Son of Oberon and Clarissa
Then came a fiery bearded, flame-crowned man, dressed all in red and orange, mainly of silk stuff, and he held a sword in his right hand and a glass of wine in his left, and the devil himself danced behind his eyes, as blue as Flora's, or Eric's. His chin was slight, but the beard covered it. His sword was inlaid with an elaborate filigree of a golden color. He wore two huge rings on his right hand and one on his left: an emerald, a ruby, and a sapphire, respectively.
Bleys is the middle child of Oberon and the hotheaded sorceress Clarissa. He is exuberant, valiant, courageous, brilliant, magnanimous... everything but chivalrous, and woe betide the one who assumes that he is that as well. It is easy to forget, mind. But it can also be deadly. He and Corwin fought their way farther into Amber than anyone ever had before, and it was Bleys' tactics that were largely responsible. Nor does Bleys allow pride to come in his way: when defeated, he retreated to Shadow and began to amass another army there. This time, to defend Amber, not to attack her. And though his services are unreliable and his days spent in large part in Shadow or Chaos, Bleys has not betrayed King Random.
Then again, Bleys is perhaps a little over-fond of dramatic timing. It's entirely possible he's merely waiting for the right moment.
With Brand's death, Bleys has sobered some little, too; his bond with Fiona is even closer than it had been before. To disappoint the rumormongers, there is not so much as a hint of impropriety about it, unlike Corwin and Deirdre's strained friendship. King Random has even been said to have considered appointing Bleys as his permanent ambassador to Chaos; however, Bleys hasn't sobered quite that much, and King Random appears to be waiting or searching for a more dependable, less excitable candidate.
In the mythology surrounding the royals' Trumps and the Tarot in Amber, Bleys is frequently depicted as the Chariot: singing or laughing aloud as two stallions, one black and one white, plunge ahead at an uncontrolled gallop.
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The quote above is from Nine Princes in Amber, by Roger Zelazny.