Blackheart (GoT, Witcher, DC)

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***

Damian Blackheart.

The Riverlands greeted us... as usual.

Without much pathos or admiration, nor did we have much joy either. Just work as they say, though some lords and knights boasted of future victory and trophies in the form of heads of lion soldiers.

In addition to my seven dozen men, I had twenty men at my command, led by Dondarrion, Thoros of Myr with his twenty men, Ser Gladen Wylde with twenty men, and the same number led by Ser Raymen Darry, and three dozen volunteers of sword knights and free riders. I suspect they were hoping to prove themselves and earn a seat at the table with one of the lords, or even me. Well, we'll see. I had a total of one hundred and eighty men on hand, almost half of them mounted, the rest infantrymen and riflemen in roughly equal numbers. Though not all of our mounted men were pure horsemen or knights, there were my brother's subordinates, who are good riders, but prefer partisanship, or bow and crossbow, and there were horse-shooters, as well as just good fighters with a horse. But still, we have a powerful unit. Besides, after a week of travelling the Kingsroad, we arrived at Harrenhal, and sent a raven to Sorrowful to get word of reinforcements. I learnt still on the road though. Confirming my thoughts, after receiving an assignment from Stark, that his dear wife had arrested the Imp and had him escorted to the Eagle's Nest for trial. So it looks like it won't be long before Tywin finishes his men and invades the Riverlands. So I'm going to need my men here. Not all of them, but enough for my machinations. Besides, my father got a raven from me and sent a couple of hundred militia to meet me at Harrenhal.

I asked for militia, former "peasant-hen sons", who will have no place in the Riverlands, and I'll train them in Harrenhal and by the time of the first canon battles, they'll have a young fighter's course in my refinement. And father will help, these guys will get a new life and I don't have to worry about where to get new recruits. It's a war, and I need fresh troops, and preferably a lot of them. There will be casualties anyway, the question is, what kind and when?

Two days after our arrival at Harrenhal, where Lady Went had graciously sheltered us, we received the two hundred recruits from my father's lands. They were led by another bastard and my half-brother Martin Rivers. He had a dozen of his boys with him, which were the only worthwhile fighters among the rabble I'd received. It turned out that Martin had volunteered to come under my hand, he wanted glory and a different future, and I was the standard of pride and inheritance for some of the Freys. Well, I don't mind, I think even Jaime in the canon spoke favourably of him, both as a man and a savvy commander. I tested his skills as a fighter in a training sparring session just in case, and he's pretty good.

That same day came the reply from the Mourner as well. The day before our arrival at the three hundred year old, mighty, even if battered by dragon fire, Harrenhal, Obara had left the harbour with some of her men and the Younger Sons and travelled by sea to Maiden's Pond. Nearly a thousand more infantrymen and Myrian crossbowmen will follow them.

But I'm not worried about my fiefdom, Larry, Donald, and Asgen, who I sent there. And I have about 1,500 men there, including my vassals and their men.

Larry and Donald continue to train the youth for future battles.

The day after my father's militia arrived, I left them in Harrenhal under the care of Gerda, Tom and Daren, as well as a dozen good fighters and knights as instructors to train them while we raid against the Westerners. We were joined by Martin Rivers and his small entourage, so the raid had the same number of men as originally planned. Well almost, Lady Went, decided to separate herself from the River Lords and allocated us three dozen militia and a half dozen horsemen.

Funny thing is, neither Lord Hoster nor his son Edmar Tully even bothered to respond to my raven or send their men to help. Well, I'll remind them of that, purely out of spite, and spread the rumour that they don't give a shit about their vassals and are very bad uncles in general....

Intelligence and eyewitnesses reported that Lorch and his men were travelling between the Falling Falls, the Stone Sept and Castlewood, Lord Harlton's castle.

So we travelled there.

Of course, I had taken into account the bitter experience of canon Berrik and sent regular scouts to all sides of the world and we were aware of what was going on around us.

And my fears did not fail me. At one point near the Burly Falls we spotted a detachment of Amory Lorch. He had about two hundred and fifty soldiers, plus they had a wagon load of women and girls, those peasant girls who had survived the sacking of the villages and were now serving as bed warmers for them. Typical of such times.

I chose night time to attack. I needed to get close to Lorch's camp, who had done a good job of setting up and guarding it. He doesn't seem to have a brilliant mind, but he's not a complete fool, unlike some of the smug turkeys from the Spaceland and Stormlands.

I left all the real mounted knights and fighters for the third wave of the offensive. My saboteurs and archers would go first, the infantry second already.

Everything went almost according to plan. The first wave of riflemen scattered around the positions to fire on command, and the saboteurs prepared to attack. I gave the command, and those threw first cocktails, and then there was a continuous stream of arrows that knocked out first of all the commanders and all the largest fighters.

But then it turned out that when the second wave of my lads went in and I was getting the third wave of my cavalrymen ready, we discovered that a large force of about two hundred snouts under the banners of the Brave Boys was heading towards us from the south-east.

We noticed it because it was getting light, it was about five in the morning.

- Here you are, Vargo Howth. - I muttered, looking at the squad leaders leading their men, and I thought I saw Hout himself in his goat-like helmet.

- What are we going to do? - Berrick asked me.

- Fight on two fronts, alas, we have no other option. Let the first two groups of our boys deal with Amory Lorch, and we'll work hard to get Hout to the other side. Listen up! - I shouted to all the commanders around me. - We'll split into two groups, the first will consist of the militia that Lady Went gave us and a dozen of your foot soldiers Lord Berrik, as well as a few dozen horsemen will be here. You, Lord Berrick, and the rest of your men will go round Hout and his men from the east and hit them in the rear when we're already fighting them. John? - I turned to my squire. - You lead the foot soldiers, prepare the cocktails.

- Yes, my lord!" His eyes lit up, though I could sense some apprehension and fear in them. So far he had only commanded a guard or a troop, but nearly fifty men on foot was new to him, though he had all the theory and had observed much of the practice. - I will not fail you!

- I hope so. - I nodded to him approvingly. - Remember that you are a wolf! Don't forget that, and over there - I pointed in the direction of Hout's men. - Goats, sheep and hares. Your job is to roast them and eat them to death. You're a predator, remember that, John. Don't forget anything I've taught you, anything I've talked to you about.

- I will not, my lord. - There's more determination and confidence in his eyes now. Even his direwolf growled and howled proudly into the sky.

- Good, now everyone knows their place in the battle. Let's go, sires and lords!

- Let's put the heat on the bastards! - shouted Martin Rivers.

- Let's cut the lions' heads off! - Berrick seconded him.

We prepared for battle.

I with the remaining cavalry stood behind the infantry commanded by John, watching the burning of Lorch's camp and my men slaughtering the lions, I realised that Varick Falcon, who was in command there now, would regroup his men and back us up when he had dealt with Lorch. He's a man with brains and will know what to do.

A bit of waiting and then it started.

As soon as their advance cavalry unit approached our militia, John ordered to throw Molotov cocktails at them, and in a couple of seconds the first ranks of Hout's cavalrymen lit up like torches. The few riders who had crossbows, myself included, fired a couple of shots each and then on both flanks we went into close combat while the militia held off a new onslaught of fresh and unburnt Lannister forces. The Lannisters knew their business and did a good job of chopping down the militia, though it should be noted that they fought fiercely.

To my luck I managed to choose the first opponent to be the commander of the "goat helmet" squad Hout, who tried to make a chopping blow from above, but I threw a knife into his hand, which was not strongly protected and he dropped his sword from the pain, and I had already cut off his head together with a disgusting as to my taste helmet. Then I had no chance to be cunning and had to draw a second sword from its sheath, which was fixed on my horse, and fight in two hands against two knights. One I killed almost immediately with the second had to be fought, and only on the fifth manoeuvre I cut off his arm at the elbow, and then the head was blown off, then I already lost one sword with a new opponent, and the left hand that held it was wounded by an arrow. But after a little time with him, I sent him to the dust by driving the blade into his eye socket. But then I was pulled from my horse by one of the hasty knights, and I even recognised him from the description of his armour and helmet; it was the real Amory Lorch, who had somehow got among the Brave Boys and the few soldiers of Tywin Lannister.

He was unarmed, but he had a shield he wanted to smash my head with. I'd lost my helmet in the fall from my horse.

I rolled back in time and the edge of the shield sank deep into the ground. He's a fat old man, but he's got plenty of strength.

I rolled back and kicked him on the knee, then kicked him in the head with my other foot, but I had to roll over because of the infantrymen who were trying to string me up like a chicken on a spit. My arm hurt, but it was bearable. During the rolls I broke the arrow shaft, but luckily the wound was not covered with mud. So there should be no gangrene.

To my rescue came already my faithful and brave, and also very skilful squire together with Nymeria Sand. Nymeria deftly parried the attacks of the less experienced spear-wielding foot soldiers of the west with her Dornish style (though she was still far from Obara), and John blew off the head of another knight who had come to the fight with his half-torch. Then I heard a loud shout:

- "Beat the false knights! - It was Dondarrion's voice.

The cavalry has arrived!

As ridiculous as that phrase may seem now, it is appropriate in this situation.

Some inexperienced newcomer tried to charge at me. He swung a half-armoured sword, but I ducked, let it go over me, and knocked the boy down, who dropped his sword.

I got on top of him, and with my fist I hit him in the throat, the force of the blow, fuelled by my rage and bloodlust, I broke it, and he choked on the blood. I grabbed a dagger from my belt and threw it at one of Nymeria's two opponents, hitting him in the throat. It was easier for her now, and while I picked up the sword of the recruit I'd killed, she finished off her last opponent. She turned her head towards me for a moment and nodded, and I nodded back.

In the commotion of the battle, I spotted Amory Lorch, who seemed to have blown half of Ser Wylde's head off.

I moved my sword to meet him, another cavalryman tried to charge at me, but he was intercepted by Dondarrion, so I could deal with Lorch in peace.

I could feel the heat and joy spilling over my body, the world seemed to slow down around me, the mode I had awakened in myself on the Cape of Wrath reasserting itself. And I want blood!

- Amory Lorch! I want your blood! Ha-ha-ha-ha! Come here, you fat pig! - he jerked like a stung man.

Suddenly there was a low chorus of voices from my men, who had been with me since the beginning of this little battle, and as it turned out the warriors under Varick's leadership had arrived:

One, two, Blackheart is coming your way,

Three, four, knives out,

Five, six, keep your eyes open,

Seven, eight, don't mess with him,

Nine, ten, he's coming for you.

Eleven, twelve, run faster!

Thirteen, who didn't hide, it's not his fault....

For some reason I was standing there in a trance, I don't know how lucky I was that I didn't get hit in the head with an arrow, but I went forward towards Lorch.

I don't remember exactly how our little duel went, but I do remember how I blew his head off and the blood gushed upwards.

I must have developed a fetish for severed heads. It occurred to me that it might be a good idea to put that head on a spike in Mourning Town, as well as Clegane's head, which is already there. I'll make a "Peak Alley with heads" there, it'll be a local landmark.

But beyond that.

It wasn't from the blood that ran into my eyes, no, it was a deepened form of my "berserk mode", as I realised later.

The battle blurred for me into chaotic images of me chopping down opponents and leading my men into battle.

At some point I even started to come to my senses, surrounded by a pile of chopped bodies and a bloody axe that was all scarlet with blood, but surprisingly not slippery. Maybe because I had gripped the handle tightly and wielded it, I don't know.

But new banners loomed on the horizon, bearing an inverted golden triangle on a blue field with a sun in the left corner. These were the men of Lord Leo Lefford of the Golden Tooth.

I commanded all my men to fall in line, noting with a glance that they had been augmented by men with a banner bearing a white bald chartreuse on a green field. I think they were the Hartletons.

After that, my memory went blank again.

I woke up not on the battlefield, but in a familiar tent. My tent, where I was lying and looking up with one eye, the other was bandaged. My right arm was a little sore, my left arm I couldn't feel at all, both my legs were sore, as well as my body.

- Fuck! - I swore.

There was the sound of something falling to the ground.

A few seconds later that 'something' came running towards me and I saw a sleepy looking John with a black eye and a bandaged hanging left arm.

- 'My lord, how are you? - He asked worriedly.

- I'm not well. Most everything hurts, and what doesn't hurt I can't feel. What about my eye and my left arm?

- You almost lost your eye in the battle, but it's intact, but it will be scarred, the maester says. Your arm is also better than it could have been. You had three arrows in it, your palm was shattered by a mace, and it was dislocated before you were stunned. Probably as a result of that. - and blushed. I think I know who knocked me out in there. - You had multiple wounds and both your legs were broken. But our Maester Daelin says that, thanks to what you told him about Eastern medicine, you'll be healed faster, and you'll be able to pick up the sword again soon. - he smiled faintly. - But your left palm... three or four of your fingers were shattered. And they will probably not heal properly. Very severe damage.

- Fetch the Maester. Also Varick.

- Ser Varick the Falcon is on his way to meet Lady Obara with reinforcements. They've almost reached us. Or rather, they were in Harrenhal when her messenger arrived.

- I see, and who are the officers?

- Lesho, Ser Theo Frey, Lady Gerda Barley, as well as Lords Berrick Dondarrion and Arwood Harlton.

- Don't touch the lords yet. Bring Lesho and Theo and our Maester first. And Gerda-- Whoa! What's she doing here? She's supposed to be at Harrenhal.

- In the middle of the battle, she came with fifty more Frey soldiers that your father sent after her, and she led them, or rather, led them to us. And as luck would have it, we had a few more warriors during the battle with Howth. And after that, when Lord Lefford and his troop came to us, and Lord Harlton and his hundred soldiers sought us out on the other side. In the end, we defeated three of the main Lannister forces at once. We lost almost half our men, but we still won.

- I see. Well, lead them. - I nodded and leaned back against the pillow.

- Yes, sir! - and immediately jumped out of the tent.

Shit! I should have asked for water. I'm terribly thirsty.

After many minutes, the four aforementioned men and John came in.

I noticed right away that my guys got hit too. Lesho had a scar on his left cheek, but he was still grinning like a fool, Theo, like John, had a bandaged hand, but already on his right, a couple of black eyes and limped on his left leg, though no, he was wounded in his side, as he sat down on the chest. Gerda was probably the only one with a bandaged head, probably just bruised from hitting the ground. Good thing it wasn't fatal. Where am I going to find another berserker this cute? I don't count!

Our Maester immediately started examining me.

- What's wrong with my palm, Maester? - I asked him at once, interrupting Theo, who only wanted to speak.

- Alas, four of your fingers, except for the thumb, are broken and will probably not fuse properly, though I will do my best to see that you can use it in battle. But you should be able to hold a spoon or fork.

- Why can't I feel my whole left arm?

- It's probably because of the potions I gave you while you were unconscious. Master Rex has some very specific remedies.

- I see. How long have I been lying here?

This time it was Theo who spoke.

- We had a battle that lasted until lunchtime. And you were knocked out at the end to calm you down, because you were feared by everyone from our soldiers to Lord Leo Lefford, who shit himself when you crawled to him with broken legs and only one working arm. - he chuckled. - You used a dagger to crawl back then. Covered in the blood and entrails of his soldiers, quite a sight for some.

- Tell me what happened after I cut off Lorch's head. - I asked him.

- After Lorch, it was like you went crazy. You shouted something in an unknown language covered in blood and went into a frontal attack, we barely had time to cover you, although it seems to me that our help you did not really need then. You were like a berserker breaking into the ranks of the lions' foot soldiers, and we followed. Varik had already arrived with his men, and we were fighting against the remnants of Hout's squad. Gerda came up at the same time.

- I found you by accident. I thought I would lead your father's squad to the Stone Sept and wait for news about you from there, or get information about new attacks and go there to find you. But we bumped into you on the way.

- Right. Go on, Theo.

- Ahem. Next, after we'd disposed of the Brave Boys and taken a few prisoners, just some really desperate resistance, we were joined by a hundred warriors led by Arwood Harlton. About the same time a large detachment of four hundred of Lefford's men appeared on the horizon. We regrouped and took up a defensive position.

- And the funny and surprising thing is that you commanded everything from the front ranks and almost the same as in previous times. - Gerda remarked in amazement.

It's an interesting symbiosis. It turns out that even if I'm in this state, I can still give sensible commands? It is certainly good, but with this state of berserk need to do something. Train myself to use it only when I want to, or one day I may not be so lucky.

- My Lord. - John clearly mustered up the courage to speak. - I apologise for hitting you at the end of the battle. You were behaving inadequately, and I had to do it to keep you from hurting yourself. I behaved unworthily as your man and as a squire.

- Forget it. - I waved weakly with my right hand, the only one I could move right now. - You did the right thing. I was a little out of it at the time. The heat of battle got the better of me, and you, as a loyal squire, helped me... in your own way. I'm even grateful to you.

- But... beyond that, I barely saved the militia you gave me.

- Militia? Ha! You don't have the experience I have, and the militia had no equipment and no training, limping like an old donkey. I'm surprised any of them survived the battle. How many, by the way?

- A dozen and a half, and another half a dozen of Lord Dondarrion's men.

- That's pretty good. I put you in charge because I knew you wouldn't run and make those militia fight. I wasn't worried about you, you can take care of yourself, but ordinary soldiers are sometimes timid and need a leader. And you and your wolf Ghost are very imposing.

- Do you really think so? - He got excited.

- Of course I do. Why should I lie? You have a long life ahead of you, I hope, and you will have both victories and defeats, but your goal is not to lose heart, but to realise your mistakes, to become stronger and smarter, and maybe even more cunning. You won't achieve anything if you stand still all the time, movement is life and downtime is death.

- I see your point, my lord.

- Shit. I've had it with my lord John, I asked you to call him by his first name.

- No." He shook his head in denial. - I am your squire.

- Ha! Fuck you. Give me some water.

- Right away. - and stepped aside.

- I hope I didn't do anything else weird. - I asked Theo.

The whole trio grinned and looked at each other. I don't like it.

- Well, how can I put it? - smirked Gerda. - During the battle, when you were still at full strength and with both hands, you saved Nymeria Sand from death. She was surrounded by four opponents, but you rushed to her, chopped the heads off two of them, put your axe in the chest of the third, and the mace that almost reached Sand's head, you stopped it with your hand, snatched it out of the hands of the crazy Lefford soldier and smashed his skull with it. And you yelled: "DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH MY NIMERIA!" And then you yelled something else in that language you and Rex often speak. I can't tell you exactly what it was.

Fucking hell!

- Was she conscious?

- Oh, yeah!" Barley purred contentedly.

Well, it could have been better.

- Is that it?

- Oh, no. - supported Gerda, Lesho. - You intercepted Nymeria with your free hand, threw her on your shoulder, slapped her on the arse and rushed to the rear, handed her over to her little sister Tiena, who was with the archers and said it seems... "If both of you still stick out on the front line without proper skills, I'll fuck each of you in the arse!" - that's what the younger Sande told me anyway. After that, you went back into battle and slashed everyone and everything with some kind of sword and dagger.

Fucking hell!

What am I worried about, though. Fuck it. I'm not going to marry them, so--

- This is the dagger you got in battle, my lord. - John handed me a genuine Valyrian steel dagger.

It was about forty centimetres long, the hilt was made of wood and inlaid with precious stones, and the blade was black and blue with a touch of redness.

- We don't know which of the fallen enemies it belonged to, but I think it belonged to one of the noble ones. - Theo said.

- I see.

- Amazing! - Our Maester marvelled at the incomprehensible. - Only two days ago you came to me with many wounds and fractures, and today most of your wounds have healed, and you are thinking very clearly, clearly and quickly. Your body is healing faster, my lord, than most people I've worked with before you. It must be the Seven themselves favouring you, or your god the Lion of the Night.

- Fortune favours the brave. - I smiled at him. - How long do I have to lie like this?

- If the pace of your recovery continues, you should be able to try crutches in a dozen days. Your legs are broken, but they'll heal properly.

It's a shame I hurt my legs like that. On the bright side though, there are no really big units in the Riverlands that we should be facing right now, so we can get some rest. Still need to keep up to date with all the news though.

We should start by organising some punitive groups of new arrivals to drive the remnants of the Lannister gangs out of the Riverlands, and then we'll see what happens.

I still need to keep abreast of the latest news. The canon has been corrected a bit by my appearance, and some events may go a bit wrong chronologically and with the wrong faces. But the starting point will be the death of Robert Baratheon. He will be ordered to be killed. Not Cersei, but Baelish or Varys. They'll do their best.

After my boys gave me a detailed account of the battle we won, I learnt the numbers of our forces that remained after the battle. Disappointing results, but they were not without them. All the lords and heads of knightly houses that came with me from King's Landing are dead, except for Thoros of Myr and Berrick Dondarrion. Even those have minor wounds, and most of their soldiers are dead, as well as most of the soldiers of the fallen nobles. Of my original seven dozen, only three remain, and even then half are wounded. Only six of the Dornish survived, not including the snake sisters. Most of Lady Went's men are also dead. Lord Harlton has half his men killed and a third of the survivors wounded. That's why we've been camped near the battlefield for two days. Gerda's squad has the least casualties, with only five dead, three maimed and a dozen lightly wounded.

If I had at least fifty more of my Green Cloak foot soldiers, the losses would have been less. But it was too late for regrets.

After half an hour I let everyone go and started to rest.

Already in the evening most of our reinforcements arrived, led by Varik and Obara. Obara didn't come to me yet, Varik reported that Obara was with my fleet that delivered soldiers to Maiden's Pond, there was a storm and three galleys sank. As a result, we now had only seven hundred men in our camp, mostly Dornish cavalrymen and pikemen. But there were also mercenaries of the Second Sons. Daario Naharis is staying with Lady Went for now with most of his men and some more of Obara's men. There are about a thousand men there. I don't think the old lady is happy anymore that she has to take care of the "king's men". But who's gonna ask her? All the more reason for her to be glad I decided not to go back to her camp. Otherwise we'd really eat her up.

And then, near midnight, Obara came to me.

She was a little agitated and even scared.

- How are you? - She said reverently, pulling the blanket off me and scrutinising my new scars.

- Pretty good. I just can't walk yet. - I kept my cheerfulness, though I didn't understand her mood at first. And I was surprised. - Why the reaction?

- I gathered rumours around the camp and came to the conclusion that you're already dying. - she sighed with relief and looked at me.

And I noticed that she looked at me with a kind of... tenderness (?). A smile touched her face, and she tucked the blanket in.

- I'm glad you're okay. - And then she kissed me, not with passion as usual, but with tenderness and care.

- Too much tenderness and care, compared to Obar's last time. You're not sick, are you? - I asked her when the kiss was over.

- No." She shook her head. - I just love you. And I'm glad you're okay.

I was surprised by that admission, because she sounded sincere, and that could mean trouble. Especially under the circumstances that are coming.

But the situation was saved in a way by Varick, who flew over to us, and without paying even a passing glance at Sand, turned straight to me.

- A messenger has arrived from Harrenhal, ravens have been sent out to all the Seven Kingdoms with the news... King Robert Baratheon is dead!

Now it seems the real trouble has begun....

Continued to follow...