Being the Master of Laws was tiring work. While one might have assumed it was possible to simply appoint a smattering of judges and be done with it, occasionally punishing the most corrupt of the lot, it proved to be so much more than that. No, he was charged with upholding the king's law in the Seven Kingdoms.
A local merchant objected to a ruling by one of the judges he appointed? That was an appeal he had to answer. After he combed through the relevant tomes on previous cases and how they pertained to the current laws.
A vassal disagreed with his lord's ruling on a certain case? That was an appeal he had to direct to his father. After he combed through the relevant tomes on previous cases and how they pertained to the current laws.
A vassal asked for clarification on the enforcement of a certain set of laws? That was a letter he had to send. After combing through the relevant tomes on that law and any similar laws throughout history.
There was a pattern, and Baelon Targaryen did not like it.
It was a pattern that required him to work long into the night, reading boring page after boring page of a boring tome that was thick enough to use as a pillow, frequently by the poor light of the candle. Oh, he could have gotten it done during the day, but not without ignoring his family.
And no boy of his was going to grow up without his father.
Worst of all, since assuming his brother's post, he had barely been able to ride Vhagar or train in the yard! If he rose early enough in the morning, when dawn was still breaking, he was able to get an hour's training in the yard before needing to work. But waking at such an ungodly hour was difficult enough. And the riding… the riding he left for special occasions.
Like when his son wanted to go flying. The thought brought a smile to his face. Vhagar was an even flier, nowhere near as swift as Meleys, but Viserys seemed to enjoy just looking at the world below, wonder writ clear on his chubby cheeks. Gods, how he wished he could spend more time with him.
But his father's commands took precedence. And one of those was to stay fit, so to the training yard he went.
That morning, as with every morning he was there, the training yard was almost deserted. Three knights of the Kingsguard were in attendance, their remaining sworn brothers no doubt either sleeping or guarding the royal family. Two of the three present were sparring with one another, but the third fought a man little more than a year out of his minority.
Cruel the thought may have been, it was amusing to see Vaegon struggling with an opponent. For the normally dominant combatant to be on the back foot, on the defensive, was a rare sight. He was barely able to land a hit, taking ten blows in exchange for each. Even then, those rare hits did next to nothing. Not even the strikes with his shield, those brutal blows he was so fond of, were effective.
As Baelon drew closer, the white knight signaled an end to the fight and nodded a greeting to him. Vaegon turned, surprised by his presence, nodded a greeting of his own. Though the many thick layers of padding could disguise much, his brother seemed none the worse for wear after the bout.
"Baelon." He seemed unsurprised to see him in the yard at so early an hour. "Here to train?"
His brother leveled the blunted tourney sword towards him, and Baelon suppressed the relief surging within his breast. The sword was not his brother's preferred weapon. That honor was reserved to the war hammer he had trained with for so many years, but it appeared he was weaning himself off that brutal weapon.
"Why else would I come here dressed for a fight?" Baelon raised his own sword in salute, and Vaegon matched the motion without hesitation. They drew closer, swords meeting with the ring of steel one steel in a pre-battle sign of respect, swiftly drawing away to begin their fight.
Baelon began the exchange with a swift slash aimed at his brother's ribs, who caught it on his own sword before retaliating viciously with his shield. Its point would have slammed into his head, had he not managed to interpose his own shield.
The blow still rattled him and sent his head ringing. Gods, he was strong. Luckily, Baelon was no stripling squire to be brought down by a single solid blow. Staggering back, he only barely got his own shield up in time to stop a thrust to his midsection.
Again, he was driven back by the force of the blow.
A stinging pain rose from his thigh an instant later. His sight was blocked by his shield and the narrow view-slits of his helm, but he could guess what happened: Vaegon had slammed his sword against his leg. His leg which did not enjoy the same protection as his upper body, covered only by his trousers.
There was only one solution, really: aggression. It worked well enough against Aemon.
Sometimes.
When he got lucky.
Back when Aemon was still at court.
Reversing his momentum, Baelon swung his sword in a brutal chop aimed at Vaeg's right shoulder. It was a bold move, aggressive, and just begging to be blocked and punished. Should he block with the sword, he would leave his right side open. Should he use his shield, he would have to twist to catch it in time, leaving him off balance for a second attack.
His brother did neither.
Instead of stopping the attack, Vaegon stepped into the attack. Instead of being hit by the sword, he was hit by an arm. A padded arm striking a padded jacket. The gust of a raven's wings would have had more of an impact than that blow.
Vaegon's thrust caught him below the ribs, driving the air out of his lungs and sending back another pace.
Riding the blow, Baelon spun on his heel, bringing his sword around for a savage blow to his brother's back. This one, this one attack, managed to connect, driving Vaegon back a step, giving Baelon a moment to moment to collect himself.
It had been a risk, but well worth it.
His brother, unfortunately, took it as a personal challenge.
The blunted sword came for Baelon's head, only barely dodged, but it was enough of a distraction for Vaegon to drive his shield into his side, pain lancing up his side. But he did not stop there. Pivoting, he swung his blade into the back of Baelon's knee, sending him tumbling to the ground, the breath driven from his lungs from the impact.
For a moment, he laid there, staring up at the sky painted with all the colors of the dawn, the pale red walls of the keep barely visible at the edge of his vision. It was a beautiful sky, no doubts about it, a magnificent blend of reds, yellows, oranges, and every shade and hue in-between. It matched the barely illuminated walls of the keep rather nicely.
And he got to enjoy it because he lost. Bested in a fight by his little brother. No, not bested. Outfought, outmaneuvered, overpowered, and defeated in almost every sense of the word. By his little brother who had been fighting for who knew how long that day.
"Vengeance!" His wife's familiar high-pitched voice drew him out of his melancholy before it could truly settle, her bright laughter carrying through the otherwise still training yard. It was muffled, by a helmet no doubt, but it was unmistakably her voice. The sound of fighting quickly had him back on his feet, sword and shield held ready to face… ready to behold Alyssa swinging enthusiastically at Vaegon. "Come now, Baelon! Push the attack!"
A broad grin spread across his face. Fighting alongside his wife? Oh, this he could do.
He charged into the fray, nearly tackling his brother, and forcing him to retreat further. His darling wife broke off her attack and circled around to try and flank him. Unfortunately, his little brother was too canny to let himself be defeated by something so simple, and charged Baelon in turn, ringing his head like a bell with a well-placed swing of his sword.
The sound was deafening, and Baelon found himself stumbling back, his head ringing, and another blow knocked him down again.
Luckily, Alyssa was there to ring Vaegon's head in turn, the sound music to his ears. It elicited an amused snort from the Master of Laws. Soon, that snort turned into a laugh as Vaegon doggedly blocked each following blow with his shield. Alyssa might not have been the tallest woman, but she was aggressive when she wanted something.
But why wasn't he attacking back? All he was doing was retreating, drawing ever closer to his position.
He got his answer a moment later, just as he regained his footing. Vaegon whirling around faster than a man of size should have been able to, sending Alyssa to collide with Baelon. He did not see what had happened, still tired from his previous defeat, allowing his wife to roll off and disappear from his vision.
A blade suddenly appeared over his head, and Alyssa spoke.
"I will now accept your yield, Vaegon," she declared in a tone of exaggerated confidence and swagger. "I have your brother and am not afraid to make a scene."
"Aren't we on the same side?" he asked from the ground, the aches from the round with Vaegon making themselves felt. No way was he getting up unless he absolutely had to.
"Yes, but he doesn't know that," she said in a false whisper that was somehow louder than her regular speech. It was a complete and utter lie, but it was enough to make him laugh. That alone was worth it. "You hear me? Throw down your sword or the handsome lug gets it!"
"Fine," Vaegon said, and the blade hovering above Baelon's head wavered. Baelon, too, sat up a bit. His brother was not one to skip a bit of lighthearted fun. "This round is yours."
"Vaeg?" Baelon asked, rising to his feet as his wife's sword was easily pushed aside. He was not sure what concerned him more: his brother not wanting to keep fighting or his brother being so quick to give in. No, he decided, the reluctance to fight was far more concerning. "Are you well?"
"Never better," his brother replied, removing his helmet. True to his word, he looked the picture of health. He even looked well-rested and awake, in stark contrast to how Baelon had felt when he entered the training yard that morning. "I merely have a busy day ahead of me."
"As you did yesterday?" Alyssa asked, clearly referencing some event he had not been privy to, and a pang of regret shot through him. His sister had been looking for company, and her first choice had been Vaegon? Baelon really had been too busy with his work, he realized. Perhaps he could have a word with Father, see if he had any advice.
"As I do every day," he answered, moving to put his training gear into its basket for the servants to clean. A clean white doublet was already in his hand, no doubt having been brought along to save time. "I am a busy man."
"Too busy to spend time with your favorite brother?" Alyssa asked lightheartedly. "And your favorite good-sister?"
"You're my sister," Vaegon pointed out.
"So is Maegelle and I know I cannot compete with her," she shot back, undeterred and unwilling to give in so quickly. "So? Too busy for your favorite pair of siblings?"
"If you insist, then I suppose I can spare some time," Vaegon said, a sly smile on his face. "I'm certain the others won't mind having you join our discussion on the finer details of the Seven Who Are One."
"Tragically, I will need to get back to my duties as Master of Laws before too long," Baelon said, feigning resignation. Truly a shame, to have to miss hours of riveting discussion about whether the Smith was limited to physical works, but he would cope.
"Hah!" Alyssa laughed, seemingly uncaring for the dullness the rest of her morning entailed. "More time with the twins for me!"
Oh, right, Vaegon's children.
Damn it.
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