Chapter 51: Epilogue
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Epilogue.
King's Landing. The 60th year of Dawn of Jaehaerys, or the 365th year of Aegon's Conquest.
The spacious room of the rebuilt Tower of the Hand was filled with many people that surrounded the bed of one grey-haired old man. Scarlet eyes were ajar and gazed upon his descendants and the descendants of the king that Damian Blackheart had served for many years.
Next to him, the aforementioned king sat closest to him. Jaheiris had aged as much as Damian but was two years younger than his Hand, he looked more Targaryen now than he had in the days of his youth, his hair was completely white with grey, as was his light neat beard. At the entrance were two Kingsguard who looked with interest at the only Hand of their King who had served him all his life without interruption.
Beside them, Grand Maester Samwell Tarly, who had been appointed forty years ago, stood not far from the dying man's bed.
Gendry Baratheon was absent, for he himself had been bedridden for a second year, and according to the Maesters' observations he was soon to depart.
Dickon Tarly the aged Guardian of the South and High Lord of the Vastness sat next to Damian's sons and daughters: Lieven Blackheart the Lord of Sorrowful Town and Master over the Weapons of Red Castle, Barra Baratheon in her maidenhood, and after Tarly's marriage, Walder Blackheart the son by Vel who held the position of Master over the Law, and was Lord of Cornfield, and also Daenerys Blackheart, another daughter of Damian by Obara Sand, the now deceased wife of the Blackheart, or as he was also known as the Black Hand, the Red-Eyed Demon, and the Bloody Other. Daenerys took her place as High Priestess of the Lion of Night cult in the Main Temple of King's Landing. These were all the children that had lived to this point, some had died in battle, some from old age and disease. Many more grandchildren, great-grandchildren and even great-great-grandchildren walk this world and House Blackheart has already become second in importance and numbers to House Targaryen.
Not counting bastards, King Jaheiris the Third had eight sons by his first wife in the first ten years after his victory over the Night King. While giving birth to the eighth, she died of blood loss. And five years later, he married Deacon Tarly's sister and in their marriage, three more daughters were born. After that, of course, Jaehaerys had no sons, but there were two more marriages to a noblewoman of Volantis and even to the deceased youngest daughter of his Hand, and they produced as many as nine beautiful maidens.
- Jay. - Damian wheezed.
- What, you're not dead yet? - Jaehaerys smiled.
- Fuck you, not peace from me," the dying man grinned. - The dying man grinned. - You can't get rid of me that easily.
- I know, that's why you've been a pain in the arse to everyone for the last six decades. I don't think anyone in the history of our kingdom has ever held that position for so long.
- You forget that we are already an Empire! - The Hand grinned.
- I think I'm getting senile, hahaha.
The Seven Kingdoms became an Empire twenty-odd years ago, when the conquest of all the Free Cities in Essos and the Summer Isles was over, and the Seven Kingdoms, despite the great rights of the Lords, were more centralised and cohesive, more loyal to the Targaryens than they had ever been since the victory over the Night King's undead army. That's why no one thought to think of throwing Jaheiris off the throne. Now some grandsons, great-grandsons of Jaehaerys, Damian, Deacon, Gendry and Damian's brother Rex, who has been dead for five years, are waging wars in the Bay of Traders and the Jade Sea, annexing more and more lands.
- I'm glad you haven't forgotten about me," he said to all present. - Otherwise, I'd have sleepwalked you all to death for ignoring me. Heh-heh-heh. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha... Fucking old age. I should have died young and in battle.
- But you survived. And after the War of Dawn, you became invulnerable to any swordsman, outclassing everyone, even me. No one could defeat you. - The king grinned bitterly. - If in the battle with the Others you had not yet fully recovered from your death and dealt with the enhancement you had been given, then no one could stand against you once you had mastered your gift.
- That the Lion of the Night will be in pain for all eternity.
- You sin, Father! - Daenerys pouted her lips in a pretence of judgement.
- Fuck you, Daenerys! - her father shouted. - Look at the way the women are acting! They've made me a feminist, you know, and then you'll have to suffer for your descendants. At least I'll die and won't see this nightmare.
- Would you be afraid of the gods? - Jaehaerys suggested it.
- I'm dying, but I feel like this is just the beginning.
- Are you talking about what you told Doran and me once? - The White Wolf asked.
- Yes. I had a vision. It's not the end for me. By the way, for you too, your time will come... soon... and you, too, will be rewarded for your labours old friend.
- It'll be interesting to see that.
- Jay!
- What?
- Press on my inner thigh at the right point, you know, the one I taught you. The one for erections. And get the best whore with the best tits and arse, I want to fuck her and drink wine with my left hand as I die. And put my sword in my right hand! I want to die like a man in bed! Since we can't do it on the battlefield.
And the White Wolf and all those present laughed. They fulfilled his will and two hours after the beginning of the "pleasant death" the whore embarrassedly came out of the chambers and looked at the king in silence. She was paid in a truly royal manner, she received a whole thousand golden dragons!
When the aged king entered the chambers, he saw a rather expected picture: Damian was not breathing, his eyes frozen staring at one point. But, Great Damian Blackheart died with a smile, holding his sword with his right hand, the goblet of wine was in his left hand. And his cock was still standing, ready to pierce anyone!
- You died honourably my brother. - Jayhaerys said, wiping away his tears.
The greatest warrior, commander, politician, loyal friend, role model, wonderful teacher, some said even a scientist, the best lover, a wonderful father, grandfather and just one of the greatest men of this world has passed away forever in this world....
Somewhere in another world. The year 1238, the city of Vengerberg, the kingdom of Aedirn.
Jennyfair woke up after passing out after finishing her labour. Eastredd congratulated her on the birth of her firstborn, her only child that she had unexpectedly conceived.
The young, relatively young, sorceress took her much anticipated and already beloved child in her arms.
She gasped at the contemplation of her son's cuteness. Yenn was a brunette, with violet eyes and pale almost white skin, and her child looked nothing like her except for the purple eyes. Her son had wheat hair, and skin a little darker, a golden hue, not pale like hers.
- Yeni, have you decided what you're going to name him yet? - Eastredd asked as he washed his face.
- Yes. My son...I will name him Damian. Probably... that's the best name for him.
- Damian? You mean "Fertile"? Ha! Considering how hard it's been for you and the fulfilment of your dream, it's a good name for him.
- I think so too. - Jennyfair replied with a smile, running her finger down her firstborn's cheek.
At that moment the boy, Damian, began to laugh uncontrollably at something. His laughter amused Yenn at first, but then it started to scare her a little. She didn't know who she had given birth to and what her offspring would be, not only in the country, but also in the world.
In the meantime, Damian only suckled peacefully at the sorceress' breasts, gaining strength for the feats to come....
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