What if the gods had taken a different life than that of one of Aemma's stillbirths?
What if in 94 A.C. it was not Laenor Velaryon who was born but Aemma Arryn and Viserys Targaryen's first child, Bealon Targaryen?
What if they had given this child...
In the week of the tournament, Baelon was stressed, not only by the week-long tournament but also by his uncle Daemon, who was getting incriesingly bold and annying towards Viserys.
Baelon, being the one who housed Daemon for the last year, had to endure all of his father's complaints about his own brother, and Daemon, being Daemon, couldn't keep his mouth shut himself.
On the other side was his uncle, with his constant talk about his hatred for the Hand of the King and his occasionally persuasive comment about the Street of Silk, which wasn't much better than his father's whinings.
But the worst thing for Baelon about that week was his mother's constantly worsening condition. Every day he would go to his mother's chambers and talk with her about the need to stop this constant trying for children, but she always just told him the same thing: that this was her battle, just as the wars of men would be his.
Between all those problems, he sought solace in his training for the Melee of the Tournament.
Normally, a prince or any member of the royal family was discouraged from taking part in the melee by maesters and other lords, but this time it wasn't enough to stop Baelon; this time he wanted to take part no matter what.
And so he did.
The first few rounds weren't that interesting, with him being trained not only by the best Knights of the Kingsguard and the master at arms of the Red Keep but also receiving training from Tyraxes, the goddess who, among other things, also has skill, warfare, and battle strategy as her aspects.
In those rounds, there were enough people taking part that you could almost make a small army of 800 knights out of it if they were placed together.
But most of those were mere hedge knights or landed knights with just a village or two to their name. They were of course taking part so that they would have a chance of winning the prize pool set by the king, which was by far less than the generally more liked joust, but with 40000 gold dragons, it was still substantial.
As more and more knights fell, the rate of death rose. The pinnacle was 10 dead knights in a single round. That was more than 1 death for every 4 living contenders, and even then, of those living, not all could or wanted to continue into the next round.
In the afternoon, only 75 contenders were left, and as the King and his family joined the rest of his court in the stands, the finals were called to a close.
And so the arena filled with competitors, and one of them stood out in his black and red-themed armor that was lit with dragonscales and his elegant dragon-themed Valyrian steel sword by his side.
As Baelon entered the arena for what he knew was the last time today, he looked to the stands and saw not just Laena there like in the previous rounds, having arrived a few days ago with her family, but also his own family and his sister, who looked at him sheepishly, as if she wanted to say that she was sorry for not being there the other round but knowing that he would understand her duties.
With a small smile, he went forward and was met with his first enemy, who was some Vale hedge knight, as far as he could see from his blue-themed armor without a sigil.
Baelon dispatched him relatively easily with the agility of an acrobat, the precision of a seasoned hunter, and the grace of the prince he was. By doing that, he focused on not hurting the knight permanently so that his mother wouldn't be cross with him; after all, she was still an arryn.
After a few more of those easy-to-beat knights, he was faced with the last other competitor and a much more challenging target, the new lord of Goldengrove, Thaddeus Rowan. House Rowan, being one of the oldest houses in the Reach, stemming from the daughter of Garth the Greenhan, the first gardener king, was one of the most powerful Reach houses and considered to be the most powerful northern Reach house.
With a smirk on his face, the young Lord launched himself at the heir to the throne and let loose a series of powerful but predictable strikes. Not being one to fall for such brutality, Baelon simply dodged and waited for Thaddeus to tire himself out.
But instead of doing that, he stopped and smiled at the prince while adjusting his position to charge once more. Then he unleashed another onslaught on the young prince, who seemed to wait for something while he dodged.
At one point, he seemingly decided that he had enough and simply backhanded Rowan with his offhand while stepping into him and causing him to fall.
Before Rowan knew what was happening, he had a sword to his throat and couldn't move without splitting himself open.
The crowd gasped at such an abrupt end and waited for the Reach Lord to respond to the disrespect that was delivered to him by the young Heir.
"You could have at least let me have a bit more fun before doing that," Rowan grumbled.
Baelon stretched his hand out, answered with a simple shrug, and said
If you are swinging that damed thing so blazingly around, you might hurt someone. I couldn't resist it.
Rowan first looked at the path he carved through the other competitors, then back to his prince, and began to laugh.
"Ah, you might be right there; we should do that more than it's more fun going against those shitsacks or Flshe and Bone."
Baelon smirked and said, "If you stay here for a bit, I'm sure it can be arranged."
Before they could continue, they were interrupted by the announcement that Price Baelon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone, had won the melee of the tournament for his brother's supposed birth.
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(So I don't know if I like the one at the start or this one.)
