I was tired. After the fight, after killing the first three things I'd ever killed in my entire life...I was just tired. Not physically, however.
Physically, I was more than fine. I felt like I could fight another group of Trolls. But mentally...I was drained. Experiencing the gore of another somewhat intelligent species...was different to an animal I'd hunted in my past life. Don't get me wrong, killing animals still messed me up a little but those kills didn't drain me mentally so much.
...Regardless, I'd have to get used to this. I'd be doing it more from now on alongside bandit hunting. The latter of which would include killing people - though after killing the very humanoid Forest Trolls, I felt like I was more ready for that than most people who have to kill a human for the first time.
But that, right now, was beyond me and a problem for future me. Currently, I was more interested in the hot and relaxing water I was currently bathing in.
As expected of a Prince's lifestyle, I only received the best.
The best soaps and nice smelling oils, to name a few. This would also include the best serving maidens in the Seven Kingdoms but I was more than capable of washing my own body. Besides, bathing was a time when I could rest and relax without worrying about etiquette or those around me. I could just lay in some water and not worry about everything currently happening and everything that would happen. I bathed every night/evening just because of that relaxing feeling I got while I was in hot water.
Yet that seemed like it was about to be invaded upon as I felt the vibrations of footsteps through the tiles I was leaning my head on. Soon enough, the clicking of high-quality women's shoes against tile was echoing.
It came to a stop right next to my head and without opening my eyes, I spoke up, "Hello mother," I greeted, "I assume news has reached you about the triumphant success of uncle and I. Though, may I ask who told you?" I wondered aloud, fishing for any information. It could've been Varys, Petyr Baelish, or one of her own personal spies - a maid or a servant who overheard Jaime and I before we left.
I'd like to know who specifically. I hate schemes but I seem to have a particular talent of attracting them.
My hair color does most of it, I'll admit. But I guess my personality has made me somewhat irritable - I rarely ever hide my disdain for Varys or Petyr. Why? Prejudices born from my foreknowledge. I also dislike their kind of people. Malicious and full of low cunning.
I have no problem with schemes. Because as much as it annoys me, not everything can be solved through brute force. Tactics and strategy are needed in a world like this where armies of thousands of men will meet and clash on the battlefield - I was strong, a bona fide Westeros Hercules. But could I fight thousands of men on my own? No. I'd take a few hundred down with me but in the end, I'd still die.
Which means schemes and strategy are something I need.
And because of my peculiar birthright, I need to be aware of all threats. Especially schemes from people like Varys and Petyr.
What's peculiar about my birthright? The fact I have silver-gold hair that borders on being white. It's spawned quite a few...let's call them rumors. Rumors that say my mother was raped by Rhaegar before he died, that I'm not the King's real son--all slander, obviously. My Targaryen similarities come from the fact my great-grandmother was a Targaryen. That's all.
Yet that hasn't stopped me being called the second coming of the Mad King. A common insult my inbred younger brother Joffrey never fails to say whenever I scare him. It's also a common saying among the smallfolk.
...Despite never having shown a symptom of insanity, it just stuck. Which tells me someone started that rumor on purpose and has been keeping it going, fanning the flames.
"Yes, I've heard of your stupidity, Leo," mother's grave voice spoke out after her prolonged silence, "And I've heard of how my brother, your uncle, applauded you for it. Two peas in a pod, aren't you? A couple idiots with no brains and skulls filled with muscle!" her solemn tone took on a harsh sharpness as she continued, her voice continuing to raise, "Did you not think about how your actions would affect the kingdom? How they would affect me?!" she finished in a shout and I let out a barely audible sigh as I opened my eyes.
I saw the upside down angry mother, her green eyes looking very severe as they glared down at me. Her red lips twisted in a frown that looked somewhat like an angry smile from my position.
Closing my eyes again, I shrugged, "How would my death affect the kingdom?" I questioned with a dismissing tone, "I was forcibly removed from my position from Crown Prince as soon as Joffrey was born on account for my incriminating hair color or whatever. I'd just be another dead prince - there are an innumerable throughout history and yet the Seven Kingdoms continued just fine."
Things went silent at that before my head was jerked to the side, a harsh slapping sound echoing around the bathing chamber. I cracked an eye open to see my crouching mother, her hand lowered after she'd just slapped me - I kind of expect that.
Looking at her rapidly reddening hand, I could easily see that her slap had hurt her more than it had me. I could barely even feel a thing from where she'd slapped me on the side of the face.
Yet her face held no pain. All it had was a furious scowl and green eyes alight with fury, "Your death would affect the kingdom because it would affect ME!" she growled, obviously angered by my attitude and dismissiveness.
"I cannot afford to cower in fear at danger just because you cannot steel yourself, mother," I allowed myself to be harsh before sighing, "I have no desire to die, so please rest assured that I will not let myself get killed by some idiotic Trolls. Besides, you must have heard, mother - I took down one of the Hill Trolls alongside uncle. I'm more than the average Knight, you know?" I felt a smirk growing across my face.
Mother was just...silent. Opening my eyes once more to look at her, she was standing straight once again and looking down at me with a saddened gaze before it vanished and was replaced with frustration.
"...I knew I should've banned you from fighting as soon as you asked. This is nothing if not the same as the time Jaime first discovered sword fighting - no one could deter him once he'd chosen to be a Knight," she sighed, turning away from me when her eyes looked like they were getting wet, "Wash up, get dressed in your better silks and make way to your father's personal solar. He has asked for your presence."
That truly surprised me. My eyes were definitely wide open when I heard that.
When was the last time I saw my father? Years. Many, many years ago. It was when I first started using a two-handed warhammer/maul as my main weapon.
I caught a glimpse of him watching me practice, and for a second I saw a ghost of a smile on his face before he frowned and walked away. That alone should tell you my relationship with my father was a complicated one. Luckily I was a fully matured adult, mentally. Which meant I wouldn't be growing up with any parental issues.
Still, it did kind of suck ass to get treated like a stain. Just for different reasons than some probably expect - I cared little for his lack of parental love for me. What I did care about was how his lack of parental love affected my position in Westeros.
As it were, I'm somewhat of a taboo prince and that's purely because of how much my father hates Targaryens. And with my hair color he just seems to be reminded of Rhaegar - which has led him to cutting me off at every crossroad. I was never allowed to squire to a Knight, nor was I allowed to page with my grandfather Tywin. Most of all, like I'd said, I was pushed from my position of Crown Prince when Joffrey was born. All because of my hair color and because my father was cucked by someone with the same hair color.
...It's absurd.
So, for that man, a man who treats me like a stain in his palace...that man, wants me to come to his solar? Weird. A little bit TOO weird.
As mother left, I stood and walked over to the towel rack and began to dry myself off as I thought about why he could be calling me to his solar. The first thing that came to mind was the Troll subjugation and how we'd come back with the charred body of a Hill Troll - even more likely that he'd heard about my personal involvement in taking the Troll down.
Which meant he wanted to reward me, or at the very least talk to me.
Yet that didn't fit his nature. When he hates something or someone, he's anything but civil about his interactions with that person. Just look at how he sent those assassins after Daenerys just because she was pregnant and seemed to be gaining a little power.
...Just what is that drunk bastard thinking?
. . .
"Do you hate me, lad?" was the first thing he said after sitting in silence, stamping on documents with his wax seal. He leveled his surprisingly calm gaze across his heavy and wide desk, his pot belly barely avoiding from being pressed up against it.
He'd changed so much over the years. Wine, abnormal amounts of food, whoring every night--it'd turned him from the tall and muscular man he had been, and into a tall fat man reminiscent of a Hill Troll. Yet his arms were still well-muscled and my instincts told me he was still much stronger than the average Knight.
His bright blue eyes, eyes I shared, stared down at me. My above average height for my age didn't seem so impressive when faced with my father who was easily 6'6".
I thought about my answer before shaking my head, "Not really, no," I answered before continuing with honesty, "I don't really love you either, however. I guess you could say I'm neutral with you," I finished and father raised his eyebrows in surprise, no doubt not having had someone talk to him so frankly in a while.
He laughed, though the laughter was quiet and subdued and didn't reach his eyes which were still neutral as they looked at me, "Quite an impertinent thing to say to your father and King, is it not? Regardless of you being a Prince, I could have you chained and thrown in the dungeons for saying that."
"But you wouldn't," I countered with a small smile, "Because what would be the point? It's obvious neither of us is really fond of the other. Why lie about it? I'm sure you have to deal with that bollocks most of the time, so this should be quite refreshing, no?"
Things went silent again before father actually began to properly laugh. It was reminiscent of that laugh I'd first seen him do when I'd just been born. A full-blown belly laugh.
"You're bloody right, lad," he said through booming laughter before his laughter came to a sudden stop, "But you'd do well to remember that whether or not it's refreshing, I could still flog you for that kind of behavior. Pick your wordings better."
"I'll try, father," I resisted the urge to shrug, feeling the genuine threat in his words.
Nodding, he spoke, "Good. You're not all brawn like your mother keeps nagging on about," he said, seeming to compliment me while also complaining about mother. It was a very half-arsed compliment anyway. A backhanded compliment as well, from the wording of it. "I heard you took down a Hill Troll with your hammer. That's quite an achievement for a boy only ten and three namedays old."
"I only brought it down to a height where my uncle could slice into it's neck. It was also on fire and weakened - I hardly took it down," I decided to play it humble, knowing that flaunting it would get me nowhere.
"You say that as if every boy at ten and three namedays should be able to shatter a Hill Trolls leg with a 20lbs maul," he shook his head at my humble display before he waved his hand in front of him, "Alas, I suppose it's a good thing you're not arrogant. It'll do you well in what's to come in your future position." The way he said that made a bad feeling settle in my gut, he could mean my position as a prince...but I doubt it.
As if to prove me correct, my father picked up a piece of parchment and passed it over the desk toward me. I took it with narrowed eyes and read through it.
When I got to the pertinent part, I mumbled it aloud, "...Due to a recent rise in nonhuman population...a new order has been made--What?" I said simply as I read the last part, "Father...is this true?" I turned the parchment back toward him and pointed toward the last sentence, "You want me to head this order of Monster hunting Knights? I'm not even a Knight--!" I was cut off when he stood up, pulling a sword from nearby.
He walked around the desk, his lumbering steps making loud thumps under his weight and utter size, "Kneel, lad," he said and I looked up at him. I understood instantly what he was about to do and it frustrated the living hell out of me.
Yet what could I do? Defy the King's orders? He wasn't lying when he said he held all the power here. He does. If I defy his orders, my life would become much harder.
Besides, who would fight being a Knight? Especially if turning it down at such dire circumstances.
With a sigh, I got off my chair and got down on one knee. It bit at my pride to kneel to someone, especially my no-good drunkard father, but if I was to kneel to anyone, there are worse choices than the King of Westeros. It's not like I'm kneeling to a beggar on the street or some common Knight or Lord.
Father laid the sword on my right shoulder before he spoke, "Leo Baratheon, first of your name and Prince of the Seven Kingdoms...do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?"
I stifled my frown, keeping my face down and looking at the ground as I replied, "I swear upon the Seven that I will," I agreed, my hand truly being forced.
The sword moved from my right shoulder, over my head and onto my left shoulder.
"You may rise, Ser Leo Baratheon," he said and I sighed inaudibly before standing and looking up at my father.
"Does mother know about this? That you're forcing me into a new order of Knights and making me march around the Kingdoms as some sort of glorified exterminator?" I questioned as I brushed off nonexistent dust from my high-quality white tunic, "Because you can bet she'll kick up quite the fuss over this. She nearly gave herself a heart attack reprimanding me just for going out on one subjugation mission."
Father gave me a look before shaking his head and looking away, "You leave your mother to me. She may make a scene but I'm the King and what I say goes, regardless of who her father is," he said this, walked back to his seat and put the sword away.
All before gesturing for me to leave.
...I see how it is. You saw a chance to get me out of the Red Keep, so you took it. Saw that I could take on monsters, and now you think that'll give you enough of a cushion to justify your decision? Right, I see how it is.
I can't wait to watch you bleed out after you're gored by a boar you fat, drunken bastard. I'll smile so hard my cheeks will hurt.
Giving him one last look, I turned and left the room.
I'd go along with this but I'd use it like the experience it was. Years of fighting monsters should give me some pretty good combat experience. I'll no doubt have to deal with Human bandits as well, so I should be able to learn how to deal with humans in a way that isn't just swing my hammer as hard as possible. I should be able to build some real technique.
Then I'll come back just in time for plot, whenever that happens. I'll try and make my way back when Jon Arryn dies.
...Huh, would you look at that? I could've saved his parental figure if he wasn't such an arse.
What a shame that I'm such a petty person.