Pre-Chapter A/N: Here we go with another chapter, coming in right on time. Next three chapters on my patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)— same username as here and link in bio.
XXXXXX- JAK OF FLEA BOTTOM
He did not know how to feel as he watched what was now his Lord exchange lances with the man who had trained him and brought him here. Ser Fell was not a good man. Not a good Knight either, but he had made Jak what he was. He was the reason he was here. He was Jak's past. And Lord Velaryon was his future. That offer had been generous. So generous that his warning bells were ringing, but even before the offer was known, Jak had known he had no choice in it.
One did not just refuse a Great Lord. Especially not one who was both the richest in the realm, and rode a Dragon as big as a mountain. Not like Jak had ever seen a mountain before in his life, but the dragon was the closest thing he could imagine to that kind of scale. It could swallow Jak in one go and not even taste him as he sailed down its throat. That was how big the thing was.
But despite that, it was a good offer. To serve in Lord Velaryon's Household. Free arms and armour while he served, and a wage of seventy gold dragons a year. The sum still blew his mind. It was life-changing money. With that kind of gold, he could move his Mother to the Stepstones on a ship. She would finally be out of His reach. He'd even be able to buy a house. Or maybe rent one for her. It was so much gold that he still did not believe it. But what Lord Velaryon had called his 'signing bonus' sat in a purse at the bottom of all of his things, and if that was just the beginning, then he would have been a fool to refuse.
So when Lord Velaryon unhorsed Ser Fell on their fifth pass, Jak rose and clapped with all his energy. At least until Ser Fell looked over at him, and even with his helmet on, Jak knew the man was enraged. So enraged that he called for swords.
The decision made no sense to Jak. The realm had watched Lord Velaryon win the joust here in King's Landing all those years ago, and recognised him as one of the best lancers in the world. But even at that, his skill with the sword was still more highly rated. Jak had seen the man in the yard, weaving through three or four skilled knights at a time and beating them all with no one touching him. Ser Fell should have known this as well. Should have known that he was a better jouster than swordsman, and he'd just lost the joust to this man quite handily. So why would he call for swords?
The answer did not come from the fight itself. Because it went exactly as expected. Willas, one of the castle Squires, brought Ser Fell his sword, and Prince Aegon came with the Valyrian steel blade, Riptide. It only lasted more than a few seconds because Lord Velaryon wished it to be so. He waited for Ser Fell to attack, blocked the first slash with a flick of his wrist, and then by the next motion, he was dragging his blade across his opponent's breastplate with a screeching sound that cut through the frenzy of the watching smallfolk, bringing them all to a pregnant silence.
Ser Fell looked down at the breastplate. The blade had not gone through. Not even Valyrian Steel could cut through armour like that. At least, Jak did not think it could. It was not like he saw a lot of them in use on a day to day basis. It had, however, scored a long line across the steel of the armour. Even from here, Jak could tell it would be a pain to polish that out. He thanked the Seven he was no longer the one that would be expected to deal with that.
Ser Fell, enraged, spun to face the waiting Velaryon Lord. He attacked again, this time with a powerful swing. Lord Velaryon dodged the attack, and then ran his blade across the plackart while stepping past him. Another screeching sound. Another line in the armour. Ser Fell came again. Lord Velaryon caught the next swing, forcing him backwards. Ser Fell moved with the momentum, twisting with his waist and trying to cut the man in front of him in two. Lord Velaryon was already gone by then, only the line he'd created along Ser Fell's cuisse serving as proof that he had been there. He took a step back and when Ser Fell turned, he gestured for him to come again.
It continued in that vein for the next five minutes, practically dancing around Jak's former Knight and using his armour as a canvas. At the end of it, Ser Fell was breathing heavily, and looked to be spitting mad. Jak had never seen him that angry. He was so angry that he took off his helmet in frustration. Tossing it to the ground. It rolled until it came to a stop facing Jak and he could see the four different lines drawn across it in the shape of an X.
This time, when Ser Fell charged, Lord Velaryon blocked, kicked him in the poleyn, making his leg buckle, and then smashed him straight in the face with his gauntlet. The crowd was silent. The whole display had been watched in total silence as Lord Velaryon humiliated a Knight of the Kingsguard and earned his place in the final round of the joust. When he lifted his hand, however, the crowd forgot its silence, cheering loudly as ever.
Jak was not certain of many things in this life. One thing he was sure of, though, was that no one would ever call for swords against Lord Laenor Velaryon again.
XXXXX- AEGON
Aegon shrugged at the looks the other squires gave him as Lord Velaryon came over with his horse. He'd told them his Lord was the best. Yes, every squire said that, but Aegon actually knew his to be the truth. Even a Knight of the Kingsguard couldn't challenge him. And Aegon knew Ser Cargyll was better than Ser Fell when it came down to it.
"What did we learn today?" his Lord asked as they walked to the tent. He led the horse this time instead of handing it over to Aegon.
"That we shouldn't challenge you to swords after a joust?" he asked, not completely certain. Lord Velaryon chuckled.
"No, no. That is obvious enough. I meant what did my actions signify? Why did I do that?" he asked. Aegon stopped to think now, knowing that this was one of those times where Lord Velaryon was testing him. Getting him to use his head. And so he did.
His first, instinctive answer was that it was because Lord Velaryon was angry at being challenged, but Lord Velaryon was not the type to get angry. In fact, the things that should have made him angry amused him more often than not. The times he'd gotten angry, it had been because of someone else being affected, not himself. That wasn't it. So it wasn't anger then. Lord Velaryon had thought it through.
He'd not just beaten Ser Fell either. If he'd done it simply and quickly like Aegon knew he could have, then that would have just been him taking care of business and getting it over and done with. But that had not been it. He was thorough with it. Like he was showing off what he could do more than anything else. Was the goal to intimidate Ser Fell? No. Not him. He hardly mattered.
It was for everyone else, Aegon realised.
"You set an example with him," Aegon said slowly.
"Indeed. I might pay little attention to them, but I do hear the whispers. Many wonder if I am truly as good as the tales say. So I showed them. But that was not the only reason," he said, giving Aegon a look that told him he was supposed to figure out the other reason.
"You didn't want anyone to challenge you to swords again," he said a few seconds later as everything clicked.
Lord Velaryon gave him an encouraging sound, and so Aegon kept going.
"Anyone who jousts you in the finals will know what you did to Ser Fell, and will know that challenging you to swords doesn't just mean losing. It means being made a mockery of in front of the entire realm," he said.
"Not just the finals. Tales will spread of today, Aegon. And when the tales spread far and wide enough, anytime I go for a tourney, everyone who faces me will have better sense than to call for swords. A reputation is a useful thing, Aegon," he said.
"Lady Laena says what people think doesn't matter," he said, remembering a conversation he'd had with Bloodstone's Lady when he'd been shy about what the realm would think about him when he returned.
"And my wife is not completely wrong either. It doesn't not matter. It's just that it matters in a different way. What other people think has no bearing on who or what you are. That is a different thing. But it does create who they think you are. This means that how they act towards you depends on what they think about you. So it matters; it just isn't everything," he said, and that made sense to Aegon so he nodded along.
"Who do you think will win?" he asked about the other joust that was about to begin now. Ser Lorent Marbrand of the Kingsguard would be facing Ser Tyland Lannister, the winner of the Tourney of Bloodstone.
"I hope you haven't been visiting the bookkeepers, Aegon?" Lord Velaryon looked over at him, and Aegon felt his cheeks burn as he turned his head away. That had hit surprisingly close to the truth. But it was Helaena's idea.
"No, my Lord," he said, and Lord Velaryon just kept his gaze on him until he began to kick at his feet.
"No Knights of the Kingsguard will make it to the finals," he said, and then he handed the reins of the horse over to Aegon.
"Have her brushed, fed well, and watered," he said. Aegon nodded, happy for the chance to leave.
He took the horse to the stableboys, not turning until he had left Lord Velaryon's eyesight. It had felt like Lord Velaryon was staring at him all the way.
He gave the boy a stag from his coin purse to get his Lord's horse to move to the top of the line. He could demand it as a Prince, but as Lady Sentara oft said, it was better to catch flies with honey than vinegar.
Once he handled that, he doubled back to where he knew his siblings would meet him, not too far from the tents that the Hightower Knights used. Ser Gwayne could never say no to Helaena when she asked him for something, after all.
He found them after little searching.
Helaena looked at him like she was irritated at how long he'd taken while Aemond was skittish, looking around.
"So?" Helaena asked, prompting him.
"Lord Velaryon also thinks Ser Lannister will win," he said somewhat grumpily.
"Of course he did. Because Ser Lannister will," she said. She was smug.
"Now, Aemond, can you go place the bet?" she asked.
"The bookkeepers might not be happy. The bet that Ser Fell would lose and call for swords was too good. They looked very upset to pay it out," he said.
Aegon worried at that. Everything his lessons had taught him about people told him that they would do strange things for gold.
"Maybe we shouldn't..." he chanced, but Helaena glared daggers at him for the mere suggestion.
"No. They won't do anything to you, Aemond. You're a Prince," she said.
"But I've been pretending to be a Squire placing bets for his Knights," he said. She just sighed.
"So? Your clothes make it obvious that you are highborn even with your hair covered. Some merchant bookkeepers won't do anything to a noble. You have a Knight sending you, remember?" she asked, irritated. Aegon calmed somewhat at that. No one would be stupid enough to hurt a noble in the Capital. And even if they were, all Aemond had to do was reveal himself as a Prince. The punishment for striking royalty was losing the hand that did the deed. No one would risk that.
"But what do we even need the gold for? Don't we have enough?" Aemond asked. Aegon found himself nodding in agreement. He barely touched the allowance he received from Lord Velaryon and he still got one from the Red Keep. He couldn't imagine what he would spend all that gold on.
Helaena barked a harsh laugh before glaring at the two of them.
"We need it because I said so. Now, are you going to place it or should I go do it myself? The match is about to start," she threatened. Aemond looked over to him.
Aegon just sighed and shook his head.
"I'll go instead of Aem. Let me handle it," he said.
"No, they'll recognise Lord Velaryon's squire," Helaena cut in.
"If they can't recognise Prince Aemond Targaryen behind a scarf and some mud, then they won't recognise me either," he said. And if they did recognise him, he had his dagger in case any trouble did arise.
"Fine. Just place the bet now," she said. She snatched the sack of gold from Aemond's belt and gave it to him. He nodded, and then waited for her and Aemond, who shot him grateful looks all the while, to put his hair into a rough braid before hiding it under a scarf before plopping a rough helmet over it and then smearing some mud over his face to look like he'd been playing in it. All the while Helaena whispered the bet he should place in his ears. He swapped his black and red for the brown and black outfit Aemond had brought for himself. It was short at the ankles and tight at the lap, chest, and arms, but it fit well enough. He would not be attending a feast. Just placing a bet with some smallfolk. So he raced away after hiding his dagger at his waist.
The bookkeeper's shop was not too far from the tourney grounds. There were loads of smallfolk milling about but few actually at the table placing bets. They were also streaming back to the watching fields.
He walked to join the short line. He was the third to the front and listened to the bets others placed while replaying his in his head as he did so.
Most were betting on Ser Marbrand to win it.
"Boy? What do you have for me?" the Bookkeeper asked. Aegon's helmet prevented him from seeing the looks the three men at the table exchanged as he walked forth. Three of them were fat, with the slimmest still a few stone above what Aegon considered usual for smallfolk. They also dressed richer than most smallfolk. At either side of the table stood a guard.
"20 gold dragons. Ser Lannister to win, after six tilts," he said. He chanced a glance at their faces now, seeing the greed in their eyes as they accepted his bet and noted it down. The man in the middle did some sums and then spoke.
"Bet taken," he said, picking up a wooden chip and handing it over to Aegon.
So Aegon waited for the match to begin. He went to watch, standing not too far from the smallfolk so he would not have to walk too much into the noble areas and risk recognition.
And true to what Helaena said, both knights exchanged five lances, each breaking their lance against the other but neither managing to secure anything decisive. At least until the sixth tilt.
There, Ser Lannister found a weakness in Ser Marbrand's previously stalwart defence. Their horses thundered past each other, but where Ser Lannister lifted his lance in victory while astride his, Ser Marbrand slumped backwards on the back of the horse, trying to hold on and almost defying Helaena's prediction for a second before he succumbed to the force that pulled things to the ground. He hit it to cheers from much of the crowd, and groans from a lot of those Aegon could recognise from the betting tables.
He went back to claim his winnings, and found himself at the back of a small line. Longer than before but still not too bad.
When he found himself in front, he exchanged the wooden chip they had given him when he placed the wager. He nodded, and stretched out to receive the purse.
"Don't come back here, boy. I don't know what you and that friend of yours think you are doing, but even Lordlings can be made to disappear in this here capital," he said, his voice a growl filled with aggression.
Aegon was shocked. So shocked that his eyes snapped to the bookkeeper's. The man flinched backwards.
"My Prince, I did not know it was you. I am sorry," he said, pushing himself backwards and falling to his knees. People were looking at them now.
"Rise. Rise. Stop drawing attention," he said. The men listened, but it had taken him too long. They were now the centre of attention. Aegon took the bag and sprinted away, not keen on risking even more attention. Mother would kill him if this somehow got back to her. Lord Velaryon as well, he added.
He raced back to the meeting spot, not able to watch where he was going as well as he wanted to and then running into someone. He hit the man at full speed, near falling to the ground as the man lurched backwards.
"Sorry," he shouted back as he kept going, with his hands wrapped around his winnings.
"Thief," either the man or someone else had shouted, and then others carried on the shout, the sound following Aegon's sprint. With the whole area looking for him, it did not take long for someone to step in his way. He tried to move around the man, but another man caught him in his grasp. Picking him up at his midsection.
A/N: Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena as a group amuse me so much. And yes, I'm playing a game with everyone's favourite daughter of Viserys. I promise there's a reason she seems different. Next chapter comes on here by Sunday night (Only one chapter this week). Next three chapters up on patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)(same username as here and link in bio), support me there and read them early.