Faced with Ser Swan's frenzied flexing, Baelon recalled that distant evening when he had first met him.
It had been his Name Day.
As usual, the nobles had presented him with gifts.
A string of 308 natural saltwater pearls from House Velaryon, a lavish illuminated manuscript of the Seven-Pointed Star from House Hightower...
Deep-blue sapphires that glowed scarlet in the firelight, crystals with interlacing bands of ruby and emerald, golden-red sunstones, milky-white moonstones, great chunks of turquoise...
Merchants had vied to present him with gifts.
Myrish tapestries, screens from the Summer Isles, brocades from Norvos.
Diamond-studded harnesses, robes covered in pearls, gilded flower vases, enamel ornaments...
Countless rare treasures lay displayed before him, piled into mountains, glittering and shimmering.
As for gold coins, there had been more than the long tables could hold. They knocked against one another and poured over the edges like waterfalls.
They rang with clear chimes, cascades of golden light.
Hundreds of torches illuminated the banquet hall, and nobles and knights filled every bench.
Gold dishes and silver platters were stacked high, while roast boar, swans, peacocks, and venison weighed down the tables until they sagged slightly.
In gold and silver goblets, the spiced wine never ran dry!
The ladies' bright skirts bloomed like summer flowers, dazzling the eye.
Laughter and music filled the hall.
Baelon scooped up a handful of gold coins and let them stream through his fingers.
Beside him were his father Viserys, looking deeply pleased, and his sister Rhaenyra, applauding him with a beaming smile-ignoring, of course, the stony-faced Daemon.
Below the dais stood the nobles who had sworn him their allegiance.
A loving family, endless wealth, a throne that would surely be his one day, and the power of dragons.
Baelon had been an ordinary person in his previous life, not especially strong-willed, and his weaknesses had been tested from the moment he was born into this life.
He raised his golden cup, and everyone raised theirs to congratulate him.
In that instant, Baelon inevitably felt a little tipsy, as though drunk.
Everything really had gone his way.
Of all the gifts at that feast, those from House Lannister and House Tyrell had pleased him most.
House Lannister had sent an ornamental ceremonial ship.
Cast from forty-three pounds of gold, it was finely carved, its sails and rudder exquisitely crafted.
House Tyrell had been more direct.
They had presented five thousand gold dragons, along with five thousand Green Hand gold coins minted in various years.
Among them were Green Hand gold coins minted one year before the Conquest, which Baelon had spent years searching for.
Coins no longer minted!
Before Aegon the Conqueror united the Seven Kingdoms, each kingdom had minted its own currency.
The Stormlands' lightning-and-storm coins, the Westerlands' golden lion coins...
To Baelon, these gold coins, long since out of production and buried in the dust of history, were highly collectible.
Unfortunately, coins from one or two years before the Conquest were truly hard to find.
The Seven Kingdoms simply hadn't worked hard enough.
Sure, Aegon the Conqueror was coming to hack you down with three dragons, but that was no excuse to slack off and stop minting new coins!
The Green Hand was the sigil of House Gardener, the kings of the Reach a century earlier, whose entire bloodline had perished on the Field of Fire.
House Tyrell had served House Gardener for generations. The king of the Reach at the time-King Mern IX, if he remembered correctly-had even made Harlan Tyrell his steward.
But after the Field of Fire...
Harlen Tyrell had surrendered the castle without a fight and sworn fealty to Aegon the Conqueror.
In return, House Tyrell had inherited everything belonging to House Gardener: their castle, lands, and vassals.
Supposedly, that had included eight or nine million Green Hand gold coins in the castle!
Eight or nine million gold coins?!
Ah, Aegon the Conqueror had been far too generous.
Of course, there was also House Greyjoy of the Iron Islands.
They had successfully left a deep impression on Baelon by taking a different approach.
He couldn't remember exactly who had given him gifts, but he remembered perfectly well who hadn't.
Five years!
He had already celebrated five Name Days.
House Greyjoy had never sent him a single gift! They hadn't even presented gifts on Viserys I's Name Day!
Presenting gifts to the king at major feasts was the duty and obligation of every noble who held a fief.
The treasures themselves mattered little. What mattered was the nobles' attitude.
The Iron Throne only wanted a show of respect!
And House Greyjoy wouldn't even give it that!
In Baelon's view, they had grown very bold indeed.
After the presentation of gifts, everyone gathered to drink and celebrate.
The nobles took the opportunity to toast the king and converse with him, among them Lady Alicent Hightower.
Yes, Lady Hightower.
Viserys had not married Alicent Hightower as his queen, as he had in the original show.
He had not even taken a new queen yet.
Baelon had done nothing. Quite the opposite, he rather looked forward to having a few younger brothers and sisters.
There were quite a few riderless dragons in the Dragonpit. A few more siblings could ride dragons and accompany him on campaigns far and wide.
Under Westeros's inheritance rules, where the eldest son took all, his position as first in line appeared as solid as a mountain-and in truth, it really was unassailable.
Custom and ironclad rules both stood on his side.
He had no need to worry about a brother usurping his throne.
Baelon studied Alicent Hightower.
Dressed in green, Alicent Hightower was beautiful, speaking to Viserys with a gentle smile.
Baelon rather looked forward to meeting those younger brothers of his from the original story, who had brought about the calamity of the Dance of the Dragons alongside Rhaenyra.
Aegon, Aemond, Helaena, Daeron.
He truly hoped to have so many good younger brothers and sisters!
Bored while still in his cradle, Baelon had even chosen a new name for Aegon.
Aegon was a poor name, one that would stir up all sorts of trouble over things from the past. Better to change it to Aemon.
Aemon meant "beloved."
More importantly, the previous pair of brothers named Baelon and Aemon had gotten along very well.
Unfortunately, poor little Aegon... no, little Aemon, was still nowhere to be seen.
After he turned three, his health had gradually improved, and through diligent study and hard training, he had acquired martial skills that, while unremarkable, would at least not disgrace him.
Even the Small Council no longer urged Viserys so frequently to take a new queen.
A queen had two major functions: bearing a male heir and securing a diplomatic marriage alliance.
Queen Aemma had already left behind a healthy male heir, and Baelon's betrothal united the Targaryens and House Velaryon, making royal power stronger than ever.
Viserys faced no practical pressure to remarry.
Suddenly.
Alicent said something, and Viserys burst into hearty laughter.
Baelon raised an eyebrow. It seemed that, despite the lack of practical pressure, remarriage was still possible if the king himself wished it.
Drawn by the sound, Rhaenyra went over curiously and affectionately linked her arm through Alicent's.
Baelon slowly swept his gaze across the banquet hall.
Not far away, Daemon sat with his head lowered, drinking morosely, occasionally glancing at Viserys and sneering at Otto;
In a corner, Ser Criston Cole's gaze was fixed on Rhaenyra.
How very interesting.
Baelon leaned back in his chair, leisurely toying with a gold coin.
He had said it before: he liked banquets.
It was also at that banquet that he first met Ser Samwell Swan.
A towering, six-foot-seven young knight with a powerful build.
He sat alone in a corner, his head bent as he quietly ate the food before him.
But a little Mountain amid the crowd truly stood head and shoulders above everyone else. It was hard not to notice him.
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