Capítulo 1: Thoughts Of An Old Knight and The Thoughts Of A Young Prince
Barristan had never seen this before. Not even in all his years as a member of the Kingsguard. Not even when he saw a young Arthur Dayne could compare to the absurdity that he was seeing right now.
A boy ten and one name days old...parrying a seasoned Knight. There was two things absurd about this.
One, it was hard to find older squires who could pull off such a parry against a man who'd experienced the battlefield of a war. Two, it was hard to find such strength in such a young person. Parrying took skill but it also took reflexes to see and react to the person's attack and the strength to redirect the hit once you'd reacted to it.
Barristan knew he wouldn't have been able to mimic the feat if he were a young child the same age as the young one in front of him.
Tommen Baratheon. Younger twin brother to Joffrey Baratheon. Yet, from the disparity in their mentality, you'd think Tommen was the much older one. Even being twins didn't change the fact that the two of them were the opposites of one another.
Joffrey was a twisted and sadistic child. That much was clear to the old Kingsguard who'd spent some time around the eldest prince since his birth. Tommen, however...he was kind. He certainly wouldn't call the boy gentle or reserved but he could definitely see kindness in his eyes whenever he looked at his younger siblings. He also lacked the eldest prince's arrogance and whatever confidence he did have, was well-founded.
The differences only grew beyond their personalities. Joffrey was a tall boy, but Tommen was taller and with the added benefit of being very athletically endowed.
The latter of which was being shown currently as Tommen parried a Knight's attack.
The Knight went in for a downward slash and Tommen skillfully deflected the blunt training sword away from his body with the flat of his own blade before bringing the training sword around to the neck of his opponent. A technical killing blow.
Slowly, clapping was heard to the right of Barristan, who turned to see the boy's uncle, Jaime Lannister, smiling as he watched the embarrassed Knight thank the prince for the spar before he speed walked away after getting a nod and a smile from Tommen. Jaime walked to Tommen and clasped him on the shoulder, "By the Gods, you're getting better everyday, nephew," he smiled down at the shorter blond.
Seeing the two of them right next to one another, Barristan could easily see the resemblance between the two. Which he supposed wasn't too unusual - Queen Cersei and her brother were twins that shared very similar appearances. It made sense that Tommen looked similar to his uncle.
...Yet when placed side by side like this, it was just far too uncanny. Like father and son, rather than uncle and nephew.
He was brought from these thoughts when Tommen turned to him, still smiling, "Ser, how did I do?" he asked in a polite manner but others would say he was obviously still looking for compliments. Yet, Barristan knew otherwise. He wasn't looking for compliments but instead he was asking for the older Knight's critiques.
"You did fine, lad. But there's always room for improvement," I recounted a few of his mistakes in my head but I could find anything major, "You may want to make the transition between defense and attack a bit more fluid but other than that, Prince Tommen, you're making stunning progress."
The boy may only be ten and one namedays old, yet he already acted with a maturity well beyond his age. Not just that, he didn't allow his natural talents to turn his confidence to arrogance and neither did he stop training hard despite how quickly he progressed. He was always searching for a new thing to master in terms of combat.
Prince Tommen had only been squired to Barristan for the formality of having one of the elder princes learning from one of the best Knights in the Seven Kingdoms.
Barristan had been prepared for treacherous days where he'd have to hold his tongue but when he'd met the boy, such worries had washed away. After a year of teaching him, those worries were long forgotten and replaced with pride.
If only he knew how on the mark he was about a lot of the things he'd said.
. . .
POV Change - Tommen Baratheon (First Person)
Nodding to Barristan's words of advice, I was instantly thinking of ways to improve my movements to make them quicker and more fluid. Though that didn't mean I didn't hear my uncle scoff.
"Come on, Barristan--Did you not see him parry a full-grown adult? His parry is plenty good by now," he seemed like he was sticking up for me - and truthfully, he was - but that didn't mean I wanted him to. I needed to improve and what was good enough right now, wouldn't be good enough in the future.
I need not the loose praise of the present but the guaranteed victory of the future. Something my grandfather, Tywin Lannister, had been sure to brand into my head when I was a younger.
If it weren't for the fact I was already mentally an adult, I don't doubt the fact that he would've been able to brainwash me into the perfect little heir of his. Not that I disliked the old codger or anything. In fact, I got on with him just fine and I enjoyed his lessons about economics and how the world is ruled through gold and fear.
I personally believe there is more that rules the world than just those two specific things but I do see their importance in the bigger picture. Without gold, you're a beggar. Without fear, people will think it's okay to fuck with you.
Alas, grandparents and their wacky lessons aside, I looked up to Barristan who cast a knowing glance at me with I returned before he cracked a smile and looked back to Jaime, "My hands are tied, Ser Jaime. Prince Tommen himself ordered me to point out any mistakes I see in his swordplay."
Uncle looked to me with a raised eyebrow and when I didn't say anything refute Barristan's words, his eyes widened a little in surprise.
"Certainly a mature move to make, nephew," he nodded, bringing a hand to his chin, "Maybe I should start taking our spars a bit more seriously?" he wondered aloud, trying to tease me. Yet how could such an attempt work?
Smirking, I gave a reply, "I was looking for a challenge, actually, uncle." This reply caused Barristan to start chuckling as Jaime looked somewhat taken aback by my words before he ruffled my hair up, mumbling something about me being just like Tyrion. Probably because I have quite the sharp tongue and can be surprisingly quick witted at times.
We walked away from the center of the courtyard and toward some chairs surrounding a small-ish round table. Sitting down, I poured myself a cup of water before downing it in a few large gulps. After pouring myself a second cup and taking another sip, I let out a refreshed sigh.
The sweltering heat was still present in King's Landing which meant we were still nowhere near the start of the plot. Same goes for Jon Arryn. He's still alive and well, despite being so old and feeble, so I know I have quite a bit to go in terms of time until canon.
It's been just over a decade since I woke up as a baby in crib, and it wasn't until I was 4-years-old that I realized I was different than a normal person, physically.
Not only had I learned to walk before I turned 1, I quickly became able to run and control my body like an adult shortly after being able to walk. I was stronger than a child should be. Faster. More coordinated. And these advantages only got bigger and bigger as I continued to exercise my body through sword training alongside hand-to-hand combat lessons. It was clear to me by now that I was one of those people who were reborn and given a cheat suitable for the world they found themselves in.
Only 'suitable', because while I was strong for an 11-year-old, I was by no means overpowering fully grown Knights in arm-wrestling contests. But put me up against any 11-year-old, 12-year-old, 13-year-old and 14-year-old, and I could confidently say I'd outdo them at every physical contest you could think of.
Enough of that, anyway.
Who am I? Or more specifically, who was I? I WAS, a 20-year-old deadbeat called Thomas who lived in England. I was your average guy, I guess. Average height, average looks, average success in relationships, yada yada yada--Average. The only thing that wasn't average about me was the way I died.
An airplane fell from the sky and crushed my apartment, killing me in the process. Then I woke up as a baby, who turned out to be the incestuous child between Cersei Lannister and Jaime Lannister and who was also the twin brother for Joffrey.
As soon as I realized that, I put in the effort to train myself. So that I wouldn't be a deadbeat in this world - a world that would get you killed if you weren't ready for it.
Time passed. I was paged to my grandfather for a short time between the ages of five and nine before returning to King's Landing. Where I spent a further year studying medicine with the Maesters before finally being squired to Barristan Selmy, the best teacher I could ask for in terms of the sword. Still, I wasn't satisfied with just that - I took it upon myself to ask my 'uncle' to teach me and give me a few lessons on the side which overall helped my ability tremendously.
Though, in truth, what helped me the most was the fact I could learn so quickly. Opposed to the average talents I had in my past life, my new body and self have incredibly talent. More importantly, I have an incredibly mind. I can't forget things, I can perfectly recall everything that has happened in this life and it doesn't take me long to understand a subject or break down a lesson into what it's actually teaching me.
Which is why I only spent a year with the Maesters: because I only needed a year.
Truthfully, I'm enjoying my new life. Who wouldn't be? I'm a Prince of a very, very rich royal family. I can have whatever I want, however I want it. I'm gifted physically and academically, and I'll no doubt grow to be an incredibly handsome man. I can see no wrong with my current life.
Sure, the technology is horrendous here - there are no phones or internet or comics or TV shows. But in all honesty...I haven't found myself missing any of those.
Probably because I'd have the ability in the future to explore this vast world. Most of this world is Unknown apart from Westeros and Essos. Just thinking about the marvels in a world with things like Dragons makes me genuinely excited at what else could be out there.
Though such things are far in the future and well after whatever canon is going to take place. I have no clue if my existence will change things - while I am called Tommen, that doesn't mean I AM Tommen. The one from the show/books anyway. That chubby younger brother of mine goes by the new name of Kevan Baratheon in this reality. So, Cersei has four children instead of three. Who knows how that'll effect the story.
Finishing my second cup of water, I looked to both my teachers. Neither of the two liked the other very much but they tried to be amicable around me - which meant whenever I left, they'd either go their separate ways in silence or after throwing a vocal barb at the other.
Barristan thought Jaime soiled the white cloak both of them wore with dishonor while Jaime thought Barristan was quite far up his own arse.
I just stayed out of it. I didn't have the time to deal with their dislike of one another.
Besides, who'd take social advice off of an 11-year-old? Even I can see the absurdity in that notion.
"Ser Barristan, uncle," I caught their attention before continuing, "I'll be on my way to the bathhouse then. If either of you need me, I'll be eating after that. Farewell for now, my o' so dear teachers," I cheekily said before running off with the training sword strapped to my side.
I could go for more training but that'd just be overdoing it. I'd already done enough cardio and exercise to make an ordinary man feint, alongside sparring multiple different Knights from this morning until now. After all, you don't need to train harder but instead you need to train smarter. Training too hard can be detrimental, but training too smart can only ever be a good thing. The former results in an injury, while the latter only ever results in better...well, results.
Continuing with my run, I kept my breathing steady and soon made my way to the bathhouse. Even before any training, my cardio and stamina were unreal. It was kind of like I had an actual engine in side my chest instead of a heart. It just kept chugging along steadily unless I was really exerting myself.
Shaking my head, I entered the bathhouse and began to strip myself of my clothing before jumping into the warm, scented water.
Settling into the water, I let out a sigh of relaxation.
. . .
*Timeskip - Seven Years*
...I take it back. I hate being a Prince.
The training, influence, the money, the fame--none of it's worth it. It's like a deal with the devil - you get to see the good parts and the good parts hide the bad parts.
Like seriously--
"Prince Tommen, what do you think?" I was brought from my stupor by a woman sitting across from me. Next to her, my mother, was looking at me with a frown.
"I'm sorry, can you repeat what you said?" I asked, ignoring mother's frown getting deeper.
This. This is what makes it all incredibly tedious.
The woman who was a septa and a faithful believer in the new Gods, nodded her head and repeated what she said, "Do any of these women interest you as a potential wife, Prince Tommen? They are highborn ladies from some of the richest houses in the Seven Kingdoms, all of them worthy in appearance and status."
"Tommen," mother started, "You need to wed at some point. I know how you feel because I felt the same way when I was your age and my arranged marriage with your father was pushed on me. But being ten and eight namedays old and to have yet married is...quite unusual."
Her phrasing was a bit weird but she's right. In Westeros terms, an 18-year-old who has not yet married is quite an unusual sight. But what was I to do? I don't want to diddle little girls and I'm not gonna start anytime soon.
Sighing, I rested my hands on the table before pushing myself up and off my seat, "Like I have said for the past year the two of you have been harassing me about getting a wife; if you want me to marry, let me find someone instead of making these little profiles," I gestured to the dozen or so portraits with accompanying information below the pictures, scoffing as I did so, "They're a waste of parchment." Fed up, I shook my head before beginning to walk away but then I stopped and without looking over my shoulder, I spoke once more, "I've heard of two stunningly beautiful women my own age, mother. I wonder why you haven't suggested them?" I asked, leaving Cersei in a somewhat stunned silence.
I said no more and continued walking until I'd left the room. Once outside it, I kept going for a few dozen more meters before finding a balcony.
Leaning against it, I sighed and closed my eyes as the salty sea air blasted me with ever blow of the wind.
...Over the past few years, these little meetings to discuss my potential marriage was quickly becoming a deal breaker. Why? Because, like I said, I don't want to marry a child. And for some reason, Westerosi standards deem that a bride should be younger than the husband-to-be. It's just...weird.
Though obviously, I'm not the only 18-year-old in Westeros who hasn't married yet. I can name two others my age who haven't married and are also a part of big houses.
Margaery Tyrell and Sansa Stark. The former because of unknown reasons and the latter because of her unrealistic standards - or so I've been told. Either way, those two are both women I really wouldn't mind marrying. Their beauty is practically legendary. So much so that even I, in King's Landing, had heard praises about the she-wolf of the North and the Lord's Daughter beloved by the small-folk in the Reach.
Yet not once had either been proposed in these little marriage talks. Either my mother didn't think it would be befitting of me or, the more likely option, she didn't want me to be married to someone who came from a family with actual power.
Probably because if that happened, I'd have to actually listen to my wife instead of just her.
Not that I even listen to her that much anymore.
I let out another sigh, feeling like that's all I've been doing lately, and I opened my eyes while leaning over the balcony bannister. Looking down at the crashing waves, a chilly air ran down my back and I figured that summer was quickly fleeting. This thought was made a reality when I heard the bells tolling from the sept, signaling Jon Arryn's death. Only those of importance will have the sept's bells rung when they die.
Turning away from the sea and the crashing waves, I felt the faint coldness at my back and suppressed a shiver as I walked back into the Red Keep.
I had some Princely duties to attend to, after all.
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