my Targaryen grandfather provided us. You served the rightful Targaryen with honour and great zeal, even though he was second in line of succession, but you considered him the only legitimate heir. And I respect your decision. During the time you served your monarchs you never once dishonoured them, never once betrayed them, never once lost a battle they sent you into. When you were by their side, they were safe. And I confess frankly I admire you and am grateful. Amory Lorch and Grigor Clegane fell by your hand, avenging my mother and sister, as well as many Lannisters and their vassals, and you hastened their natural downfall. And so I invite you to bend the knee to me. You will be made Commander of the Gold Cloaks, which means a seat on my Small Council, and I will give you back your lands and your title. It is true that because your marriage to Lady Sansa was not according to the rules of the Seven and was not in accordance with the ways of the North, and because there is no consent from Lady Sansa's only parent, you will not be a Guardian of the North or her husband. But you can marry whoever you want.
- What of my men? - Blackheart asked.
- His Grace asks you for one thing and you dare ignore it? - Tyrell raged. - 'You are an ingrate...
- I care little what happens to me. I'm ready for whatever fate throws at me. I wonder what has become of my men. I don't see Gerda Barley, Ser Varick Hawk, Daren One-Eyed, Ser Asgen Barry, Ser Marik, Tormund the Giant Death, none of the Tennes, Mia Stone, Vel, my brother and grandfather... Where are they?
- As far as I know, your brother and grandfather, along with Ser Maric, have been missing since your capture. - Aegon replied. - Ser Hawke and Ser Barry are somewhere in the capital, but they are not supposed to be here, they are knights, but of low birth and not lords, even though Hawke was favoured by you and my late brother. Gerda Barley has been given to her kin in the North. Daren One-Eyed is also with the two aforementioned sires, Mia Stone and the wildling Vel are somewhere in the wagon with other wildlings. Tormund is busy settling his men in the Riverlands and the King's Lands, and the Tenns did not wish to swear an oath to me and are now rebelling in the mountains and forests of the Riverlands and the Westlands. - And he smiled at the end. - Do you care for your friends and vassals?
- Any knight, lord or king should care for his followers no matter what. - The scarlet-eyed man shrugged. - We are responsible for those we have tamed.
- What an interesting phrase I will remember it: "We are responsible for those we have tamed!".
- Just another folk wisdom.
- You have heard the answer to your question, but still I am not interested in your questions and desires, but in the answer to MY question! - snorted Aegon irritably.
Blackheart closed his eyes and sighed heavily, squared his shoulders and prepared to speak, but the Spider interrupted him:
- Your Grace. I apologise that your servant intrudes when you are waiting for an important answer. But I see that Lord Blackheart has not yet recovered from the many wounds he sustained in his fierce battles with the Lannisters, and there are signs of fever. And that's not to mention that recent events have taken their toll on him. Perhaps we should give him some time to rest. Seven days, I think, would be enough. After all, you're getting married to your fiancée in seven days. I think it will be another sign from above that the gods favour you and another gift. For such a loyal knight and commander to the throne would be a welcome and sincere gift.
- I agree with Lord Varys. - Connington seconded him. - Lord Blackheart is clearly tired from the road, so he did not even greet his king properly. He's just confused in his thoughts. Show mercy and consideration for this man.
- Hm. - Aegon looked at Blackheart more calmly and again with a smile. - My advisers are right. In my eagerness to see you, I have indeed overlooked many things. Take Lord Blackheart away. He has much to think about and much to rest. And I hope to see you at my wedding as a guest and loyal vassal.
Damian was surprised by this course of events, but remained silent. He was led away from the Throne Room, but not to the chambers, but to the dungeons of the Red Castle dungeon.
He was freed from his golden chains and fastened to the wall with ordinary ones.
Blackheart only let out a chuckle, which earned him the displeasure of his jailers. They left him alone with his thoughts.
He sat in the lotus position and thought about many things.
According to his internal clock, about five hours had passed, perhaps a little more, when the doors to his dungeon opened again.
His visitor was a eunuch he already knew well. It was Varys.
- Did you personally bring me the chowder and the bucket for my need? - Damian laughed. - I didn't realise I was so honoured here.
- I did bring you food, and after I leave you will indeed have your chains removed and a bucket brought to you. - Varys answered him.
On a small stump in front of him the Spider placed a tray with a mug of wine, a bowl of meat and potatoes and a couple of pieces of bread.
- Thank you. Why did the Master of the Whisperers himself visit me? And why did you postpone my 'answer'? - Damian questioned, leaning closer to Varys and looking him straight in the eye.
- Because I and I think half the court realised what you wanted to answer, and I wanted to keep you from a damaging answer. I guess when I ordered you to drink certain tinctures to weaken your body, my men overdid my task and you probably aren't thinking clearly now after all. Though perhaps not even my subordinates are to blame here, but the death of your friend and King Jaehaerys and the disobedience of your soldiers.
- My soldiers and even my vassals acted wisely. - Damian confessed. - I've been brainwashing and training them for a long time, and this is the result. What we fought for, we got what we got. - Blackheart grinned cheerfully.
- You took it more... easily than I thought you would. - Varis marvelled.
- Life's a bitch. - He shrugged. - She's screwed me over more than once, and this is just another time, and probably the last.
- I'm offering you an option that won't be the last. - Varis grinned slightly.
- It's a dubious proposition.
- It is what it is. - Varis shrugged. - I'll be honest, I originally wanted to get rid of you, but after analysing your actions and the situation around you, I realised that you could be of use to us. You are a man of ambition, ability and talent in many areas, though you try to present yourself more as a warrior, commander and perhaps a politician. I am aware of your economic and cultural endeavours in your lands. But that is not what attracts me to you. You are young and energetic. I'll be honest, Mopatis and I have a decade and a half to live at most. Beyond that, maybe Connington will last a decade and a half, but no more. And you'll still be strong and sane enough to help our king--
- How interesting. - Blackheart interrupted him. - I called him a Blackfire and an impostor, fought against him, and you offer me a seat on the OWLs to support him?
- Aegon has less trustworthy men serving him now. Alas, such is the world. The knights who now feast to celebrate the end of the war have fought on almost every side at different times over the last two years and praised different kings and their deeds. But politics and the truth of life is that you never know where your path may take you. You realise that yourself. Not that I question your loyalty to past suzerains, but you served them not only for the sake of law and justice, but also in no small part for your ambition and lust for power? I realise that and I do not condemn it. A man without ambition is just a grey mass. And you are not a grey mass, and neither am I. I am afraid of you, because you are still in chains, but I do respect you and want to see you as an ally.
Blackheart was silent, just looking at Varis carefully, as if looking into his soul.
The spider was silent for a while, letting Damian digest his words, but then he continued:
- You know not only your talents, but your still truly strong reputation, respect and influence on people we need. Even before you entered King's Landing, you were spoken for by nearly half the important people of the Seven Kingdoms, including the King's advisors, lords and knights, including the Knights of the King's Guard. Dornish, Storm Lords, River Lords and Knights, some knights and lords from the Vale, Northerners almost entirely, a few captains and lords from the Iron Islands and the Western Lands, and a few even from the Royal and Vast Lands. For example, Randil Tarly himself also asked for you, which surprised me - and judging by Blackheart's reaction, so did he. - Mace Tyrell's mother, Garlan, Loras and Willas have also asked for you. Doran and Oberyn Martell. Of the Kingsguard, only Jorah Mormont hasn't tried to speak for you, but he didn't know you personally, as far as I know. Connington, Dondarrion, Gentry and many other lords and knights. I've never seen so many begging for one man. It makes you wonder.
- It does. - Blackheart nodded.
- Hm. Don't make a foolish choice, Lord Blackheart. I would be truly sorry to see your exuberant head fall from your shoulders. See you soon. I hope this holiday and place will help you make the right choice. - Varys said lastly and walked towards the exit.
Damian noticed Varys' sluggish gait and the urge to turn to him. He wanted to ask something else, but apparently changed his mind and left.
Soon the privy was brought in and Blackheart was unhooked from the wall and left to his own devices.
This was not Blackheart's last encounter with visitors.
The next day at about noon, a pram was rolled up to him with a man who was no longer old. Though Damian had never seen him live, he smiled and greeted his 'guest':
- Prince Doran? - And immediately tilted his head to the side. - I didn't expect to see you here. Does the Master of the Law now still have duties to check on the condition of prisoners.
- No such obligations. But I do have certain obligations to you as head of House Martell. The fact is, you and I have not spoken in all this time. Well, we should have, because we have a lot in common.
- I doubt it. Just that I killed your sister's killers and her children, and I fought against the Lannisters.
- That's no small thing. And on behalf of House Martell, I thank you for that. I wish I could do more, but alas, my abilities are not unlimited. We are all mere mortals and we all have our limits. You've already reached it.
- What limit are you talking about, Prince Doran? - Blackheart chuckled. - The limit of opportunity or the limit of life. Both are about opportunity, the way you look at it, and what you are willing to do to break the next obstacle in your path.
- That's an interesting thought. - Doran smiled weakly. - But I'm afraid your 'next obstacle in the way' might take your head off. You have a wayward temperament and way of thinking. Obara and Oberyn have told me much about you, as have Nymeria and Tiena. You need to accept your defeat. Or else--
- Death?! - Blackheart interrupted him. - I don't fear death as such. I don't want a senseless and stupid one, yes. But do you even know what the process of interaction between life and death is?
- I used to think about it a lot when I was young, but eventually, I stopped. I decided to enjoy the present and think about the future of my loved ones. Do you have any idea what you're talking about?
- Some. - Damian answered evasively and laughed. - I can't tell you everything, even if I wanted to, and you wouldn't believe me if I told you the whole truth, but I will share some things. Because there is no escape from the fact that death exists as an integral part of life. Man is mortal! No matter how you look at it, we were created that way. Though it is a sad circumstance, it is quite natural and I would even say correct. In the world, everything that has a beginning has an end. Death of any living being is inevitable, it is obligatory at the natural level. Death is not just the external opposite of life, it is the moment of life itself. Something like the epilogue of a story, but not necessarily that after this epilogue there is no continuation of the story. - His eyes looked slyly at Doran, and Blackheart smiled even more. - Death is a necessary element of life, but life is also a necessary element of death.
- Interesting thoughts. - Doran looked at Blackheart, who had already calmed down. - But I can't agree with everything you said. Perhaps we understand the same words in different ways. For me, the new cycle of life is children.
- I don't have any. - shrugged indifferently.
- Lieven Sand. - Doran objected, which made the corner of Damian's upper lip twitch. - Obara became pregnant and bore you a son. He's a sturdy boy with your looks. My nieces and my daughter, Princess Daenerys, Elaria and the maids of honour are always around him. He's already become a favourite with the women of Sunspear. Lovely child.
- Then he is definitely my son. - Blackheart grinned.
- Yes. Daenerys has grown fond of him as her own, perhaps because of the loss of her son and her unspent maternal instincts. She insisted that Aegon legitimise him as your son and heir regardless of the outcome of your answer.
- How sweet.
- There's irony in it, but not much. If your son is being thought of by a seemingly outsider from the house you swore an oath to, then perhaps you are required to do so as well?
- I doubt he's in any danger. If he is indeed legitimised, he will have my lands and people. He'll have his mother, which I didn't have in my time, and he'll have kin from the Freys and Martells, and his father's friends who stood up for him to the King in his time. So all that is required of me as a parent I have done and can do as I please.
- I thought you were a sensible man.
- I am.
- So will you swear an oath to Aegon?
- You already know the answer. Is there any point in questioning me about it again? I'm rarely wrong, but when I am, I try to learn from my mistakes.
- But I don't think you've learnt a lesson this time.
- We'll see. - Blackheart smiled.
- I hope so. - Doran closed his eyes tiredly.
Doran remained silent for a while longer, and then called the commander of his guard to take him to his chambers.
By the evening of the next day, he had a whole list of new visitors to go through:
Varick, Larry, Gentry, Berrick, Mia, Vel, Asgen, but also Davos, Auran, Dacey and Alisanna Mormont, and a dozen more of his commanders and even knights of the Royal Guard. Among, which included both Thoros and Mendon and Loras. They all shared with him information about various details that had happened or were happening now about the fate of various lords, amusing stories. But beyond that, they also hinted at Damian not to be fooled.
But he only smiled at the requests and advice of his friends and acquaintances. There was no resentment against them, not even against Mendon, who had pierced his arm with his knife there in the surroundings. With a little common sense thinking, Damian even realised that it had saved his life, for if he had continued like that, the next arrow would probably have been aimed between his eyes.
One thing he regretted was that Sigurd Frostbite, some of the loyal wildlings, including many of the Tennes, and Ollie had died in the assault on Sorrowful City. And Theo Frey also died from a stray arrow at Casterly Rock. And a dozen or two good men and women who wore green coats. They were valuable men, to him.
On the fourth and fifth days, some former linen knights and "green cloaks" stopped by.
And on the sixth, late the night before the day the wedding was to take place, he had one last visitor come in.
- I didn't think you'd come after all. A little pleasantly surprised, even. - Blackheart grinned, turning over on his other side to look at his visitor. - Still, I can't say I'm not glad to see you, my sweet Obara.
For a moment his gaze lingered on the bundle in her hands, from which peeped out little chubby hands that reached for the face of its bearer.
- Is that what I think it is? - Damian was interested and rose from his bunk.
Obara smiled slightly at the sight of their shared child and stepped closer, getting down on one knee and unfolding the bundle wider.
- Lieven Sand. And by the grace of Princess Daenerys will be Blackheart. - Obara smiled, looking at their child.
- Graces-" Damian grimaced.
- 'I've already spoken to your father and uncle about your future. And with your friends. You idiot!
- Shut up woman. You're not my wife to boss me around. - he snorted irritably.
- Would you let any woman boss you around? - The Dornish woman smiled slyly.
- You know very well I wouldn't. Then why do you bring it up at all?
- I haven't given up hope.
- You should. Abandon hope, everyone who enters here. - Damian smiled, remembering a rather famous phrase from one of the concentration camps of his past world. - I think that phrase would be appropriate for a dungeon of this type.
- And you've lost it. - Obara answered him sorrowfully, stroking the baby's face. - He looks just like you.
- Does he poop?
- Well, yes. - Sand was surprised at the question, but answered honestly.
- Peeing?
- Yes.
- Sucks greedily on your breasts?
- Yes, he does.
- Well, on the third question, he's definitely my son. - Blackheart said with a smile and looked again at the baby, who was quietly looking at his parent with the same scarlet eyes.
- Ha ha ha. I never could understand what you were getting at. - Obara said through her tears. - You always thought differently.
- Because of that, I have achieved a lot in this life.
- But now you can lose everything!
- Shut up woman! - he shouted at her, waking up his son. - You'd better calm the child down.
- You're cruel to me.
- I didn't ask you to love me. I told you right from the start that you shouldn't expect love from me. I only need you for two things, to fuck and to fight on my side.
- I know.
- Then why the fuck are you messing with my head? I'm a lot more honest than most men. I didn't lie to you, I told you what you should expect from me. But you hung your ears and now you're chewing your snot. You piss me off, you women. Loras was right to fuck Renly. At least he didn't fuck his brains out.
- So fuck your own Loras! - spat out Obara with a scream.
- I'd rather fuck him! I'd have the Tyrells' support and more pleasure. He's more like a woman than you are. You're too much of a man. Only a little more Brienne-like than Brienne... Kha-ka-a-a-a-ah!" He bent double from Sand's kick between his legs. - Bitch!
- I'd rather be a bitch than an idiot like you. - she said in tears. - I thought I could change you....
- Then you're an idiot for thinking that. I do what I want to do! Not as some imbecile with an inflated sense of grandeur thought during another inflammation of her meagre brain!
Obara just pressed her lips together, and silently walked away to the creak of the door and the shouting of her son Leawen.
Damian only squinted slightly at her departure with scarlet eyes. They seemed to burn like fire, but soon he only lay powerlessly back on his bunk with his eyes covered.
He was about to drift off into the realm of Morpheus, but once again he was prevented from resting peacefully for the day ahead by a woman's painfully familiar voice:
- You've been cruel to her.
- Mellisandra. - Blackheart spat out her name irritably. - What the fuck are you doing here?
- To say the one thing I've wanted to say to you since the announcement of Jhaerys Targaryen's origins to the world.
- Is that important now? - He raised one eyebrow in a show of scepticism.
- Yes. It'll be over soon enough, anyway.
- All right, go ahead.
- I did it because the Lord of Light told me to. It's the way for the Light to triumph over the Dark.
- I fight in the darkness. I don't care about the light.
- Yes, you do. Deep down, you've always wanted the light.
- You don't have to preach to me, old woman. If I didn't know who you really were, I'd fuck you out of anger and a desire for satisfaction. But this way, I'd only be morally traumatised.
Mellisandra smiled.
- You'll still have that opportunity. But not now and not tomorrow. Dawn is coming soon.
- I told you, you want to read bedtime stories to someone, go to mine... go to Obara's and read to Leaven, he's a little baby who'll buy your tits and ringing voice. He's gonna give you a toothless grin and be happy about it.
- You don't get me. Although I don't think you're even trying.
- Why? It'll all be over for me soon.
- Every process is cyclical. - Mellisandra never stopped.
- That's right. You don't even realise how true your last sentence is. - he smiled slightly. - It's just that what's happening now is only the end of the second act of the Marleson ballet. But there will be a third.
- I know. That's why I wanted to tell you the truth.
Damian gave her a mocking look and turned back to the wall.
Soon she was gone, leaving behind a trail of perfume.
He lay on the bunk for a while, then stood up abruptly and walked over to the small stool. After poking it up and down, he found what he needed. A small nail that he pulled with difficulty from the stool.
Then he went to his bunk, pulled up the mattress, which was well stuffed with straw, and the wide wooden bunk appeared before him.
Damian made a cut on his left palm and let the blood drip onto the wood until it pooled. Then he tore a decent amount of cloth from his shirt and bandaged the wound.
- I can't believe I'm doing this, but if what Rex told me is true, it should give me an answer. - Blackheart muttered.
He began to recite an ancient prayer that Rex had put in his head for a long time, and Damian didn't want to learn it. But involuntarily he memorised it nonetheless.
Bloodshot eyes looked intently at the spilled blood after the prayer was said, and waited for the result...
***
Once again, he stood before the Iron Throne.
A slight smile wandered across his face. He was dressed by order of Varys in fine robes made by the finest tailors in the capital, bearing the crest of his house.
Behind him stood two 'attendants'.
The wedding ceremony had already taken place, and now Queen Margaery sat beside Aegon, not just the daughter of Mace Tyrell, High Lord of Spaceland.
- Congratulations on acquiring such a marvellous consort Your Majesty. - Blackheart congratulated him in his usual carefree tone.
- Thank you for your sincere words. All the traditional rituals and actions have been performed. - Aegon remarked. - Now I think, as my advisers have said, it is time to receive another gift from you.
- It can hardly be called a gift, Your Grace.
Aegon snorted.
- Lord Blackheart! What is your answer?
- You are the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms. - Damian shrugged, to which most of the audience, including Aegon and his advisers, smiled, and some even sighed in relief. - You have been sworn in by almost everyone, and now you rule this kingdom legally. I have always acted wisely, but also honourably. And I have always sworn to and served lawful, just and honourable monarchs and have always served them faithfully to the end.
- I'm glad you made a sensible choice.
- Well, I'd say it's the obvious choice. - Blackheart smiled.
Connington wanted to order Blackheart's release, but didn't have time to do so:
- Of course. I always follow the call of my sense of justice and duty, so I refuse!
Everyone froze, and then a rumble began in the Hall, at which an irritated Aegon hissed:
- What?
- I refuse to kneel before you. I have had enough of all the kings and queens I have served. I have had enough. Jehaerys was the rightful king I served and would have served if he had suddenly appeared here, I would have fought for him again, but now... I've had enough.
- Have you gone mad? - Oberyn couldn't take it anymore. - You've been given a chance.
- I choose my own fate and my own path. And now I have chosen a different fate, one that is more to my liking and in my plans.
- Execute! Execute him now! - shouted Aegon, barely able to contain his rage. - No, I'll do it myself! - he snatched up the Dark Flame and raced with all his might towards Blackheart, who did not show an ounce of fear, but only... smiled.
A sharp shriek from several women and long sighs from the men.
Streams of blood from the corners of Damian's mouth slowly dripped down to his chin. His chest was pierced by an ancient sword that was simply blazing with magic at the moment. He could feel it now, and it made his smile grow even wider with each passing second.
- You have made another mistake, Your Grace. - Damian spoke in a subdued voice. - You should never let an enemy get so close to you that he can sink his teeth into your throat. - He smiled predatorily, which made Aegon cringe, but he had no time to do anything.
The next moment Damian Blackheart, nicknamed Blackheart, sank his teeth into the throat of Aegon Targaryen, the Sixth of that name, and ripped out his cadaver with a pulp. Blood flooded Blackheart's face as well as his clothes and the floor.
Aegon's body fell quickly to the floor of the Throne Room, and Blackheart fell to his knees. He was dying, but he still found the strength to look at Margaery Tyrell, who was staring in horror and disbelief at this... monster.
- Do not grieve Margaery Tyrell, you will be queen yet. After all, it was in my plans and Jaehaerys' plans. - The smile on his face froze as did his gaze, and then his body slumped sideways.
Blackheart's and Eyghon's blood melded together, spreading apart and in a moment, the outline of a lion's head could be seen beneath them. Vaguely, but it was possible.
Mellisandra of Asshai uttered only one phrase that day:
- Act Two is over, Act Three begins.
Asshai. Some time later.
The spacious white bath was simply radiant and fragrant, save for the fact that in the centre, warm blood was dripping from the mouths of lion-shaped marble heads in the circular bath.
And in the centre, bubbles were rising from under the water, as if the blood was boiling there.
- Aha-ha-ha-ha! - From the whole tub of blood, a man emerged right out of the centre. He was completely bald, naked, and covered in blood that was slowly dripping down his body, long-standing scars, burns, and embossed muscles.
He rubbed his eyes and opened his eyelids. There was a scarlet iris staring out at the world, looking around his surroundings inquisitively.
The man smiled showing a full set of white teeth.
- Ha-ha-ha!
- You've finally come to your senses... Damian Blackheart. - came a melodious female voice from the doorway.
Damian looked the stranger over from head to toe. She was gorgeous, with mismatched eyes: deep blue and bright green, a flaw that only added to her zest, not spoilt it. She was beautifully slim and graceful, with a slim waist and full appetising breasts. Her silver-gold hair was very long, thick and curly. Her face was slightly... familiar, heart-shaped, her lips scarlet and full, and her mischievous eyes unusually large. Damian felt as if they could melt even his callous and dark heart.
Of her clothes, she wore only a long, beautiful dress, lacy and with silver threads that richly adorned her outfit. Around her neck was visible her only jewellery, a heavy necklace of alternating emeralds and star sapphires.
- Who are you?" he asked her.
She flashed her multi-coloured eyes at him and smiled affectionately.
- Call me Shira. - A crazy guess came into Damian's head, which was confirmed by Shira's understanding smile. But he didn't want to voice it. His head was still a little sore after... everything. - Shira Starfish is my name. - She repeated it again and then without giving him time to think she added - Come on, they're waiting for you.
- Who? - Damian asked, not taking his gaze off Shira's figure.
- Your king my sweet pet. - And with an enchanting laugh, she turned the corner.
Damian only followed her without asking any other questions.
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