Chapter 12

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Damian Rivers, aka Blackheart.

Holy shit!

My back was half burnt, and in addition to it, my left arm, which was also dislocated, and my left buttock were slightly injured by the fire.

The fucking wooden beam fell on me and hit me on the back. I was lucky to get a little farther away, and I was only scorched, not thrown to the floor with Myrcella. Otherwise I would have been burned alive with her.

My plan was to kill Jenna Frey's hubby (maiden name Lannister) and save her, while being her saviour and getting something from the Lannisters. But it didn't turn out the way I'd hoped. Little Myrcella wanted to meet her cousins and cousins and uncles, i.e. Jenna's offspring. And the old lady herself wanted to spend more time with her grandniece. That's why they both ended up in those chambers. It was so until evening, and then Myrcella was put to bed, and Jenna lay in a bed other than her husband's. There must have been a rift in the family. The little princess couldn't sleep for some reason and decided to check on her relatives and at some point after Rex made a successful sabotage, she was already in that room talking to the maid, who was dead by the way.

Though I may be wrong somewhere. Our squad maester didn't tell me much, because there was still confusion and outcry over what had happened. I was lying in my room, covered in all sorts of nasty stuff and drugged with all sorts of potions from both the maester and my brother, and I only got new information when someone came in. Not before.

And all in all, soberly put, Jenna Frey-Lannister's death and the princess's rescue is much better. This case may have served me well. But don't get too comfortable. I need to prove myself more or less healthy before I can set off for the North. I've already prepared some excuses for the old man to leave me alone so I can join the king's cortege in peace. I've even figured out a way to legally escort them to Winterfell. I've got a few of those options. Just in case.

About two hours after the Maester left, I had visitors. And not just any ordinary ones.

- Ser Baristan? - I was really surprised. - I didn't expect to see you here. What brings you to me?

- Don't get up, Ser Damian. - Selmy smiled. - Your wounds.

- ..are not as serious as they may seem. I'm a hard man to kill, and an even harder man to make lie still on a bed without doing anything. In any case, it's my duty to at least greet a guest standing if possible and even offer him something to drink or eat. But I only have ale. - I shrugged, and immediately my left shoulder was pierced with pain. But I didn't show it.

- You're much stronger than most people. And as for the ale, I must refuse, for I came here on business. The King wishes to see you immediately. We have tried to reassure His Majesty. We hoped you were in no condition to answer the King's questions. But he was adamant. - the old soldier apologised.

- It's all right, Ser Baristan. The King's wish is law! And I am not so exhausted and wounded that I can ignore our king. - I smiled at him and began to pack.

I had to ignore the pain longer than necessary.

I put on my new trousers, shirt and doublet, not forgetting the sword and the kukri dagger I always carry behind me, and went to meet the king. I wish he was in trouble the whole way.....

The old knight led me to the Great Wormhole, where there were all the courtiers, my father, a couple of brothers and nephews, the maester, his apprentice, Varick, Rex, Marik, Gerda and a couple of our boys, the royal guards, Lord Tyrion Lannister, the king and the queen. And while everyone was a little sad, scared and disoriented, Robert was rather annoyed and angry. He must be sitting here now with a hangover. Despite his condition, he couldn't ignore saving "his daughter" Myrcella from certain death. And the deaths of several of his vassals and Jenna Lannister, Jaime and Cersei Lannister's own aunt.

- Your Grace. - and I barely bowed and stood straight. It was the only position that made my back hurt less.

- So you're Damian Rivers? - the king asked. - You bear little resemblance in appearance to most of your kin.

- You're not the first to tell me that. - I allowed myself a small smile. - I look more like my mother.

- Perhaps fortunately. - Robert nodded and grinned. - Come here!

I came within five metres of him and the queen.

- He looks strong. - Robert grinned. - Have you fought in any tournaments or wars?

- Tournaments, yes. Not in full-fledged wars. Only in minor conflicts, chasing dishonest people around the Seven Kingdoms.

- I believe it was you who created the Green Cloaks? - a dwarf interjected into the conversation. - I've heard many flattering things about your troop. Many lords of Spacious, Riverlands, and even a few honest men of the West have had good things to say about your squad. But they call you Blackheart. Why is that?

- Stop asking stupid questions! - Baratheon shouted. - You have a headache enough, dwarf.

- I apologise, Your Grace. - The dwarf bowed courteously. - It was just idle curiosity.

- You Ser Damian saved my daughter, Princess Myrcella. - Cersei spoke for her husband. - And the crown is grateful to you.

- It is. - Robert confirmed it. - Are you Ser Damian endowed with any lands or titles somewhere? Or do you have a wife, a bride, a sweetheart?

- I am Lord Walder Frey's bastard. I have only my sword behind me and my fellow mercenary troop I have assembled and I am captain of these men.

- And how many warriors do you have on hand? - Baratheon asked.

- A little over four hundred.

- That is not a small number. Not even some lords can boast such numbers. You must be a lucky commander, Rivers, to have so many men wanting to fight beside you. - Robert suddenly switched to the first name. Then he got to his feet and smiled. - Ha-ha-ha. The blood in your veins desires a sea of steel and the spilled blood of the enemy. I can see that in you. But here, you won't achieve much. Therefore, you will be my vassal. Will you swear an oath as my lord and loyal servant?

- I will gladly serve you, Your Grace. - and got down on one knee.

I've made my point. I will be given lands and a title. Even if it's not much, I'll get the more mundane benefits of what has happened, besides respect and gratitude.

- You can come up with the name of the new house, motto and coat of arms yourself, but don't forget to submit it to me for approval and to the Citadel, so that those old buggers can check it to make sure it doesn't belong to anyone else.

- Yes, Your Majesty. - I nodded, pretending to be happy about it.

- What lands will Ser Damian be given? If I'm not mistaken, there are no castles or free villages in the King's Lands. - said the Imp.

It's true what little Lannister says. Where will they put me, so beautiful?

- Oh! You're a lot of trouble. - Baratheon frowned angrily and drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. - If it's not the King's Lands, it's the Stormlands! Renly told me he wants to take the last lord of Grievous Town for himself when he dies. He's got the whole region to himself, so it'll be fine. We'll add this castle to the King's Lands and the lands around it, and Ser Damian Rivers will be its lord. And that's the end of it! No, he's also going to escort us to Winterfell. On the way, I want to see what Lord Frey's bastard is made of. - and grinned. - I hope you're as good at swinging a sword as you are at jumping in a river.

- As soon as I've licked my wounds, I'll try to show Your Grace what I'm capable of. - I smiled.

- Good. - Baratheon looked at me approvingly. - Go, heal. I'll have my personal maester, the one I took on the journey, sent to you. He'll make sure you're back on your feet. I've had a few drinks in Baelish's brothel, and he's been as good at getting me back on my feet as that old prick Pycelle.

Cersei Lannister crinkled visibly after the king's last sentence, her lips turning white. Jaime Lannister glared disapprovingly at the king, but he quickly pulled himself together and turned his gaze to me. I looked like a tired man who paid little attention to anything, even the stares of both Tywin Lannister's sons and daughter.

I bowed, wished them well, and retreated to my chambers. Where some of our boys were waiting for me, eager to learn firsthand. But I sent them on a walking tour to a well-known place and lay down to rest.

The departure was delayed four days from the original date. During this time my arm was more or less back to normal, I could use it normally, my brother's tinctures and compresses helped. As for the burns, half of them seem to be gone, and I won't look like a failed version of Sandor Clegane. At least I'll have a normal face. I had to halve my hair, which was also damaged.

I had a conversation with my father and he tried to sell me a dozen more of my relatives, most of whom are boys who are fit to be page or squire. Half of them I didn't like, and I could feel the rottenness in them. Of course I took two of them as page boys, but no more. I told them that as soon as I was settled in my new place, I could marry off my sisters. Walder Frey was pleased that his bastard had done better than most of his recognised heirs.

I was now officially Damian Blackheart. Took my nickname that had stuck with me over the last year as a surname, and it sounded good. I like it. I decided to go with a white lion's head on a red background as my crest. Still, my surname was connected with the Lion of the Night, and I decided to make up a coat of arms according to the same scheme. And yet the lion is a noble and strong animal. With the motto here, the truth is that I thought for a long time and composed together with my comrades a lot of options, but in the end I decided to leave this option: "Fighting in the darkness!".

Quite a good characterisation of me, I think.

Robert grimaced a little at my coat of arms, probably because of his wife's relatives, but he hummed approvingly at the motto, then he gave the go-ahead and sent a raven to Mourning Town to tell them that they would soon have a new master.

I spoke to all my officers and told the common soldiers of my squad that if they wanted to leave or stay in Gemini, it was their right, but my officers and I would definitely stay in my castle. Everyone decided to follow me, or rather, only half a dozen men will go to Winterfell with me, but Varick, as my right-hand man, with the rest of our troop and the wagon, will gather and cross over to Sorrowful Town and will settle there, little by little. After all, I'm a lord now and I need a commander of the guard, and then I'll see on the spot, which of my guys can be put in a warm place in the castle, but so that, as they say, without damage to production.

I took my brother Rex, Gerda, Daren One-Eyed, Tom of the Seven Streams, my squire Ollie, Sigurd Frostbite and Lesho Dardio, five of Rex's boys and five of Lesho's riflemen. Varik, Marik, Lari Shortarm, and Barry Asgen stayed with the main part of the squad, and will be moving south soon. I gave them money to get there not on foot, but on the four-legged friends of any mercenary.

And we travelled with King Robert to the North.

The North was the northernmost region of the Seven Kingdoms, it was also the largest and harshest land in Westeros. But it was also the most sparsely populated. Even the wretched Iron Islands had twice as many inhabitants.

Its borders were delineated by the Wall to the North and the Isthmus to the South. There were frequent snowfalls and rains, and even more frequent winds that could kill a Southerner from Dorne or the Expanse. Even for the small children born here, however, this breeze was no big deal. The First Men who kept their faith in the Old Gods.

The rulers of this region now bear the titles Guardian of the North, though they were once Kings of the North, the last free king, Stark, bowed his head and knee to Aegon the Conqueror. Given the balance of power and the character of the Valyrians, he acted wisely and rationally.

It is often said that the North is larger than the territories of the rest of the kingdoms of Westeros, though this is not true. Still, it is very large, but sparsely populated. In principle, anyone can come to a lord and ask for land to cultivate, and he will give it. But farming in these parts is a rather thankless job. And you can't get the title of lord here for money or cultivation of land, only by military service.

When we began to meet the first natives of the North, and even with weapons, the images of Scandinavians of the 13th-14th centuries came to my mind. The Ironborn are also similar to them, but they are probably a local version of the Vikings of the 9th-10th century. Although actually both of them are the First People, who were not conquered by the Andals and did not accept the faith of the Seven. The Northmen worship the Old Gods, but only the Manderlys here believe in the Seven.

But look, Rex and I will bring a new faith for these lands to Grieftown. Almost all of our "saboteurs", whom we trained with Varik and him, have started to worship the Lion of Night. They have learnt many habits from their direct commander, even wear clothes similar to his and have already moved away from the belief in the Seven (though they didn't really believe in them) and started to offer gifts to the sitting figure of the Lion of Night carved out of white oak, and Varik and Asgen and Olli have become interested in him.

I wonder how the local septon would react to such a thing in my domain, hehehehe.

- Winterfell. - Gerda, who was walking beside me, said quietly and with a huff.

Indeed, we have already reached it so quickly. Well, wait for me Jon Snow....

There will be a sequel...