Game of Thrones: Family Comes First
My name is Asbel, Asbel Baratheon. I am the second born son of Robert Baratheon, the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. My mother being his Queen, Cersei Lannister. And at the time, an elder brother by the name of Joffrey.
Only unlike my brother, he was gifted with our mothers look. Her blonde hair, and bright green eyes. She refers to him as her Golden Lion. She spoiled him and he grew to be arrogant while I on the other hand held our fathers looks. Black hair and strangely enough my eyes were a mix of both his bluish and her greenish color.
My life isn't like one would think. I was a prince, it meant that I am to act a certain way, and uphold the title in which I was born into. But when I was younger, I remember the warm look my mother would give me, the warmth of her embrace as she held me in her arms whenever I was feeling ill or cried. But she has long since lost any reason for me to call her such a thing.
My father being the man he was saw that I was more…active than of my elder brother who held our mothers love, while I held our fathers.
Which is where our division was made. He loathed me, I trained under the watchful eye of the masters. Learning the way of the sword, and much more. While he was barely able to wield a sword, in truth it was pitiful how he fought.
On his 10th year, there was a tourney held in his honor. The day seemed to be going all to his liking but later on when we were alone. He boasted on how he was the better swordsmen in which I laughed at his blatant decree in which he challenged me for insulting his honor.
Our father saw it fit to prove the better son by pitting us against each other in combat. The first to draw blood would be declared the winner. His word was law, and before I knew it. I stood before my own brother in front of our family sword in hand as my elder brother stood infront of me, the smirk on his face as he rushed towards me without a moment's hesitation.
I raised my sword blocking his with ease as our steel clashed against each other, I leaned forward sliding my sword down his as he stumbled past me losing his balance and fell against the ground, while letting a loud shriek of pain as he stood up holding his chin which was bruised.
He winched at the stinging pain he felt before he grabbed his sword and stood back up glaring holes into my skull as he cried out and charged me once more. But I only blocked him once more and stepped to the side making him fly past me to the ground again.
He cursed as he jumped onto his feet but he tripped slightly falling backwards onto his arse as I took my chance to finish this foolish fight. I remember the scared look in his eyes as I poised to strike him but as I was about to. I saw her looking right at me.
And in my moment of hesitation. Joffrey saw it and blindly swung his sword upwards as his steel met my flesh over my the right side of my face causing me to stumble backwards, knowing I had lost the match. That was a new kind of pain that I was introduced to as I opened my other eye to see him as he stood triumphantly over me as I sat there before him clenching my face as blood slipped through my fingers and down to the floor.
He said that the scar it would leave was proof that he was superior to me as swordsmen and it would be a constant reminder of that. But to me, it held a different meaning. Though I accepted my place, my father looked upon me with disappointed eyes as I was taken to receive care for my newly opened wound as I blacked out from the pain.
From that day forth my brother believed he was unbeatable. His arrogance grew tenfold as he picked on our younger siblings. My younger sister, Myrcella and our youngest brother Tommen. He was a sadistic bastard that toyed with them. I took it upon myself to protect them from him though he pushed me around reminding me that he could beat me if he wanted too. He just didn't want to sully the family name anymore.
I grew to despise him for such false bravado. But I promised I wouldn't say a word. Though my hate for him only grew with each passing day.
And over time, that resentment and his arrogance became the barrier between us as he didn't like me and the feeling was mutual.
If only I could see how grim the future was. Because when you play the game of thrones you win, or you die. There is no middle ground.
Just started on watching Game of Thrones. And I couldn't help but be brought to write a Fanfic.
OC – Asbel Baratheon, second born son of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister. Has wavy black hair, and bluish-green eyes. Tall lean build, much like Joffrey, only his body is more developed from learning the art of the sword by his teacher. Skilled with a sword but since his loss to Joffrey, he took his training more seriously regardless of how he won. And in time, became the favored son of the King.
