Blackheart (GoT, Witcher, DC)

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***

Damian Rivers.

The journey was, though not close, quite pleasant.

There were no incidents as such. No pirate attacks, no storms. Peace and quiet. I even had a suspicion that if we arrived in Braavos, there would be a local armageddon with our participation. My gut was still silent, and so I was enjoying the voyage more than nervous. But the worm of doubt did not go away.

The noise of the sea waves, the headwind, which was walking on the deck - all this in a way pacified. I begin to understand the ironborn with their love for ships, and especially for the sea. I, though a "land rat", felt absolutely free, not once remembering the problems that await us in the near future. Apparently, the mysterious influence of the Narrow Sea makes you forget about everything in the world. Although, perhaps, it is because of the monotony in Westeros that I have such feelings. Here the boys were weakly relaxing. They, of course, were also not particularly worried and enjoyed the journey to Braavos, but it did not make a strong impression on them.

The journey took a little over a month and a half. I was surprised at the speed of our arrival, for it had taken us almost a month to get from the Riverlands to Staromest, for example. Then Harven told me that the ship had had a breakdown that had slowed us down a bit, but we were still travelling fast enough to stop in small towns for a day or two. So the journey to Braavos was pretty normal.

I thought this town would be smaller and more modest than its series version, but no. It had more in common with the book description. The first thing that caught our eye was the Braavos Titan, sixty metres tall if not more, cast in bronze and incredibly detailed - his muscles and clothes were as if they were real. We sailed between his legs and found ourselves already in the city, proceeding straight to the Cage Port, where we were inspected by local customs officials for half a day. And then we found ourselves not in the Garbage Pond, but in the Purple Harbour. As it turned out, for some special reason our dear friend had managed to squeeze out an opportunity to moor his ships there.

After a while, Harven escorted us to a nice tavern called the Red Sunset and retired to his partner's business, leaving us to our own devices for the time being. Though, of course, I'd drawn up a duty schedule and sent men to guard the cargo, but all the uninvolved were out walking today.

Not surprisingly, half of us decided to take a tour of the city.

Braavos stood on islands rising slightly above the sea. There were many large and tall buildings here, at least more than Riverrun, Lannisport, Staromest or Highgarden. Beautiful houses, the Aqueduct, and the canals and gondolas that took people around the city. I loved that town. And even more so after I learned from a mercenary we ran into on the way to the market that there was a fight club in town: a mixture of fighting pits and jousting tournaments. But there was nothing noble about it; it was mostly free men fighting, because slavery was forbidden in the city. And, as this mercenary told his drunken friend, there was a good way to make money there, and to find a patron.

Not that I needed any of that, but it was interesting to see. About the fight clubs, I didn't see anything in either the show or the book. Not much time was given to Braavos, though, and there was hardly any important action there. So, mentions...

I found out where one of these fight clubs was located pretty soon. It wasn't a big secret, so it wasn't hard to get there. We went there with Larry, Marik, Varik and Asgen. The latter was a Braavosian, but he had never been to these "clubs", spending more time in his neighbourhood, and when he grew up, he started travelling a lot.

The club fights were held in ordinary big houses with spacious basements. These cellars reminded me of wine cellars. Although I can only judge from one such place, I've only heard about the others.

The fights were both fist fights and fights with weapons - everything depended on the wishes of the participants. They ended with the disarming of the opponent, less often with his death. It was also allowed to interrupt the fight, if one of the participants admitted defeat.

There were enough people here, and quite diverse: from rich traders to poor people who decided to watch this action.

Among the participants there were also enough colourful shots. For example, there were Negroes, narrow-eyed people, people of distinctly Dornish appearance, Valyrian, Dothraki, I think there were Westerosians too. It just doesn't say where they're from exactly. Even women were allowed to join the fights. It was particularly interesting to watch one Amazon from the Hyrkun Fiefdom fight. An interesting beast, and pretty hot....

Lari and Asgen decided to participate after a few fights. I just watched.

The fighters here were really interesting. Experienced knights, experienced mercenary warriors, green newbies, and just townspeople who decided to try their luck and win some money. As a rule, they were either killed or lost their battles.

Lari won his fight, or rather, the opponent was his compatriot, who after a long and exhausting fight preferred to surrender to his fellow countryman and recognise his skills. They had a drink afterwards. I hinted to Lari that it would be nice if he joined us, but it turned out that the nameless Dornian was already in the same mercenary company and would not go with us. Asgen had fought a great fight, but he lost to another Braavosian who was one of the best swordsmen in the city. At least it was not so upsetting, and he gained useful experience. It would have been impossible to lure this master to us, he was already in the service of someone from the Iron Bank, and it was better not to mess with such personnel.

I spent most of the night watching the others fight and thinking about who I could get to join my squad. There were a few decent options, but they either refused, preferring not to travel the world, or were already busy with other services or plans.

I returned to the tavern alone, the boys having stayed for a drink in a cheap brothel.

Braavos was as beautiful by night as it was by day, a certain romance and danger at the same time.

I was followed by three men with obviously bad intentions. Frightening to the average person, but not to me. I was prepared to meet them, but the unexpected happened. I was helped to fend them off, or rather, as soon as I turned round at the sudden noise, I saw a figure about my height in black robes taking out a dagger from the last corpse.

The stranger slowly rose from his knee and turned to me, tucking the weapon into his sleeve.

It was like an electric shock: I saw before me a local assassin, just like in an American game. Even his clothes were the same, only black in colour, and he wore a rag mask over his face. Only his eyes, scarlet as blood, were visible.

He stood still, didn't move or speak, so I was the first to break the silence:

- Thank you for your help. Why did you help me?

He didn't answer, staring at me silently. As if he was comparing me to someone or something.

I decided to try to build bridges after all. After all, I hadn't smelled him or noticed him, and he'd killed those three faster than I could have on my own. Though, with the adrenaline playing in my blood...

- I could have handled them myself, but thanks. Can I buy you a drink? Do you have any free time?

- Lion of the Night. That's who you owe your life to," he said in a quiet but pleasant voice. - I am but a mediator of his will," he pointed his finger in the direction. - To him you owe a bloody price.

I turned my head, and across the canal and street I could see a dome-shaped structure whose purpose I didn't know, but when I turned back, the assassin was gone.

- Mysticism, my arse! - I cursed, and decided to return to the tavern just in case.

I woke up the next morning with a headache and a firm resolve to find out more about that temple. And who was this Lion of Night?

Asgen helped me. He first rubbed it in that we should take his old friend and distant relative, whom they met in a brothel at night. He's a "bravi" - the local equivalent of a dueling gopnik in colourful clothes. Varik said he'd already tested his skills and they weren't bad. He's only good with a sword, though. He can't shoot a bow, but he's still good with a spear. After some thought, I instructed him to join the squad and explain our laws and regulations. If he agrees to conform to them, he's welcome. If he's going to be a bravi on the streets of this city, or a braggart like the other bravos, he's welcome.

And then I shut up the joyful Braavosian, who had almost drawn his acquaintance to our squad, and told him about the situation with the assassin and this Lion of the Night. There was a glimpse of such a name in the book, but either I wasn't reading carefully or there really wasn't much written about him.

- Hm. You puzzle me, Damian," Asgen rubbed his beard. - The Lion of Night is an ancient religious cult that came to Braavos with the first settlers. But its original homeland is I-Ti. He is a rather formidable god, associated with death and destruction. He seems to be considered the husband of another goddess, the Maiden of Light, and in addition the father of God-on-Earth, the legendary first emperor of the Great Empire of Dawn. He came to earth in anger during the Long Night, bringing punishment to his enemy. I know there's also a legend that the Five Fortresses serve as a defence against the Lion of Night. It's unclear why the I-Tians worship him if they're so afraid of him... There's a large temple dedicated to him in the city. There is also a statue and altar of the Lion of Night in the Black-White House, the home of the Faceless Ones. The Faceless Ones consider him to be one of the incarnations of their Many-Faced One, the god of death. The wealthy of Braavos favour this altar, and frequent its temple. As for your saviour of the night, I don't even know who he is. I've heard rumours that the cultists of the Lion of Night have their own spies and assassins, but I haven't really looked into it. And I guess all religious fanatics have people like that. The only thing to watch out for is that they might think you owe a debt to your god. But who knows what they're thinking?

Interesting how the girls dance. All I need is a religious fight. If I was alone, I could easily get out of town quietly. But I can't leave my squad. Such a waste of funds and resources would make me sick to my stomach. But maybe I'm exaggerating and misunderstood the words of that assassin. Anyway, it's not customary in Essos or Westeros to kill guests when they come in peace and gum. So I guess if I go to visit them once, it won't be a big deal. And the cultists themselves must realise that I officially believe in the Seven, and in this city any religion is welcome. I've seen a sept, a temple of R'Glor, the House of the Great Shepherd, and even a shabby-looking Chardrave, to say nothing of many other things. So it's too soon to worry.

- Would you like to go to this temple of the Lion of Night? - I asked Aseng.

- Aren't you afraid? - He smirked.

- Fear the wolves, don't go into the forest.

- But there's a lion there," he smiled even wider.

- I don't care if it's a hippopotamus! - I smiled back, and got a nod. - They won't kill me if I refuse to accept their faith, will they?

- That's not welcome here. The local authorities will hang you by your balls for such an attack on another religion," the Braavosian assured me.

- Great. We'll take some more of ours for insurance and be on our way in an hour.

And so we set off. Besides Asgen, Barry One-Eyed, Gerda, Varick, Lari, who also wanted to see the inside of the temple, and Ben came with me.

The Temple of the Lion of Night was indeed not bad up close, somewhat reminiscent of an ancient Greek temple.

The width of the Temple of the Lion of Night was fifty metres by eye, the length over a hundred and fifty, the height of the columns, both exterior and interior, was about two dozen metres. The dome of the temple, covered with silver paint, was supported by as many as sixty-six columns set in a circle from the centre, where, in fact, there was an elaborate marble statue of the deity. It was the body of a man with the head of a lion, seated on a throne of gold. The interior decoration of the temple was also at a decent level: a lot of precious stones and metals helped to imbue the majesty of this deity. The walls were decorated with frescoes and paintings depicting battles unknown to me. There were almost no people in the temple, only a couple of servants wrapped in white and purple cloaks and a few worshippers, who were obviously local rich people.

We stayed close to each other and didn't move far apart.

- You are not from here, and this is your first time at the Lion of Night? - An elderly voice sounded. From behind a pillar came what appeared to be a priest. His short figure was covered by a white and purple hooded cloak. He waddled slowly toward me as he continued his monologue: "A Westerosi, but not an ordinary one. We don't get many Westerosi. Your countrymen, young warrior, prefer to come to the Godswood, the Temple of the Seven, or R'Glor's abode. What brings you here?

- Accident," I smiled at him. - Yesterday, one of your... parishioners or servants helped me fend off robbers and said some strange things about your temple...

- Did he tell you about the "blood price"? - The hood was pulled down heavily, revealing only his chin and lips stretched in a smile.

- He did, honoured priest. What does that mean? Am I to make a contribution to the temple treasury? Or should I repay that man in some other way? Alas, I don't know the customs here.

- Don't worry, young man. You know what the blood price is. It's just that you've never phrased what you've done before this day in that way. People are used to playing with the feelings of their kin, and they like to play with words even more. "Iron price" - are you familiar with that expression?

- Yes. I know a lot about the ironborn.

- It's a bit similar," the old man coughed and stepped aside. - Come with me, I'll show you something and tell you a story that will interest you.

I signalled to my men to stay where they were. It would be easier for me to escape alone than to rely on the others and put them "under fire".

We walked not far - ten metres to one niche, in which stood a statue no longer of a god, but of a beautiful woman.

- This is the Maiden of Light. The consort of our god. When they were reunited, they gave birth to a son who led an entire empire. But few know that they had several other daughters who inherited their father's thirst for battle and destruction. Although they had the ability to create life within their wombs, they still preferred to spend their time fighting. The daughters of the Lion of Night and the Maiden of Light left behind other children, both male and female. But the women were outnumbered. It so happened that the descendants of the Lion of Night had more beautiful female warriors than male ones. And those, as a rule, were born without willpower, unlike their sisters and mothers, and without bloodlust. But sometimes there are exceptions. You've seen Rex, he's the son of one such warrior. Just like you.

That's where he took me aback. I was about to ask her name, but he pulled back his hood, and I saw his eyes. They were the same as mine - scarlet.

- Yes, my grandson, you thought right. She is my daughter, and Rex is your cousin, the son of my other daughter. You have both become the lions that live in battle and bathe in blood. True children of our God, and I am proud of that. Fate has brought you back to the place where your ancestors grew up for a reason. You understand that, don't you? You're not really from this world, are you?

At those words I wanted to kill my grandfather, but I restrained myself. He saw my fright and smiled:

- You won't have time to kill me, Damian," and pointed his finger behind my back.

Drops of sweat ran down my back again. I knew what was behind it, but I turned and saw not only my cousin Rex, as it turned out, but three other assassins.

- They'd been trained from childhood to kill people. Well, it's in their blood, just like you. You may have taken my grandson's place, but at heart you are a child of the Lion of the Night.

- How do you know all this? About me and my origins and that I would come to you in Braavos? And why did you want to meet me?

- Many questions, but you deserve to know the truth. And you will know it," he signalled with his hand, and the three assassins left, leaving Rex and me with my grandfather. - The warriors of the Lion of the Night do not like to raise their children, they make very bad mothers, so they grow up in other families. And when the time comes, the boys either come to us at the call of their hearts or we take them away. Your mother got pregnant with you in the Riverlands and thought you belonged there. So she kept you. A year after you were born, she was with her mercenary band in the Disputed Lands, where she died. She never told us where in Westeros she left her child. We looked for you, but we didn't find you until you were fifteen. Then the Lion of Night himself appeared to me in a dream and told me not to touch you, telling me you had a different destiny. We've been waiting for your arrival, and here you are.

- Funny story. Grandfather. Don't be impertinent, but I don't believe in gods. I don't worship them.

The old man laughed:

- So young and so foolish. Let him. You may not believe it, but very soon you will see the truth of these words. Come to the statue of our god and you will realise that I am telling the truth. Don't be afraid, even if you don't fulfil our hopes, you'll be safe. You are free to leave the temple even now, without approaching the True God. No one will say a word or do you any harm. The choice is yours.

After some thought, I decided to go to the centre of the temple to the Lion of Night and look at this miraculous creature up close. Both Rex and my newfound grandfather stayed back while my boys took in the sights. Varick even managed to start hitting on some rich woman.

I looked again at the statue of the deity and saw nothing new for me. I don't know how these relatives of mine knew about my real origin and what they wanted, but it was a waste of time....

At that moment, I accidentally looked into the eyes of the Lion of Night, which immediately began to bleed. That's when it hit me. I wanted to move away and call someone - my parents or the guys from my squad - to show it to them, but the next moment I realised that I could not take my eyes off the Lion of the Night, who seemed to have his own eyes in mine, nor move from where I was standing, nor speak, as if I had no tongue. Very soon the whole "white" of my eye was absolutely red, and in the centre of these two red circles two small glowing dots appeared. And in one short instant they flashed, blinding me.

After that, I began to see some ancient events mixed in with present day events, taking place in Braavos, Essos, and Westeros alike.

The first thing I saw was a battle between the dead and the living. Two figures stood out among them. I couldn't make out exactly who they were, but one figure was blue and white, and the other was dressed in black and carrying weapons that blazed in their hands. They fought to the death, and in the end the dark figure pierced the second figure through the heart with its flaming weapon. That was the end of the first vision.

Next was a beautiful city, the most beautiful I had ever seen in my life. Braavos was a pale shadow in comparison. I took my eyes off the buildings only to see the majestic creatures soaring through the sky. They were dragons, dozens of them. All this wonderment was interrupted by an eerie sound and an earthquake that knocked me to the ground. And when I got up, I saw that half of the city was sinking under the ground, the mountain that was next to the city had turned into an erupting volcano, and the dragons were somehow falling down.

The new vision appeared like a still from a TV series. Sure enough, the men in black robes I saw were brothers of the Night's Watch. They were stabbing one of their own with daggers and shouting something. I couldn't see, but I could guess who was dying now.

Then the location changed again. I saw two people: a man and a woman with, as they say, Aryan looks. They were kissing, and then they started to undress and made love to each other. On the wall of the room where this was happening, I noticed a banner - a black deer on a golden field.

This was followed by a vision of a battle, which I recognised immediately - the Battle of the Trident. Two horsemen met in a duel, a "dragon" and a "stag." Robert Baratheon soon killed Rhaegar Targaryen, and that was the end of another vision.

Following that, dozens of other events whizzed by. Some I knew from canon, and with some I couldn't figure out what they meant or when they were. Eventually I saw the last vision. It was a chartreuse with a carved symbol of the seven, beneath which lay the bloody corpse of a woman dressed in red. As I wanted to approach the body and see who it was, I realised that it had started to rain blood in that place. And then I began to be pulled out of this abyss of visions. It was as if I was flying upwards and very soon I was above that place at a bird's-eye height. But even this was not the limit: I rose higher and higher to the heavens, seeing not hills, plains or forests, but continents beneath me.

- FIND THE CHOSEN ONE! HELP THE CHOSEN ONE, MY CHILD! - came a creepy, but somehow pleasant voice in my head at the same time.

And at that moment I found myself back in the temple....

Blinking, I saw that the statue was fine - no glow or bloodshot eyes.

- Did you see that? - Standing next to me was my grandfather, whose name I didn't know, but I didn't care about that now. - Do you believe the gods exist now? And that you're not just a traveller and a mercenary?

- A voice, I heard a voice..." I mumbled confused.

- It was the voice of our god. He gave you a mission to fulfil. That's what Rex saved you for. He will keep you safe until you do what the Lion of Night needs you to do.

- And maybe... what if... what if... if I don't want to follow your dogma and this mission of the Lion of the Night? Will you take revenge on me? - It was like my strength was draining away. It was hard to even stand. But I held on. - What will happen to me then?

The grandfather smiled and pulled back his hood:

- The temple will not avenge you. I don't know about the gods. But if you find the strength to stand up to the Great One, the one who defeated the Darkness, the greatest and strongest god, then try. But I doubt you'll be able to do anything that goes against his will," he laughed softly, and walked away.

I stared at the statue for a while longer, and then gestured to my boys to leave. My cousin Rex followed us, like a dog following its master. A strange name and a strange comparison, but it made me smile, I remembered the old TV series "Commissioner Rex".

As soon as I stepped outside the temple, my strength left me and I collapsed.

To be continued...