Blackheart (GoT, Witcher, DC)

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***

Damian Blackheart.

I stood before the Iron Throne, bound and silent.

Not because I couldn't get a word out because of fear or because I didn't have anything to say, my tongue was simply out of my mouth and pierced by my own Valyrian dagger that I had received after the battle with Lefford.

The most surprising thing was that I didn't see any blood dripping from my pierced tongue. It was gone.

My arms and legs were shackled, and I couldn't move.

There was no one in the hall but me and the figure on the throne. Not even the royal guards, just the two of us. The figure was black, blurred, like a ruined film and the image on it. But somehow I knew it was trying to tell me something. But it was like cotton wool in my ears, and I couldn't make out the words.

It went on like this for a few minutes, at most, until the ceiling began to collapse. The Throne Room was filled with flames that the black dragon was breathing out, and its flames were as black as night.

Almost instantly after the dragon, a lingering sense of unease began to fill the space, but before that I felt no fear. The flames went out, and I saw the Iron Throne again, but it was no longer occupied by that dark figure. On it sat what, judging from the TV series, could be called the Night King. A huge man with an icy curved sword, eyes as cold as ice and as blue as the sky, who looked at me with interest, stroking his curved ice blade of pale blue colour, which glowed a little.

He looked at me for a long time, and then said something in an unknown language, but I did not understand what it was, and his voice was distorted, as if I was under a column of water.

After that I woke up in a cold sweat. In my tent beneath the walls of Storm's Edge, where we had been besieging it for the fifth day. I wiped away the sweat and reached for a goblet of crystal clear water. I try not to drink too much on a campaign, because anything can happen: a sudden assault, the need for an attack, a serious conversation, or diarrhoea. In general, all sorts of things happen, so I keep water with me at all times, not wine. After drinking almost the whole cup, I lay down again on the camp bed with the skins of different animals and realised that it was getting light.

A whore was sniffing on my left, a whore who had come with Lord Buckler's convoy, and I was using her as an ally. As they say, we are in the same harness, and sometimes we need to swing the whip, and this one didn't mind a little BDSM. We had some elements of this genre of sex with Obara, but I did not have time to introduce her to everything, and I really wanted to, but I just did not have enough time and space. A lot of things to do and there is nothing to do about it, if you want to stay alive and well.

Eh! Obara... I'm fond of her body, even though it's imperfect. Nymeria or Tiena would give her a head start in this regard, but for some reason I wanted to subdue her. It was probably because no one else could do it before me.

I wonder if Brienne and Mage Mormont's daughters are just as hot and just as rebellious. Lyanna Mormont is clear, she's got more courage and stubbornness than Ned Stark, and it's like she's got bigger balls than Jorah Mormont.

And then there's Barbry Dustin, the bitch who hated Ned Stark personally and was an ally of the Boltons. She was about the same age as Ned, maybe a year older, and in the book it was written that even though she was a lonely lady, a bit old and wrinkled, she was still relatively pretty. And sometimes twenty-somethings don't look so good. Brienne, for example, is a good fit here.

Brienne's current situation isn't that bad. She's not as ugly as she's been described, she has a broken nose, and more than once, but apparently they don't know how to fix it properly or she fixed it herself. Her hair is like straw, but that's more because of her lifestyle and the fact that she hardens herself and washes in cold water and rather doesn't use anything for her hair. Then she has a face dotted with freckles, a tall height, even a little taller than me, underdeveloped breasts, less than a size two to my humble eye, and more muscularity than a woman should have. That's it. There are worse. I'm even thinking of asking for her hand in marriage. The most important thing is descendants, so I can claim Storm's End for myself and my descendants.

If Arianna doesn't work out, why not take the helm in the Stormlands? If things don't work out here, you can always go back to the Riverlands and try to get something there. And if I can take out the Lannisters in the West, I can take out that region from my king-queen. There's not much to worry about right now.

All these spontaneous thoughts have distanced me from my strange dream, though I am more than sure that it is not a dream, but visions that want to warn me of something or give me a sign. But for now, it's a mystery to me.

I lay on the bunk for a while, then chased the whore away and started to get dressed. It's good to lie down, but I need to check on my lords, because we've been joined by other lords of these lands and they have a different atmosphere within their units. But I was able to get them to obey my army's rules and laws. It's a bit of a squeak, but they've accepted it.

The guards are good, the mess and dirt are gone, it's good.

I went into the tent to see John and Gentry, but they weren't there. Too bad. They must be out hunting somewhere in the neighbourhood. I wanted to get a bit of exercise.

- They've had their bows and arrows and their weapons and a couple of squires' boys since midnight and gone hunting. - like Rex read my mind.

- I wish I had someone to stretch out with. - I grinned and walked on through the camp in Rex's company. - What does our intelligence say?

- Intelligence is as silent as a fish. - Rex shrugged. - My men are doing everything they can, but you know it's hard to find weaknesses in the Storm's Edge defences, much less secret entrances and exits. It's never happened in history. The fortress was built a long time ago and not by random people. So finding something like this is going to be a challenge.

- That's understandable. I'm more interested in what's going on around us.

- It's quiet. The little houses that swore allegiance to Joffrey are sitting tight. All we hear from King's Landing is the young king threatening to execute everyone and foaming at the mouth about everything. The Tyrells, as far as I know, have returned to the Vale. But I think we can expect some sort of proposal towards their children soon. The Queen of the Spikes certainly won't want them to languish with us for long, she loves her grandchildren more than even Mace himself loves his children.

- Old Rozan is more fond of himself and fame. He's vain and that's something to play on. - I nodded back at him. - But here the main thing is to agree with the old woman, she still really runs the Prostor after the death of her husband, and Mace is an official, which is just endowed with huge powers. The important thing is that he doesn't fall for Tywin's offer. Though he shouldn't.

- A lot depends on what we can offer them. Rozan is preoccupied with the idea of making his daughter queen and being grandfather to the King of the Seven Kingdoms. The Tyrells, as you said, have an inferiority complex about not being related to a dynasty of kings, with both Targaryens and Baratheons. Even the Hightowers and the Redwins were related to the Targaryens more than once in the past, and the Tyrells, not even lovers. Despite all their lands, power and wealth, they remain despicable to most of their vassals.

- Vanity, pride, and secret desires. - I spoke thoughtfully. - These three aspects should help us in the case.

- How you're going to pull it off, Damian, is another matter. - Rex smiled.

- My lord!" came the voice of Jon, who was running towards us with his lute-wolf, Gendry, and a couple of squires, carrying a barrel of some kind. - 'My lord, would you care for some rare wine from the I-Tii Empire itself? - And he smiled slyly.

My brother and I looked at each other perplexed and turned our faces back to him and the barrel.

- As far as I know, we have only Dornish, and our allies have some Arborian. - Rex replied. - Lord Buckler complained to me yesterday that almost all the lords of the Stormlands lack variety in their wines.

- We got this at Storm's End! - Gendry proudly proclaimed.

- Where?" My brother and I were surprised beyond measure.

- We... or rather, John found a secret passage five miles off Cape Durran. Which led straight into the wine cellar under the donjon. Nobody saw us and we took the trophy!

Holy shit! How lucky are we? We've been besieging Storm's End for five days after no negotiations and the first unsuccessful assault, and we've had such a twist of fate....

We have a 5,000-strong army that only fires scorpions and catapults at the walls of Storm's End every day. The forces of the defenders are slowly dwindling, but rather slowly. And time is running out in big politics...

- John, how did you find this secret passage? - Rex came back to life.

- I... I... dreamed it was there. I know it sounds silly, but since the first day we've been here, I've been having various dreams that I can't explain.

Hmm. I had a weird dream today, too. I wonder if it's this place that's affecting us or if it's something else. I don't doubt that Jon is a warg, like all Starks of his generation, and maybe I can give him some hints to help him develop his gift.

- That's fine! - I smiled my full 32nd smile. - John, you're doing great! I commend you!

- Glad to be of service, Lord Blackheart! - John straightened up, but he still smiled.

My mood lifted and now I even began to share the skin of the unkilled bear, or rather to think, who to put in the place of the castle castellan?

While I was thinking, Rex informed me that he was going to prepare a squad to infiltrate and capture the castle. John and Gendry had asked to join the same squires in the assault. And I wanted to refuse them at first, but then I thought about it and decided it was for the best.

After all, I intend to make John a king. And who needs an upstart who doesn't even have the glory of a warrior or a commander? He is already gaining experience in command, even in controlling the Misty Forest, even if only for a short while, but it is time for him to become a knight.

So I gave him the command to lead the men to take the castle, let him distinguish himself. After all, he is our chosen one, and in the canon he was a "naive northern boy", and here I have more or less corrected his brains, and useful skills instilled in him. In addition, our "special forces" will go with him, although they should rather be attributed to the merits of Rex, because he spent the most on them, and I'm already on the second role. If John managed to survive on the Wall and beyond with his naivety and unpreparedness for life, he'll survive here. And keeping him safe 24/7 is a hassle. Let the child go off on his own, cos I'm not eternal and I won't be with him all the time. If the gods are sure he's the Chosen One, let them back him up in case of trouble. I'll sit in camp and wait for the weather to clear.

The capture took place at night, at the hour of the wolf. We had a diversion at lunchtime in the form of a false assault by Lord Fell's and Lord Connington's militia, supported by my crossbowmen and scorpions. Even by sheer luck they managed to capture one of the towers for a couple of minutes, I even considered sending reinforcements to them, but they were quickly outnumbered and those who survived were thrown back behind the wall.

Over a hundred of the best fighters, including Jon, Gendry, those two squire friends of theirs, Marik, Asgen also volunteered, Thoros of Myr and a few of his men, Ronnet Connington, his squire, Rex's men, and a dozen crossbowmen and archers from Lord Buckler's army, plus a couple of dozen veteran volunteers.

They sneaked into the castle without making too much noise, skilfully taking out guards and patrols, as well as servants if they were caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. They found the castellan's and Edric's quarters, then quickly picked them up and brought them to the camp. Only Edric was taken to the camp, but Penrose was executed by beheading and put on display in the courtyard of the castle for the alarmed guards to see. At the same time, my knightly part of the army was already entering the castle, through the open western gate. The outcome was a foregone conclusion. Penrose's men believed him, but the only thing they were worth fighting for was in my hands, and their leader was dead. A couple of Courtney Penrose's knight friends still wanted to avenge their commander, but received bolts in their eye sockets. The rest simply laid down their weapons.

By dawn, Storm's Edge had been taken. In the same courtyard, I knighted Asgen, Marik, and John.

The happiness in his eyes was uncountable, even tears were coming out. At that moment, I think I felt something I'd forgotten, like sympathy for Ned Stark for not living to see Jon knighted.

Everyone was just as excited about Jon being a knight. Over the past year, many have not only grown accustomed to him, but even fond of him. Although he is somewhat frowning and cold, he still tries to be a kind and talkative little guy with his own. And you can always rely on him as a fighter and a friend. What to say, if Marik and Asgen are inferior to him in many parameters in terms of close combat. And Asgen is a student of the First Blade of Braavos for a minute, but still, he's losing ground to me and Jon now.

Ser Jon Snow sounds beautiful. And now I think it would be nice and proper for him to have his own troop in command.

I gave him a dozen and a half of our men from my generous heart when he created his little unit, and Thoros and four of his last men went to his unit on his own initiative, and he took two dozen militia hunters from the neighbourhood, three dozen young Northerners, fifty fine men, and twenty-five riders from among the former Raven-Briars. Still, John and the unit were listed as part of my Guard, but he was just a lieutenant, though I hadn't given him that rank yet. But if he fights a little, I will raise his status in our army.

That same evening, after the knighthood, we had a feast in honour of the capture of the castle and sent the raven to Dragonstone.

And five days later, a small flotilla arrived, led by Davos Seaworth himself, with him and the red priestess.

They came to our aid with nearly a thousand more warriors, but they were a little late. But they brought new news. A reply from the Vale has arrived. Lady Lysa Arryn, on behalf of her son, recognised Shireen as the rightful queen, but complained that the lords of the Vale were not ready for war and would not be able to support Her Grace, and that Lady Lysa promised to think about the marriage, for such important matters as she thinks are not decided so quickly. So we got their iron neutrality, but their sympathy for us. That, in the language of diplomacy, could be understood roughly as follows. In addition, individuals from the Vale have assisted us by sending small units of soldiers, and knights to support Queen Shiren. A small number of only a few hundred, but a gesture we will appreciate a little later.

Mace Tyrell replied, or rather it was Olenna who most likely dictated to him, and Mace signed what she told him.

The bottom line was that we couldn't get military support from them, but we did get Margaery's marriage cancelled and the Tyrells didn't help the Lions. Mace sort of wrote that he doesn't mind swearing Shireen in, but only when she's already sitting on the Iron Throne in King's Landing, when she's officially crowned, and until then she's just a pretender. But they recognise her supremacy and right to the throne and that she is doing good deeds to restore justice. They also hinted that it would be nice to let Loras and Garlan go as a sign of good intentions. And their relatives missed them.

In response, I wrote them a message, which boiled down to the fact that we were happy to understand that they would not side with the enemy, and Ser Garlan would be a guest of the Queen as her future loyal vassal and friend on Dragonstone. And Loras in turn will be my companion and interlocutor for the rest of the war, and that they will not worry about the well-being of their two beloved children. For I Damian Blackheart personally give my word that I will be concerned for their health and well-being. I also sent word to Donald to send Garlan to Dragonstone and Loras here to Storm's Edge to see me.

There's some bad news, too, like Robb Stark being proclaimed King of the North and the Trident. Still, the canon has made itself felt here. Now we legally have another problem. There was a way to get him to ally himself with us by marrying Shireen. But he must have already decided otherwise.

I had to send word to Varyk to be even more careful and send me a progress report. I'm guessing the Lannisters and the Starks and the Tullys will be muddying the waters in the Riverlands.

I haven't heard from the Greyjoys or seen them attack anyone yet.

Dorne is also quiet, they're in no hurry to help anyone.

But there came trouble from where they were not expecting... the Westerosi, and I somehow forgot about it. I'd put the threat from beyond the Wall on the back burner.

Mellisandra spoke to me privately for the second hour. It was always about the Lord of Light and his power. I was just nodding and getting pissed off with the religiosity, but then she abruptly changed the religious propaganda to another topic:

- Shortly before Davos sailed from Dragonstone, I saw in the fire, Ser Jon Snow. He was crowned with fire and his eyes burned with bright yellow flames. In one hand he held a flaming sword and in the other the bloody head of his enemy.

- And what kind of enemy did you see there? - I wondered.

- I don't know, his face was disfigured. - She shook her head. - Stannis was not Azor Ahai, and you knew it. - She tilted her head birdlike, then leaned closer so I could see her eyes glow a little. - John has the blood of true kings. It wasn't until I saw him again that I realised that. You know the truth. So tell me the truth.

- Shouldn't WGlor have told you that? - I grinned. - Or is this some kind of provocation to question my loyalty to the rightful heir to the Iron Throne?

- I sincerely believe and am even certain that you want to put a true monarch on the throne. But the question is, what is his name, and does he have a penis between his legs rather than a vagina?

I pondered for a while before saying anything. Though I'd thought about it before we met again, it was only now, looking into her eyes, that my gut told me to do just that:

- Jon Snow, is the legitimate son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. The marriage to Elia "The Last Dragon" was dissolved, and the new one to Lyanna was consummated. A document confirming these words lies in Stromest in the Maester's Tower. And supposedly Jon's real name is Aegon Targaryen.

The "old woman's" face lit up with happiness, not literally, but still. She squared her shoulders and paced from corner to corner around my temporary quarters, which used to belong to Renly and then Edric.

- This changes a lot of things.

- His birth changed a lot of things from the beginning. - I shrugged. - The important thing is that we make the most of it. Jon is the rightful heir to the throne, and only Lord Reed and the Three-Eyed Raven know it. - at the mention of the latter, Mellisandra twitched. - That you don't love your father?

She looked at me expectantly and asked:

- And how are you so omniscient?

- If I were omniscient, I would have been Hand of the King, High Lord of some region, and the richest man in the world long ago. For now, I'm just sitting here.

- Well, we'll leave that for the future. I take it you're going to resurrect the dragon?

- How could I? - she snorted. - Just a mere handmaiden of Queen Shiren, serving the only legitimate heir so far. If she dies, I will follow the dictates of my heart and honour. - and now she's smiling. - And Jon is just a brave knight for now, commander of a small band that will have to prove itself in the future, as well as Ned Stark's bastard.

- He's a true Azor Ahai. - Mellisandra interrupted me.

- I think so, too. Anyway, both your visions and mine lead us to the same thing. There is no point in us feuding over religion, our missions are to bring him to the Battle of Dawn alive and well and preferably with a following of his possible subjects.

Mellisandra nodded, and then Gendry knocked on the door.

- My lord, may I come in? A message has arrived by raven.

- Come in. - I shouted to him.

And in a few seconds a tall young man came in with a message that was addressed not only to me, but seemingly to all the lords of Westeros, from Castle Black.

When I read the message, I handed it to Mellisandra. Gendry was still standing beside us the same way.

- It has happened, the dead are coming and now we need to unite the Seven Kingdoms. - said the priestess in a pathetic tone. - Lord Commander Gior Mormont was right to trust his scouts and ask for help, they can't do it on their own.

- That's for sure. They have about five hundred men in Castle Black now, and the same number all over the Wall. In their best years, they had tens of thousands of warriors. Now the Watch is just a name. More like a collection of Northerners, Targaryen royalists, thieves, murderers, and smugglers. And the occasional bastard.

- When Azor Ahai is defeated, he won't be needed. After he is defeated, there will be Eternal Summer. - she smiled.

It's a pity you were not brought up by your father, you sometimes have rose-coloured glasses instead of sober reasoning. You're right, though, because without this victory, all my efforts will be for nothing. So let John train and improve like a madman. And he needs as many people as he can get.

- Gendry!

- Yes, My Lord?

- Inform our commanders and lords that I expect a meeting tomorrow lunchtime.

- Understood.

Afterwards, citing fatigue, I asked Mellisandra to leave me alone to rest. She left, and I began to make a general plan to go to the Wall and beyond. The fact that in this message Gior reported that the dead are coming and it's not a joke, was not the first time. The fact that Mance the Raiders are leading a horde of wildlings to the Wall to cross it I didn't like. If they break through, the Northerners will go back across the Isthmus. And that would make it easier on the Lannisters, leaving the Tullys alone with them, and us too. And the Tyrells might make a mess of things after that.

But by breaking Mance, I can settle this more or less peacefully. Some of the wildlings I'll take into my army, some of them I'll resettle on lands under our control, and in the end, the Watch is satisfied, we have new forces, and the Others won't get a new addition to their ranks. The main thing is to be in time.

These thoughts, apart from mentioning the Others, I presented at the council the next day. Some of the lords were against the idea of going beyond the Wall and thought that victory was close at hand, and that all we needed to do was capture King's Landing. But I reminded them how screwed Renly was with more options than we had. Renly and Co. aren't me with my experience and knowledge, but the facts are there. And besides, I began to make the case that it was our duty as loyal vassals and knights of Shireen to keep her lands safe from the wildlings, led by Mance. And then he raised the possibility that if the wildlings broke through, the Northerners would return to the North and make Tywin's life easier.

After more debate, we all agreed we should go beyond the Wall. Eventually I began assembling an army to do so, which consisted of four and a half thousand proven warriors who would go there.

When the last ships arrived to serve as transports for our forces, the ship carrying Loras Tyrell arrived as well. An hour after his arrival at Storm's Edge, I met with him for a private conversation.

He already knew the details of Renly's fate and was still angry and desperate. Oddly enough, I admit that he did love him. Ugh! True fucking love!

However, now it's even good that his emotions are true.

- It is good to see you in good health, Ser Loras. - I greeted him.

- You have treated us quite well, despite the rumours. - He smiled faintly.

- Rumours are rumours, and captivity is not the same as captivity. But now let me get to the point of why I dragged you here.

- Ransom?

- No. Ransom was offered for you, but I refused on the grounds that I can't make the exchange or accept a ransom until I've dealt with the Lannisters, and besides, why would you want to go back to the Vale when you can serve me or Queen Shireen as her White Cloak?

- I thank you for the honour, but I will decline. - he replied with irritation.

- Don't be so hot-headed. I'm not going to give you any bullshit about honour, the future and the rule of law. It's more pragmatic than that. You know of King Renly's fate, don't you? - a shadow came over his face and his fists clenched. - Wildfire is dangerous and let's just say unhealthy. Renly came under fire and eventually died. But do you know how he died?

- In agony from the burns. - Loras hissed and moisture glistened in the corners of his eyes.

- Yes, that's right. For three days he died. His body burned from the inside out, the unbearable pain was killing him, but he held on, he wanted to see the next day dawn, and maybe you. But you weren't there. - he gritted his teeth. - He was dying in the agony of the Lannisters who wanted to put their bastard on the throne, and not just any bastard, but the product of Cersei and the Kingslayer's incest. Perhaps if you had been there, you could have talked the king out of storming the capital and stayed behind. But you weren't there because he went with his feelings and wanted to "punish" me. So he lost three of his guardsmen at once. But you know, it doesn't even matter now. Dead is dead, alive is alive. Now there are those you, Ser Loras, need to take care of.

- And who do you mean?

- Your family and your enemies. Family, as you realise, must be protected. Your father has an obsession with marrying Margaery to the King. And I fear Margaery may fall into Joffrey's hands. Perhaps you've heard of that bastard's "quirks"? - Loras shuddered. - I have. That's good. I assure you it's all true, not even that, you don't know the whole truth about Joffrey Waters' cruelty and insanity. And she could, in theory, fall into his clutches, your favourite little sister. Do you know what fate awaits her? Almost as bad as Rhaela Targaryen, except she was a dragon and was dear to Aerys, and Joffrey thinks he can do whatever he wants without regard for anyone.

- What do you suggest? - Loras thought frantically, staring at me with a dash of fear.

- Joffrey won't take it, and he'll stomp his feet on anyone who wants to swear an oath to him, if there are people close to Shireen in their ranks. Her guardsman, for example, or my friend and vassal. If word gets out that you serve me or Shireen, your father won't even consider bowing to the Lannisters. Plus, your other brother Garlan will be on Dragonstone and so will be another buffer for your family's safety. And the further the Tyrells are from the Lannisters, the sooner we overthrow them and they pay what they deserve. You will personally be able to chop off every Lannister's head that is still alive...or burn it in the Wildfire.

Loras's internal struggle was interesting to watch, he thought for about fifteen or twenty minutes, paled and blushed, but finally unclenched his fists and exhaled heavily.

And then he had already sworn allegiance to me....

Continuation follows...