121 AC
The Tourney of Casterly Rock
Alex felt the sun waxing him with its blistering heat, the crowd roaring. "Is this how footballers feel?" Alex chuckled. Alex wasn't immune to getting dizzy from the attention, but he was great at hiding it, and his previous life of being continually at the service of others really helped him. That, and a customer screaming in his face about a missed package. "At least no delivery fuckups here," Alex was happy about that. Truly happy.
Turning his mind to the present, he was wearing a mix of lion pelts infused over half plate armour. His chest armour was the usual coat of arms of House Serret. A peafowl. He didn't understand why a peafowl, but they were littered around Silverhill, and they were funny and oddly majestic to see. Regal creatures. He respected the little buggers.
Around him, Alex was seeing banners and different colours. Alex always laughed whenever he saw how colourful these knights would get. Always surprised him, the depths of where they get their dye. As soon as Alex was two, he understood where he was and what world he was in. He thanked profusely that he had a system to back him up here.
Game of bloody thrones. Alex didn't read the books, or even watch the show, so he was practically a newborn in terms of lore and knowledge. But he had a very informative loud mouth colleague that would spoil him about it, and he didn't mind since he wasn't going to watch it. Alex took a certain pride in not watching what everybody else watched. What a silly attitude to have. Alex rued his choices.
He knew he wasn't in the main timeline when he remembered asking if Robert was king to his father. His father laughed in his face that he was a madman, and then forced him to go climbing for two nights. He was TWO!
His father never cared for his ramblings. His father only cared for strength, and a talking, walking toddler didn't seem to enter his periphery for weirdness. At least it meant that he could grow endlessly and people wouldn't care. His father weaned him from a wet nurse when he could and got him on mountain goat milk. If Alex died, then his father would say he was weak and deserved it. It was a very harsh time. If Alex wasn't a grown man in that mind, he would've broke as a child and became mad as his father.
Turning his mind to the present, Alex looked on the field of the melee with a devilish grin. If he wasn't in the main timeline, he'd have to figure it out as it goes. Alex was a go with the flow, smash heads, uplift people kind of guy. It was very cathartic to him.
Knights were all amongst each other. Alex made sure to separate himself fully from everybody. He wanted to announce himself here. He needed no help. "The old man better honour his word of spreading my pizza to this world," Alex laughed inside.
Alex made a pizza variant one day when he was craving pizza like a ravenous wolf. It was a simple affair. There was plenty of grain. He just needed to make a Neapolitan style oven, which he and Cad worked on in three days.
The villagers went into a frenzy when Alex invited them for a simple feast at his house. Alex had to build smaller chairs for the children. The feast spilled onto the road outside his house. Everybody asked about his pizza, and he simply showed how easy it was. Then it went viral. Every villager was making pizza when they could. Not all the time, just enough when they could.
Alex would hunt for the meat every day where he could and help ease food issues for the villagers, bringing Jaimie whenever he could. The little rascal was a great shot.
Cad wasn't taking part, as he wasn't of noble blood and wasn't knighted. Lord Serret pulled some favours for Alex but couldn't with Cad until Cad became a knight, which was very soon.
Alex watched as the horns were blaring and people were being announced until one name drew upheaval from the crowd.
"Ser Criston Cole of the Kingsguard!" the herald belted.
"Don't know the guy, but must be good," Alex mused to himself. Alex saw a big fucker though, and his mind went from the Kingsguard to this huge man. Not as huge as Alex, but big enough.
"Lord Borros Baratheon, heir to Storm's End and the paramountcy of the Stormlands!" the herald announced.
The crowd wasn't as loud as they were for Cole, but they were loud enough. Then it went on for ages as every knight did a pomp and a show. God, he hated their contempt and arrogance at everything.
Alex had his name mentioned already, and it wasn't loud, but it wasn't quiet. Word had spread about his lion slaying, and many smallfolk cared for the gentle giant. It was only the lords and knights that didn't care. They simply didn't listen to their smallfolk, so when word came about a lion slayer, they chided and laughed down at the smallfolk.
Oh, how that was about to change.
It was nearly time. Alex had made himself a peafowl helmet. It was stunning. He spent quite some time in the smithy forging it. "Fucking blacksmith wonderkid, or wonderman," Alex chuckled.
Alex was ready as the horns blasted. Alex could already see no fucker wanted anything to do with his towering presence. Alex didn't want to go all out from the get go. If he did, where would be the fun? So he made sure not to run like a coked out super soldier.
He was going to run like a normal man, and maybe, just maybe, his strength would be outrageous.
Five brave knights came his way. Reyne fuckers. They hated Lord Serret for his treating of the smallfolk, as many smallfolk would try to leave for Serret lands, but they couldn't do anything. So in their mind, Alex thought they wanted to hurt anyone bearing the peafowl name.
Alex was smiling like mad. He slid his sword into its sheath and got into a kickboxing stance. He then did a gesture just like all his action heroes from the movies would do. A simple come here, with his fingers wagging.
The knights looked puzzled, but their blunted swords would come anyway. One charged. Alex felt like he was waiting for an eternity. Then it came. He simply side swiped and threw a simple right hand punch. It caved the helmet in while also sending the knight crashing into the melee barricades. The crowd roared.
Alex laughed. The other knights looked nervous but still pushed on, all their swords hacking at Alex. Alex simply danced around them. The crowd roared again.
Alex broke one sword with a headbutt and another with a swivel kick. It was piss easy. But he was enjoying it, even if he was holding himself back.
They all then tried to tackle him. He leapt like a fucking Jedi. The crowd roared again. Alex was wide eyed at how much the crowd was enjoying this. Every time he'd play to the theatrics, they would go batshit.
"Well, might as well give em a show!" Alex smiled internally.
He then toyed with the knights, all of them sweating heavily and feeling red with rage at the humiliation. Alex wanted to do this. These knights wouldn't become enemies that served poison to him in his food. They have too much jumped up honour and pride for that. No, these enemies would try to challenge him once again in a duel or a spar in which they would ask for live steel, to which Alex would show no mercy.
After playing with his food like a cat, he then just broke the knights completely, snapping arms, caving in breastplates, and throwing men unconscious. They all yielded.
He had a new target. That Criston Cole. It wasn't hard to find him. The man was defeating others in heaps. Just how good was he?
Just before he could act, Borros Baratheon emerged upon him. Alex side stepped all his attacks from that warhammer. Borros was puzzled, as if finding a foe he didn't think he would.
"Bahahaha! Dancing man, stand and fight!" Borros roared.
Alex didn't look amused. He didn't want dancing man as a nickname, so he obliged.
Borros didn't know what hit him as he now looked up to the sky from a ditch several meters away. Alex looked at him with a grin as he came into view.
"How's the view, lad?" Alex laughed.
Alex looked on to see what Borros would do. Would he get angry? Would he feel slighted? Borros just simply laughed with a roar, and he yielded.
Alex, looking for his original prey, Cole, wasn't there anymore, and more knights seemed to be charging Alex. "God, this is going to be a long day," Alex gloomily thought.
Many hours passed, and in a melee like this, there were hundreds of knights, lords, and squires. Alex was tearing them all apart. The reason why it wasn't over from the beginning is because Alex resigned himself not to go all out. Alex, now sweating a teensy bit, looked over the unconscious foes below. Maesters all running between the melee, carrying the fallen bodies back to be treated.
Alex didn't have this much fun in ages. He now saw why these knights and lords fucking loved this kind of thing.
Now it was only two people. Cole and Alex. The crowd were murmuring. Alex expected it. Part of the gig.
Cole, with his white cloak fluttering in the wind, muddied now. Alex, sword in hand. Circling each other. "Play to the crowd, lad. Play to the crowd," Alex chuckled.
Cole swung low and fast. Any lesser man than Alex would've been flat on their back, but this was Alex. Alex took the hit and shrugged it off. Cole was puzzled. Alex smiled.
Cole swung again, hitting Alex in the chest in a wide slash, the sword bouncing off Alex. Cole was getting nervous now.
Alex, sensing his trepidation, took a few steps back, sheathed his sword once more, and then sprinted head on. Alex loved WWE in his previous life, and he just wanted to try out the infamous Sheamus kick. The Brogue Kick.
He made sure not to kill Cole, but by God did he knock his ass out. Cole was sent flying backwards, declared unconscious by the maesters. The crowd went ballistic.
People were genuinely losing their minds. Their screams and shouting worried Alex. "Is this how sports fanatics are?" Alex worried. The crowd singing his name. And then the words came. "The Bloody Fowl," from the crowd. Everybody screaming it.
"Bloody, eh? I don't mind it," Alex laughed. His hand went up in a fist, letting the ocean of cheers wash over him. He swore he saw Lord Serret booming with laughter.
He swore he saw something else though. A fairly beautiful woman surrounded by her silver haired children, looking on with eyes burning with curiosity, maybe even ambition. Alex dismissed it. His mind wandered to what he had to do next.
The damn joust.