And we are back with another new story. Yeah…again. This story is an OC not something I do often but something I want to do more often I guess. Originally it was going to be a Witcher crossover with Geralt as our main character called the White Wolf but as I fleshed it out more the more I wanted to go the full OC route so here we are.
I am also basing this primarily with the bookside lore and looks. I felt it was more fitting to use that as a base than just the show though elements from both have to be present.
For those that want to chat with me check out the two servers on discord linked below and if you want to support me and get access to early fics and some exclusive content look me up helghywrites on .
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On to the story.
Chapter One
Swaddled in Fire and Blood
Red Keep
91 AC
Rhaenys shuddered at the sight of the bedchamber. The fire was put out now but the room was ruined and worse yet was the smell of burnt flesh and hair.
Her father roared in fury at her mother who was held tightly by a pair of the Kingsguard. She looked smug for having done something so vile. The Princess almost couldn't recognize her loving mother at the moment. The nearly mad smirk and glimmer in her eyes as the burnt corpse of the Lady Alarra Stark was removed from the charred bedchamber.
Rhaenys had been fond of the lady. As had most of the royal court. The Stark woman had served as the handmaiden for the Queen since she was a small girl and lived the vast majority of her life completely in service to the Queen and her family.
She couldn't help the sting of guilt that bit at her as she recalled pulling away from the kind older woman over the last year. Poisoned against Alarra by her mother's hateful words. She hadn't thought her mother capable of murder though.
Even as she stared at the body of the woman her mother had killed being carried past her it felt unreal.
"Why? Why do this? She was your mentor here for years!" Prince Aemon, Rhaenys' father roared at her mother.
Jocelyn stared back, the smug look having faded from her face.
"You ask why? I warned you though. I warned you that I wouldn't allow you to place some bastard over my blood! My child is your trueborn! Still you begged for the King to legitimize him." She hissed hatefully.
"That's it? You think I would place him over Rhaenys? Over a son you may give me in the future? So you set them ablaze in their bed?" Aemon asked.
"Thank me, dear husband, afterall I have proven for all that he was yours." Jocelyn mocked with a bitter tone.
"Get her out of my sight!" Aemon snapped to the knights holding her, causing them to lead the woman away.
The Crown Prince looked incredibly tired after that argument. Rhaenys wanted to approach him but she felt rooted into place as she watched him. Slowly the man turned away from the burnt room and looked at her.
She had never seen such a broken look in her father's eyes as she did that moment. It was odd for her. Her parents until the last two years had gotten along so well and her father always appeared unassailable.
"Rhaenys…" He muttered before rubbing at the streak of soot on his forehead.
She stood silently as he seemed to search for what words to use. Internally she felt disappointment claw at her heart as he hardened his face and straightened his posture before motioning for her to follow him.
"I know your mother has spoken against the birth of your brother ever since she learned I took Alarra to bed. That I could accept. Even if you two would never be close I could accept it, but this…" He muttered as they walked.
"It was too far." Rhaenys replied.
Aemon snorted darkly. "That is understating it terribly, but yes she went too far. Now though I have to wonder, what do you think of Alarra and your brother?"
"My brother?" Rhaenys warily asked.
"He is your brother. My son." Aemon insisted harshly.
"I-I know father, it's just that Lady Alarra isn't my mother and despite serving our family for so long she never sought anything like this with anyone. I-" Rhaenys began to say.
"Was. Your mother murdered her, never forget that. She murdered her because one night I became drunk and demanded too much of a woman that had served my mother since she was a little girl. I didn't force her, but who can deny the advances of the Crown Prince. It was my mistake and Alarra and my son pay the price." Aemon muttered, causing Rhaenys to fall silent.
"Your mother lashes out at those that are innocent. I am sending her to Dragonstone for a time. I am encumbered by my role at court, this that leaves you to mind your brother here in the Keep." Aemon explained.
"After this you're still working?" She asked.
"Tragedy doesn't absolve me of my duty. But my son, my infant son, has lost his mother to my wife. I need to know now if I can rely upon my daughter." Aemon stopped beside a door in the hall, clearly their destination.
"I wasn't happy you had a bastard but I don't want to kill him, father. He's just a babe." Rhaenys said.
"He is. But I never could have imagined your mother capable of setting a woman and her child alight in their bed yet she did." He unnecessarily reminded her.
"I am not my mother." She replied softly.
"No, you are not. You are my blood. You are his blood. Come." He said as they stepped into the room to find a small collection of people within.
A collection of maids and nurses stood off to the side while two members of the Dragonkeepers muttered in valyrian toward one another and the small infant dragon wrapped around her bastard brother.
Baelon, her half brother, was covered in soot and the remnants of a burnt nightgown. He was however entirely unharmed. The dragon wrapped protectively around him was a pale white, married by soot just as her brother's pale skin was.
"Why haven't you bathed him yet?" Aemon demanded.
"Forgive us your grace but the dragon is especially protective of him. We can't get near either of them." One of the maids said as the people in the room bowed to him and Rhaenys.
"The dragon, did it hatch tonight?" Rhaenys asked.
"Yes, it seems that despite taking Baelon from his crib, Alarra conformed to some of my wishes and kept the egg near him. Your mother's actions helped to hatch it.
"My prince, the bond is abnormal." The senior of the two Dragonkeepers said calmly.
"Is it? Why?" Aemon asked though he seemed to have an idea.
"Blood has power in magic. The ways of Old Valyria used blood and fire." Rhaenys commented.
"Fire and Blood…" Aemon said as he stared down at his son and the white dragon curled around his form.
"He is our blood Rhaenys. Your mother was right on one thing. She's proven he is mine to his core. Which means he is yours to his core as well. Come, help me separate them. Your brother needs a bath."
Rhaenys didn't reply. Instead she moved forward to help separate the babe and dragon. The night had been too much for her honestly and the sooner they handled things with little Baelon the sooner she could go back to bed and try to forget everything that had happened this night.
Red Keep
93 AC
The Old King stared down the towering steps of the Iron throne at Princess Rhaenys. The young lady knelt despite looking ready to enter labor at any time. Beside her the toddler, Baelon knelt as well, repeatedly looking toward her for guidance.
"This is a surprising request, Rhaenys." Baelon, the King's son and namesake of the little boy before them said.
"Perhaps so, Uncle. It is not a request I imagine my mother would approve of, but my late father wholeheartedly wished for it to be made a reality." Rhaenys replied curtly. She did not despise her Uncle or truly any of her kin, but his ascension to heir after her father's passing had been a slight. Even though she was certain she carried a son in her belly.
"You know doing as you have asked would call into question your titles and rights as your father's only heir." Baelon continued.
"With all due respect Lord Hand, but I do believe you have already received those titles and rights by decree of his Grace the King." She hissed, causing both Baelon and Jahaerys to sigh. Her husband Corlys had already resigned his post as Master of Ships for the crown in protest to Rhaenys being passed over.
"Let us not return to a tired argument. Rhaenys, you have told me the wishes of your mother, and expressed the wishes of your late father…" Jahaerys had some difficulty in speaking of his dead son. "But what of you? What are your wishes? It is no secret you have all but raised little Baelon so far as if you were his mother rather than sister. Three years longer even than his own true mother, mother rest her soul."
"Your Grace, Grandfather…I would not be here if I did not wish this for Baelon. He is my brother, and as you said I have raised him as if he were mine own son. Grant him the name of our father and ancestors. I want more for him than to be Baelon Waters." She said with emotion thick in her throat as she reached over to take the little boy's hand in her own.
Jahaerys continued to stare down at his granddaughter and grandson. With Rhaenys dark hair, inherited from her mother she looked as though she could truly be little Baelon's mother. She clearly cared for him too despite the fact that many would see his legitimization as placing him ahead of Rhaenys in any line of succession whether for the throne or for a simple holding.
"You are certain, my child?" He asked softly.
"Completely, Your Grace." She replied, staring back up at him.
Jahaerys studied her eyes for a moment. The same soft shade of Lilac as her father. With a glance toward the child he realized that Baelon had also inherited such eyes.
"Very well. Then I hereby proclaim that Baelon Waters is no more. Baelon Targaryen, Baelon the Younger, is hereby legitimized as the son of my son Aemon Targaryen. All the privileges and rights that would come with such a station are now his." Jahaerys said happily.
"Thank you, your Grace." Rhaenys said as she bowed her head a softer voice from Baelon repeated the words and movement.
"Wonderful. Now, Baelon, help Rhaenys and…Baelon up. I would like us all to eat together.." The Old King said as he stood from his throne.
"Of course, father." Baelon said as he approached and helped the young woman and the much younger boy to their feet.
In doing so however Rhaenys cried out in surprise as she felt her water break.
"Mo-Rhaenys are you alright?" The younger of the two Baelons asked.
"Oh, yes…I-" Rhaenys stammered slightly.
"She'll be fine lad, but we need to call a master and the midwives." The Hand said as he sent several guards and servants scurrying to collect those that were needed.
"Baelon, why don't you go take word to Lord Corlys of what is happening with your sister? Ser Ryam escort the new Prince to his goodbrother." Jahaerys commanded.
"Of course your grace. Come along young man." Ryam Redwyne said.
Baelon sent a worried glance toward his sister who smiled and motioned for him to follow after the knight. Hesitantly he did as he was told and joined the Knight in finding and alerting Lord Corlys to his wife's condition.
Harrenhal
101 AC
Baelon stood nervously beside his sister and cousin. Behind them was the largest gathering of nobility in recorded history for the event that was already being called the Great Council.
With his late Uncle's passing the question of the succession of the Iron Throne had plagued Baelon's grandfather terribly. While some believed that it was a clear and simple as his cousin Viserys inheriting the throne, Baelon, Rhaenys, and at least some of the lords of Westeros disagreed.
No less than fifteen claims for the Throne had been heard. Everything from distant cousins to the bastards of Jahaerys' disinherited daughter Saera and her various lovers across the Free Cities. The King had dismissed every one of them. Every one of them but the three that stood before him now.
"I have discussed with my small council and after much internal debate I have decided to initiate a vote among all the present Lords Paramount and Lords Vassal of the realm for which among these three claimants shall ascend my throne upon my death. A final word may be given by each to plead your cause to the realm. Prince Viserys you shall be first." Jahaerys decreed.
Rhaenys and Baelon both frowned slightly. Viserys was the King's favorite choice. However over the last few years the Old King had grown incredibly weary. The deaths of all his children and his wife had sapped him of much of his strength. It had also led the Wise King to doubt some of his choices, such as passing over Rhaenys for Baelon the Elder in the past.
Viserys was a charismatic man. A popular choice for most as well. He already had a daughter and his wife was pregnant with a possible son and heir.
The brief argument he gave about maintaining the already established line of succession was an easy one to give. At least it looked to be easy from where Baelon stood. After all, the man only had to remind the lord's that Viserys was his late father's heir in all things.
Once he returned to his place to stand it was Rhaenys turn. She was less eloquent than Viserys, but also made a very clear point. Her father had been Aemon, first in line and even should she not remain Queen for long she had a son who should have a stronger claim than Viserys at least on her mind.
The greatest supporters to her claim were of course her husband's house and her mother's. The like of House Velaryon and Baratheon was no small amount of backing either.
"My lord's, now is a chance to make right a mistake made nearly a decade ago. Restoring my rights, my son and daughter's rights to the Iron Throne is simply justice." She said before returning to her place.
Lastly came Baelon. An eleven year old. The boy who, despite being legitimized, was still more often called Baelon the Bastard than any other term. It was daunting for one so young to step out into the space before so many lords all watching and judging every action he made.
He looked up toward his grandfather who stared down at him intently. From there his eyes turned to his sister. The only woman he could honestly recall as a mother. Even though he was standing against her she looked supportive. Willing to let him ascend if he could convince the lords.
"My lords, I am humbled that my claim is considered so readily. I don't pretend to not know the names given to me. Baelon the Black, Baelon the Bastard. I was, and I am forever my father's bastard. Legitimized as I may be. Targaryen rather than Waters, perhaps but always my father's bastard son. That is a part of who I am. It is not all I am though." He began getting intrigued looks from those gathered before them.
"I am the Blood of the Dragon. I am kin to the Direwolf. I am the rider of the dragon Marzaanys. I am more than that as well. More than all that though I am simply Baelon. Younger brother of Rhaenys. Child of Aemon. I know some of you would support me in my claim to the Throne and I thank you. However, here and now I declare my support and the support of any who would back my claim to that of Princess Rhaenys." He said while bowing his head to Rhaenys.
Many were shocked. The rest of the Royal family particularly, including Rhaenys and Jahaerys. Jahaerys eyes followed the young boy closely as he returned to Rhaenys' side. The Princess hugged her little brother tightly to her with a watery smile as he declared his support for her.
"It is time now for the lords to make their vote." Jahaerys declared as the lord's began filling toward the masters gathered to count the votes.
It took days for all the votes to be cast and tallied. Once they were, the realm gathered once more. Jahaerys sat upon the ruined throne on the raised dais in what would have been the great keep of Harrenhal had it not been destroyed by dragon's fire a century earlier.
On either side of the throne stood the two vying branches of the family. Viserys and his heavily pregnant wife on one side. Rhaenys and her husband Corlys and brother Baelon on the other.
Rhaenys clutched tightly at her husband's hand on her shoulder while gently gripping the shoulder of the boy beside her as well. The Princess and would-be queen was filled to bursting with trepidation but more than that with a sense of love for the eleven year old boy beside her.
Her grips tightened slightly as the maesters came forward with the great ornate chest bearing the result of the vote. Such an unnecessary container for a simple piece of paper. Unlike most in the massive space of the ruined halls of Harrenhal her eyes rested upon her only true opponent in the succession now that Baelon had ceded his supporters to her.
Her cousin Viserys stood anxiously with his pregnant wife. So far they had only a daughter, any other attempts to bear children had failed. Rhaenys was certain the realm would recognize herself, and thereby her daughter's claim over her cousin. If not then she also had a son. The succession was clear for her and her family.
That clarity seemed not to be shared with the rest of the realm.
"It is declared by all Lord's Paramount, and Lord's Vassal of the Seven Kingdoms that Prince Viserys Targaryen be made Prince of Dragonstone, and heir to the Iron Throne." The Old King called out, his words echoed by a crier to ensure the multitude heard the decree.
As the audience applauded and gave their support Rhaenys felt Baelon lean from her grip. It rooted her in the moment as her mind drifted toward a fogginess caused by disappointment. She and Corlys both eyed the boy they had raised as he leaned toward a nearby younger Maester. A young lad that Baelon had befriended early on in their time here at Harrenhal named Hasting. They'd had plenty of time to find their friendship with one another as no less than fifteen claims for the succession were made and over a thousand lords from across the land had slowly trickled into the massive ruin of Harrenhal.
"What was the count in the end?" He asked, getting Rhaenys and Corlys to also listen intently for the answer.
Hasting shifted uncomfortably for a moment. However he did answer the Prince. "You more than tripled Princess Rhaenys' support when you called for your supporters to back her, but Prince Viserys had more than ten and seven times your votes combined." He replied.
"So the realm agrees with thievery when it's a prince but not when it's the peasants." Baelon growled only for Rhaenys to reach out and pull him back beside her. Her nails dug in just enough to sting and remind him to watch his tongue.
Legitimized he might be, but Baelon would always have less leeway than the majority of those bearing the name Targaryen. It was simply the consequence of his birth as originally Baelon Waters
"Don't be too harsh on him. He only speaks the truth. A commoner would have at least lost some fingers." Corlys bit out causing Rhaenys to sigh. She loved both of them dearly and appreciated the anger on her behalf, but such comments would only make things harder on them all in the years to come.
Driftmark
104 AC
Marzaanys had become a common sight racing over the island of Driftmark and its surrounding seas. Of course the seat of House Velaryon was no stranger to the likes of dragons. Whether it was Princess Rhaenys' and her Red-Queen Meleys, Baelon and his Marzaanys, or Laenor and his Sea Smoke.
The only resident on the isle with Targaryen blood and no dragon was terribly jealous of the others. At least normally she was. Lately she had twisted Baelon into taking her flying with him nearly every day.
Laena was a perfect blend of her father Corlys and mother Rhaenys. At least when it came to her adventurous and curious nature. Her mother's love of dragons and father's thirst for adventure, sadly stifled by her own lack of a bonded dragon.
However, Baelon struggled to ever say no to her. Her uncle was only two years older than her and they had grown up together. Very closely. Baelon was no coward and just as curious as any child, but Laena had always found a way to drag him into something that would get his sister to cuff his head after they were caught.
"Alright I think it's time to head back before Rhaenys comes after us." Baelon said.
"Oh can't we go around once more Bae?" Laena asked, turning to shoot a pouting look at the boy.
"Laena, your mother will kill me." Baelon replied, rolling his eyes as the pout intensified.
"Just once more?" She begged him, causing the older of the two to sigh before nodding and pulling at the chains of Marzaanys' harness.
Baelon tightened his grip around Laena's waste slightly as Marzaanys tilted to the side to bank back around the island. The younger girl hopped in joy as the wind rushed past them and blew her silver hair back into Baelon's face, nearly blocking his vision and filling his nose with the light flowery scent of her hair.
The sound of her laughter filled his ears and the boy decided that the stern lecture from Rhaenys that he was no doubt in line for was well worth it.
She still pouted adorably once their final lap around Driftmark ended and they made their way back to the rocky outcropping Baelon had been using for landings with Marzaanys ever since he became her rider.
Unfortunately, Rhaenys and Corlys both were waiting for them once they landed. Laena at least sent him an apologetic look as Corlys led her away to join her brother for dinner. Both Rhaenys and Baelon would join them when they were ready.
"Baelon…" Rhaenys said, holding her hands in front of her and fumbling slightly with her fingers.
"Sister?" He asked tentatively. He realized now whatever she wished to speak of wasn't a reprimand for nearly missing dinner or taking Laena dragon riding when she should have been at her lessons.
"You know that we all have a duty to our family, one that sometimes can take precedence over our own desires." She said, looking pained.
"Have I done something wrong?" He asked in confusion.
"No, you haven't done anything wrong Baelon. I am trying to tell you that you need to spend less time with Laena. It's time you begin courting a lady and finding your place at court itself. A wife would do you good and give you greater status. You're fourteen now and it's time to seek a betrothal." Rhaenys said.
Baelon's lilac eyes darkened considerably. He hadn't spoken to anyone about such matters before. Never mentioned his secret wish that had recently become more and more of a weight on his mind.
He hadn't needed to for Rhaenys to know though.
"I see." He said softly.
"I'm sorry Baelon, but Laena will marry someone else for an alliance or to strengthen house Velaryon." Rhaenys said as she took a step toward him.
"I imagine Corlys is saying something similar to Laena at the moment?" Baelon asked, getting a stiff nod as his reply.
"I see." He said once again.
"There is a tourney coming up. His Majesty has declared a tourney be held at King's Landing to honor his son and heir's birth. You will enter and hopefully capture the eye of some young lady." Rhaenys said, now standing close enough to reach out and embrace her brother.
"As you wish, sister." He said quietly once again.
"Let us go eat, then you can bathe." Rhaenys tried to reach for his hand.
"I am not all that hungry, honestly. I need to practice my riding at night with Marzaanys anyway. I'll see you in the morning sister, pass on my apologies for missing the meal to the others." Baelon said before turning and heading back toward his waiting dragon.
The cloud white beast was agitated, feeling its bonded roder's own emotional turmoil. It waited patiently for him to scale its side and seat himself in the saddle though.
Rhaenys watched on sadly before turning back toward the Velaryon keep. Baelon needed some time alone but she knew he understood why he could not be with Laena.
She hoped her daughter was as dutiful and understanding as he was.
King's Landing
105 AC
Baelon stood beside his friend Hasting as they watched the Dragonkeepers lead Marzaanys into the Dragonpit. For those who were unfamiliar with who each young man was they might mistake them for being the other. Not due to any similarities. Instead, Hasting, a common born son of a minor lord's steward, sported short cropped silvery hair of one with Valyrian blood, his eyes were a dark brown and his stature was lean and covered in wealthy clothing. He'd done very well for himself since leaving the life of a maester behind and becoming a merchant working closely with House Velaryon. He had a total of ten ships and full crews to his name now and chartered and entire pier on Driftmark and in King's Landing both.
So he looked rather regal at all times, and rather valyrian for someone who was decidedly not. Baelon on the other hand was tall, taking after his father, now almost fifteen he already stood over six foot in height and was quite broad shouldered. His hair was a dark brown, nearly black like his late mother's had been which only seemed to cause his pale lilac eyes to shine all the brighter in his angular face. Unlike his friend, Baelon was not one to typically wear extravagant clothes, though he rarely wanted for such things. Instead he wore a form fitting outfit coupled with a fine cloak collared with white fur. He looked very Stark-like dressed that way, at least according to Rhaenys and Corlys who didn't approve much of his stylistic choices.
"See anything interesting while on your flight, Baelon?" Hasting asked as he watched another dragon begin circling the Dragonpit and descending for a landing.
"Princess Rhaenyra is a talented dragon rider. Her Syrax isn't quite the size or speed of Marzaanys but she has a good handle on controlling it." Baelon replied before they both began stepping away to make room for the approaching Dragonkeepers.
"I have heard she's ridden since she was incredibly small." Hasting replied.
"She has. Then again most riders do. I heard that the king's own mother took both him and his younger brother flying before they could even walk. It's good for riders to get used to the sky I think."
"I prefer my feet firmly rooted on the ground or on a ship."
"Maybe, but you look like you could be a dragonseed. You should at least join me for a ride sometime my friend." Baelon said with a grin.
"I appreciate the offer, but as I said. I think that I prefer myself where I am at."
"Suit yourself, you are closer to the ground, maybe it just suits you better?" Baelon joked, getting Hasting to click his teeth together in annoyance. Ever since the younger had eclipsed him in height it had become a running joke. After all, Hasting was a few years older than Baelon was but Baelon was already a head taller than the other boy.
"Perhaps we can discuss your plans for the tourney?" Hasting asked with an excited gleam in his eye. Happy both to change the subject from flying and to hopefully speak of the tournament to happen soon. More specifically Baelon's participation in it.
"What about it?" He asked.
"Well…it is your first one. Aren't you excited?"
"Less than I expected I would be, I suppose. Still it will be a hell of an occasion, won't it? Perfect for a debut on the tourney scene." Baelon admitted.
"A perfect chance to do as your sister wishes and find a bride." Hasting stated.
"I am not in the mood for that discussion, Hasting. Why is it that you so readily agree with her and choose to mother me when she isn't around?" Baelon asked as both of them mounted their horses and began a steady trot back down into the city proper.
"It's primarily because we both know what is best for you, Baelon. We just want you to be happy my friend." Hasting replied.
"If that were true then you would be leading me off to an alehouse or something and we would be enjoying some drinks. Instead you are planning to badger me about finding a suitable bride. What does Rhaenys have over you?" Baelon playfully accused.
"Truth be told she terrifies me. Ever since you convinced me to come and join you all at Driftmark my hair has paled considerably under her scrutiny." Hasting said with a grin.
"Aha, so you admit to being my sister's agent. Such treachery is unforgivable my friend."
Hasting snorted in humor. "Perhaps some information might be able to bridge the gap until I can get you to that alehouse you mentioned."
"Go on then." Baelon urged.
"The King's brother has returned. His little army of city watchmen have been turned into a not so little army of actual soldiers too." Hasting said.
"So?" Baelon asked.
"So, I have heard that many of the people in the city are beginning to grow anxious. The Prince is unstable." Hasting continued.
"Careful, Hasting. Should your words reach his or the King's ears they could have your tongue…or worse." Baelon reminded.
"Of course, still I cannot help but think the Prince is a poor match for master of the City Watch. It isn't meant to be an army. Simply to enforce the King's laws."
"I think perhaps one would need an army to do such a thing, my friend." Baelon replied.
"You may be right, either way we must keep whatever debauchery we find ourselves in tonight under control. Imagine Daemon dragging us back to your sister all trussed up for something."
Baelon grimaced at the imagined painful lecture he would receive from Rhaenys for embarrassing her like that.
"Perhaps we should skip the alehouse and enjoy a drink in the comfort of your house?" He asked the older boy.
"I have better stock at home anyway, I promise you." Hasting said with a smile before urging his horse into a faster canter onward to the Street of Silk.
King's Landing
105 AC
"Corlys says that much of the King's council is in an uproar with Prince Daemon's measures. I wonder if he even means to participate." Baelon commented as he adjusted his armor with help from a pair of younger boys that his goodbrother had assigned to him.
"From some of my friends and neighbors' words, he intends to not only participate but make a grand showing in the lists." Hasting replied as he enjoyed a glass of wine while watching his friend prepare for jousts.
"Then maybe I can cross lances with him." Baelon said as he began shooing the younger boys away. He was as ready as he was going to get.
"Maybe." Hasting replied simply.
Baelon eyed his friend closely before stepping over and pouring his own glass of wine and quickly swallowing some.
"You think not?" Baelon asked.
"I think Daemon would be the last you would face in the tourney and some of those between you and he are far better riders and tourney knights than you are. At least currently. You're one of the youngest to be entering the lists today after all, my friend."
"All the more reason I should endeavor to show myself well. After all you and my sister would have a much easier time finding me a suitable ball and chain should I do well today, correct?" Baelon asked, drawing out a long suffering sigh from Hasting.
"Baelon, we've been arguing like this for a couple months now. You will have to marry eventually and both Princess Rhaenys and myself have an idea of different types of brides you would fit well with. She remains insistent on you marrying some wench from a minor house while I know you could have your pick of the ladies of any powerful man in Essos. Bravos, Volantis, even in this Triarchy your goodbrother is so distraught over. Perhaps a bride from Lys or Myr could help to ease the problems between the Iron Throne and them." Hasting explained as he stood.
"The tension is between them and the Driftwood throne as far as I can see it…either way I would rather focus upon the tourney. Like you said, plenty of better riders and tourney knights between me and Daemon." Baelon said.
"Why so intent on facing him?" Hasting asked.
"He'll be one of the last two standing, I plan to be the other." Baelon said resolutely.
The small party of attendants trailed behind Baelon as he made his way toward the lists while Hasting joined with the crowd. The King himself was hollering a greeting out to the waiting knights and audience declaring for them all to hear that the Queen had entered labor. Baelon, didn't much care, though it did bite at him that it had taken this long for the King to produce a male heir, if the King's prediction was to be believed, while Baelon's own nephew Laenor should already be inheriting the position himself. Either that or Laena had his sister's wishes for the succession have been followed.
The rapid staccato of the drums signaled some of the first riders to begin their bout. The first two were nothing truly impressive. A pair of young knights a little older than Baelon himself. Both from some minor unlanded houses in the Reach as well if he wasn't mistaken. The matches proceeded in quick succession, while Baelon's attention remained on the royal stand where his sister, her husband, and Laena and Laenor sat with the King, Princess, and the rest of the entourage of the Royal family.
Laena smiled and waved at him when she caught his eye and he lifted his lance slightly as a greeting back. The both of them turned their attention to Lord Baratheon as he rode up to the Royal Box and called out to Baelon's sister.
"Princess Rhaenys Targaryen! I would humbly ask for the favor of 'The Queen Who Never Was'!" Boremund called out loudly.
Baelon muffled the laugh he felt bubbling up at that. As unhappy as he was with Rhaenys at the moment, seeing the small smile and brief glance toward the King that she had, Baelon knew she enjoyed the small insult toward their cousin. He wasn't exactly the most popular with the likes of the Baratheons, but Boremund was steadfast in support of Rhaenys despite her gender.
"I wish you good fortune cousin!" Rhaenys said as she slipped a small wreath in the colors of House Velaryon onto the lance Lord Baratheon held up for her.
"I would happily accept it, if I thought that I needed it." Boremund said confidently.
Rhaenys smiled at the man but rolled her eyes slightly. The boasting of the lord was lighthearted and kept her spirits higher despite not finding much of a taste for jousting and tourney fighting.
Unfortunately for Lord Baratheon the favor of Princess Rhaenys did not in fact change much. He was felled after a single tilt by an unlanded knight that Baelon had never seen before. One not much older than himself.
With Boremund Baratheon eliminated from the tourney it was soon to be Baelon's turn to ride. He, like some of the other younger riders, was not yet a true knight. Perhaps if he did well enough in this tourney that would change, though he imagined he was still considered a bit young for it by most.
Still with confidence befitting the knight that he in fact was not, he pushed his horse forward as his opponent took his position.
"Prince Baelon Targaryen and his opponent Ser Darren Gaunt!" The crier announced as they took places across from one another. Baelon didn't know much of Ser Darren truly. Some younger son of the Lord Gaunt. He was much older than Baelon was and was dressed in the purple and black of his house with three black lances emblazoned on his shield.
THe brief moment he took in his opponent's appearance felt longer for him. For the audience it seemed as if the moment the two young men were across from one another they were in motion thundering down the list. Baelon positioned his lance perfectly and flowed with the movements of his horse.
Despite the iconography of his house, Ser Gaunt seemed to poorly handle his lance and it bounced out of rhythm with the charge of his horse. When the two riders reached one another, Ser Darren's lance glanced up off of the corner of Baelon's shield before rapping painfully against his helmet and ringing his ears.
However his lance did not break, while Baelon's slammed dead center onto the older man's breastplate and threw him off of his horse painfully. Thankfully he was in no position to contest the result either and was dragged off of the field along with the cries and cheers of the crowds.
Baelon was not done with his moment just yet though. Like Boremund before him he rode up to the royal box and lifted his lance.
"Laena, might I have your favor?" He asked simply while staring at her. He felt the disapproving stares of Rhaenys and Corlys, though both Laena and Laenor seemed happy he had come over. Laena, like him, didn't even look toward Rhaenys and Corlys as she quickly tossed her favor out and forced Baelon to catch it on the tip of his lance to the applause of the crowd.
With that he turned and rode off to the waiting area for his next turn.
Prince Daemon made a far more elaborate entrance than he had. Fitting as after all he was currently still heir to the Iron Throne and the leader of the City Watch which had earned him quite the mixed bag of terror and adoration from the common folk.
"Prince Daemon of House Targaryen, Prince of the City, Will now choose his first opponent!" The drier bellowed out as Daemon burst upon the scene on a magnificent black stallion.
Baelon watched as his cousin made a show of his arrival before riding past his possible contenders. On his second pass by them however he stopped and leveled his lance toward his chosen opponent. One that nearly had Baelon rolling his eyes. Of course that would be his pick.
"For his first challenge, Prince Daemon has selected Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown, eldest son of the King's own Hand!" The crier shouted, getting an increase in applause as the knight moved forward and bowed his head in respect to the king.
While the common folk and most lesser lords cheered for the coming match, Baelon and those others in the know shifted slightly. It was clear that Daemon hoped to slap the Lord Hand with a defeat of his son. It was no secret that the two men did not get along. Especially after the very recent, very public, and very bloody display of rounding up King's Landing criminal element.
Baelon watched on, with everyone else as Daemon raced forward toward Ser Gwayne and the pair of them slammed into one another harshly. Both shattered their lances and were shifted back in their saddles but both also managed to remain on horseback. They wasted no time in retrieving new lances and launching toward one another yet again.
Except that this time, Daemon did something unexpected. He did have such a talent for surprises. Unfortunately they were rarely pleasant and neither was this one. Shifting forward in his saddle and swinging his lance down, he didn't attack Ser Gwayne so much as he threw his lance into the legs of the Hightower's horse.
Predictably the poor beast was sent sprawling and Ser Gwayne was catapulted from his saddle face first into the mulch and mud of the field, bloodying himself badly. Many of the audience were shocked while others were simply happy to see some blood.
Baelon himself was uncomfortable. All things considered, Daemon was his kin whereas Ser Gwayne most certainly was not. However such a blatant underhanded act was rarely taken without some punishment. Had their situations been reversed and Daemon been tripped like that, Ser Gwayne would have been lucky to only have to pay for a new horse. He might have been publicly humiliated or even punished more seriously.
For Daemon though, he could act with nigh impunity. Ser Gwayne, though undoubtedly harmed, was not seriously wounded. His horse would likely be paid for by the Crown and technically both sides could move on. Being the younger brother of the reigning king had a great many advantages. His protection from retaliation was just one of them.
The Prince didn't stop with his digging at the Lord Hand there though. While Baelon could not hear it, he could see Daemon retrieve Lady Alicent's favor. He would have plenty to prattle on with Hasting about after all of this was concluded.
Baelon turned his attention away from his cousin's playing and back to his own upcoming bouts. His next tilt was against another lesser lord, one from the Vale. After him came two from the Reach and one of the Westerlands. All but one of the lads from the Reach he bested in a single tilt. The Westerlands knight had demanded a continuation in a test of arms.
It had gone poorly for the Westerman. Baelon had been surprised by his luck with the lance so far, but his true strength in martial skills came with the sword and shield. Ser Jerold of some tiny unimportant Westerland's farm town learned that the hard way.
Others were showing their capabilities as the event continued on as well. Both the upstart Ser Criston Cole as well as Prince Daemon had done incredibly well. Daemon hadn't even needed to utilize any more underhanded tactics like with Ser Gwayne.
Now however, Dragon faced Dragon.
"Prince Daemon of House Targaryen and Prince Baelon of House Targaryen!" The Crier shouted out and the audience roared louder than it had all day. Prince versus Prince, such a rare affair indeed.
Daemon seemed intent on not giving Baelon any time to prepare himself and powered down the lists toward him. Baelon was only a half moment slower with his own charge and the two men rapidly built up speed and momentum as they charged each other.
Experience won out though. Daemon might not have been truly gifted with the lance but he had a decade more experience than Baelon to draw from. Their lances both struck true, but Daemon better rolled with the blow. He was shifted backward in his saddle and nearly toppled, but Baelon was forced even further back on his own stallion. As the horse continued it's forward charge it's legs caused him to be jarred once again and lose his grip on the reins and tossing him gracelessly off into the mud.
He briefly thought to contest it. However he knew that like him Daemon was better on his own two feet with a blade than with a lance. He wasn't quite ready to best his cousin in a fight it seemed.
Hasting was with the attendants as they helped him out of his armor and winced at the pale redmark on Baelon's back where he had slammed into the ground a moment ago.
"That's going to leave a nasty bruise, my friend." Hasting said as he sent a couple of servants off to find some cool damp cloth to try and lessen the ache Baelon would soon be feeling.
"I'm well aware, Hasting." Baelon groaned as he continued to undress.
"Well if you're aware…" Hasting rolled his eyes but set to work trying to ease his friend's pain, much to the silent thanks of said friend.
"All that is left is that man from the Stormlands…Ser Crispin or something?" Baelon asked.
"Criston. The son of the Steward of Lord Dondarrion."
"I see, I hope he knocks Daemon on his ass. He's earned victory as far as I have seen and after Daemon pulled that stunt with Ser Gwayne…" Baelon trailed off.
"Yes I'm sure you wish for Daemon to be planted in the mud because of his unfair play with Ser Gwayne and nothing else." Hasting mocked.
"Why do I keep your company, Hasting. You mouthy prick." Baelon huffed.
"Because you happen to like that I'm mouthy. I imagine it's the same reason you like Laena and Laenor. They speak their minds to you and care little for your parentage or whatever else most others care for." Hasting explained.
"I wasn't seriously asking my friend." Baelon sighed.
"Well I have a serious question for you." Hasting suddenly said, causing Baelon to eye him.
"Yes?"
"What is it you plan after the tourney?" He asked him.
"I…don't know." Baelon admitted.
Hasting smiled.
"Then I think I have just the thing to help you and me both and perhaps give you and your sister a little time to sulk apart from one another so that you can make up again. Don't think I don't know you and Lady Laena both did that little play with the favor to stab at Princess Rhaenys." Hasting explained.
"Not entirely." The younger boy mewled.
"Come, let me show you what I was thinking." Hasting said as he practically forced a shirt onto Baelon.
"What of the rest of the tournament?" Baelon complained.
"The ending is a forgone conclusion. Everything I hear about Daemon is that he just lacks that finishing power." Hasting crudely joked getting a grimace on Baelon's face at his words.
"Why are you hearing tales about my cousin's…troubles to finish?" Baelon asked.
"It gets tossed in with everything else I listen to my friend. Now hurry, I'm excited to see what you think now that the tournament no longer has your focus."
Baelon snorted slightly at the childlike excitement in his friend. Normally Hasting was a very mature, if a bit snobbish young man. Right now he reminded Baelon more of the Hasting he had first met as a young boy. It lifted his own spirits along the way.
"Lead the way Hasting." Baelon laughed as he followed the man away from the arena, the cheers for someone's victory, hopefully Ser Criston's echoing over the sounds of the street.
That is a wrap, I hope you enjoyed this new story. It is one that has existed in different forms for a while but I am really looking forward to get it moving.
Next Chapter will see some fun developments.
Till Next Time