Chapter Text
The earth smelled fresh of spring water and mud, from the recently rained sky, the aroma mingling in the air. The morning fog had dissipated, and the brightening sun had risen to shine through the clouds. It's soft rays beaming against the now dry land, the feeling warm against Dunk's skin as he walked passed the fields of tents and made his way towards the Ashford castle.
Duncan had just parted with Egg, both setting out on their own separate tasks. Egg to take the horses back to their camp, and himself, to find audience with the heir to the Iron throne. Although, Dunk has begun to doubt himself of both of those choices. Sending Egg away to care for horses that were really the only thing to Duncan's name, and seek a prince of the realm. A man that owed Duncan nothing and was surely unlikely to not just be unaware of who Ser Arlan is, but wouldn't bother with giving a hedge knight like him, a minute of his time. Then again, if the prince is as Ser Arlan always made him out to be, then Dunk was sure he would lend him his ear, even for but a moment.
If he somehow, manages to wriggle his way into the tournament, then Dunk had doubts of his squire. Not that the boy was not honest, or truthful, Egg had been faithful enough, however, he was, without a doubt, a truly terrible squire.
The boy was clueless with all things in the matter, from what Duncan could tell, his gathering skills lack much to be desired, Egg has had trouble dressing himself at times, let alone if he were to assist Dunk with his armor, if the time ever came, Dunk could also tell Egg has never shined a plate of metal in his short-life, let alone a knight's armor -not that Dunk had any armor to shine as of yet, but the thought remand the same, and to top it all off, he was quite brazen for a lowborn boy. Which Duncan knew was practically a prayer to the seven for trouble.
However, that was a problem to deal with when the time came. Even if the boy knows nothing, there was a time where he knew nothing as well. Just like Ser Arlan, he would take Egg in and teach him everything he was once clueless on. He may not have much, but he will protect Egg -as best as he can.
Duncan shook his head, he had to stay focus, he shifted his thoughts back to the more pressing matter he had to attend too, like how he, a hedge knight of mud, was meant to get an audience with one of the prince's of the realm.
The royal family had just arrived, signaled with a loud horn and a large entourage of knights and bannermen to announces their presences. Egg had seemed rather jittery at their arrival, which was why Duncan had allowed the boy to take the horses back to camp, but Duncan really couldn't blame him. The royal family exuded an aura that felt tense and intimidating. If Dunk was not desperate, then he would have been more than happy to stay clear of the house of the dragon.
A loud horn was blown again, cutting the thoughts in Dunk's mind. He finally made it towards the entrance of the fort, rushing towards the center of the town, stopping underneath a stone archway, being mindful to stay close to the walls, watching as a herald began to announce the arrival of-
"-Baelor Targaryen, firstborn son of King Daeron the Good, Prince of Dragonstone, Hand of the King, and heir to the Iron Throne!" A second horse arrived beside the prince, a man with a head of silver Targaryen hair, his eyes looked tired and his mouth pulled down in an annoyed sneer. "And his brother, Maekar!"
______
Perhaps sneaking into the castle was not the best plan he had made, in his defense, that very moment, was the moment he had realized, that he has never actually come up with a plan, not by himself at least. Ser Arlan always said that he should leave the thinking to men, and Duncan should focus on stopping rain from entering homes, as walls should. Dunk was more than sure the Ser meant that as a joke- most of the times at least.
So, Dunk was not at fault for his actions, and there really was no backing out now. Duncan focused his mind, doing what he did best and deciding to just let the entire decision play out, and then he would deal with the consequences when needed. He heard an entourage of footsteps, followed by voices speaking, the noise carried down the narrow halls of the castle, echoing. Dunk stepped closer towards an opened door. Dunk kept mind to stay out of sight and be as quiet as a man of his size permitted, spying into the chambers from an opening.
"The spring rains have swollen many streams. Perhaps the young princes have just been delayed?"
"Fuck me." Duncan did not recognize the deep voice that spoke, then again he did not know many- or any at that- nobles to say he was well versed with how anyone sounded. He leaned forward just the slightest bit to catch a glimpse of the prince with silver-white hair, and a matching beard, Maekar. The man's face was scrunched up in the same irritated look he had seen in front of the castle. " 'Delayed' They were not delayed."
"Do not cuss our gracious host." The brown haired Targaryen, Baelor, the king's heir spoke, his voice far more collected than his brothers', and he did not seem to bothered with the whole ordeal.
"I said 'fuck me', not 'fuck him'. It's not his fault Father bade us attend this miserable circus."
"Might we discuss this another time?"
"I say we go hunting." Maekar replied.
"Daeron has done this before." Baelor looked back towards his brother, who had walked out of the small range of Dunk's sight. "You should not have commanded him to enter the lists."
"Shhh!" Duncan's heart rang in his ear, fearing he had been caught by one of the castle's many staff. He quickly turned around, noticing the little girl. Dunk recognized the girl, she had been the one who once stood in front of the gates with Lord Ashford to greet their royal highnesses, Lady Gwin, if Dunk recalled correctly. "The prince's sons are missing."
"Oh."
"Probably dead." The little girl spoke so casually that Dunk had to ensure that he had not misheard her.
"Dead?"
"Wars have started for less." She shrugged, walking forward and craning her neck upwards. "You’re big and stupid."
Dunk flinched back as the girl brought her hands up, suddenly flicking her fingers towards his face. Dunk watched, bewildered, as the little girl skittered down the hall, her feet light as to not draw attention, which he was grateful for. Duncan turned back around, his attention focusing on the princes' conversation.
"-bring me Prince Aerion then. Daeron might have uttered drunken words to his brother about where he intends to seek refuge until the end of the tourney." Maekar spoke, his voice directed to one of the men who had most likely arrived with them from King's Landing. The man's gaze found the floor, his hands finding his back, whether it was to show formality to the prince or to hide the nervous shake in his hand, Duncan could not really tell.
"Your highness..." the man trailed off, and Maekar picked up on it, stepping closer towards the man, and in the line of Duncan's sight, he took note of the annoyed look that now sat upon the prince's face. "The young prince had not joined the second entourage, Your Grace."
" 'He had not joined the second entourage.' " Maekar huffed a humorless laugh, his mouth turned up into a bitter sneer as he practically spit out. "Then where the fuck is he?"
The man hesitated for a moment, sweat collecting at his brow as he debated between himself if it were really worth concealing the young prince's intentions. The man sighed and looked to the side. "The young prince had stated that he would opt to dragon-back, your Grace."
"Dragon-back?" Maekar shook his head, his face pulled into one of pure unbelieving hysteria as he looked towards his brother, who seemed to be already preparing to calm him down. "Fucking Dragon-back!"
"Now, brother, calm yourself." Baelor urged, his face turning slightly stern at the raised voice.
"I explicitly told him no dragons!" Maekar hissed, a hand raising to pinch at the bridge of his nose as he continued. "Had I not been clear with my wishes?!"
"I hold no doubts that you spoke with Aerion plainly, however, the boy is rather attached to his dragon." His brother countered, wiping his hands with the cloth that the handmaid had supplied him with.
"For fuck's sake! I know what my son's quirks are, but that does not give him a latitude to go against a direct order!" Maekar bellowed, his hand dropping to sit at his side, curled in fists.
"You are well acquainted with his ways Maekar, I am sure you were aware that my nephew would preform such a stunt." Baelor reasoned, his voice still as steady as before.
Maekar let out a breath, lips parting, clearly preparing to retort but before the prince uttered a word, he cut himself off. He stepped forward, his eyes glued to the wall, and Dunk had just noticed he was staring directly at him.
"You." Maekar called out, voice still laced with fury, Dunk tucked into himself, bringing his legs as close as they would allow with his hulking form, as if trying to shrink himself. He prayed that Maekar was not speaking to him-
"Who are you? What do you mean by spying on us?" Maekar stepped towards him, and if it were not obvious before, it was blatant now that the prince was speaking to him. "Show yourself."
Duncan composed himself, pushing the nauseous feeling that had risen, down, wiping his wettened palms on the rough fabric of his trousers before stepping forward. His hand coming to rest on the hilt of his sword, out of base routineness, which he only realized by the tense look on the prince's face, was not a great idea. He dropped his hands to his sides as he spoke.
"My Lords, I do apologize for my interruption, I..." Dunk hesitated for a moment, his gaze fell to the hard floor as his mind ran, if all the other lords had refused him, turned him away without much of a thought, why would a royal prince be any different? When his eyes raised once more, he noticed all the stares on him. He knew his nervous form was blatant to the scrutinizing eyes, so, he made a split decision, his mind quieting as he stepped forward. "I have asked Ser Manfred Dondarrion to vouch for me so that I might enter the lists, but he has refused to do so."
"Who?" Maekar's voice soured as he turned towards his brother. "What the fuck is going on?"
Baelor raised his hand to calm his brother down, his eyes softening, his voice holding a calming trait as he spoke. "We are the intruders here brother. Come closer, Ser."
Duncan nodded his head, taking a few steps forward as he continued his retelling of his story. "And others too. You see, they say they know not Ser Arlan of Pennytree. But he served them. I swear it-" he moved his hands, touching the wood of his Knight's old shield and the metal of his sword. "-I have his sword, and his shield-"
Lord Ashford scoffed. "Sword and shield do not make a knight, mm? Unless you have better proof to support what you say. Some writing or-"
"Do you remember him, Your Grace?" Dunk asked, his tone desperate as he stared at Baelor, his eyes practically pleading. "It was many years ago, you may have forgotten."
"Ser Arlan of Pennytree." The prince turned his head, his eyes narrowed as if the memory had came back to him. "He never won a tourney that I know-" Baelor looked back towards Dunk. "But he never shamed himself, either."
Duncan's eyes widen, completely stunned as he spoke. "Yes, ser." He quickly shook his head, realizing his poor choice of words and stumbled to correct himself. "I- I mean, no-. No, he didn't."
"He overthrew Lord Stokeworth in the melee at King's Landing, and years before, he unhorsed the Grey Lion himself." Baelor added, the memory of the Knight reviving in his mind.
"He told me of that many a time."
"Then, you will recall the Grey Lion's true name." The prince stepped forward, his hands folded in front of him. "I have no doubt."
Duncan panicked, his mind racing to remember the name that his ser had repeated many a time, after many a time. His mind ran, suppling him with every name he had ever heard in his enter life, the treacherous thing. Dunk furrowed his brows, willing his mind to quiet and focus.
"Ser Damon Lannister. The Grey Lion, he's lord of Casterly Rock now."
"So he is." Baelor smiled at Duncan, who couldn't help but to return the gesture. "And enters the lists upon the morrow. I see no reason why you should not be allowed to join ser."
Duncan watched as Baelor rounded the long table, returning to his seat in the middle of the table. All Dunk could do was stare in astonishment. This man. A prince of the realms, the heir to the Iron throne itself, a member of royalty and entitlement, was the only one who helped Dunk. He had no reason to, he had no purpose to remember Ser Arlan, and yet, he had. It was at that very moment that Duncan understood why Ser Arlan had always said that Baelor Targaryen would be the best king the realm had seen since Jaehaerys I Targaryen, and Duncan couldn't have agreed more.
"Very well, ser. You are grateful. Now, fuck off!" Dunk's head snapped towards Maekar, who was slumped against a chair now, his words acidic as he practically simmered in his spot. Duncan nodded his head, turning around and walking towards the door before a voice stopped him.
"You must forgive my brother ser, he is simply worried. Two of his sons went astray on the way here and he fears for them." Dunk turned back around, shaking his head at the prince.
"Of course. I trust they will not be found dead." Maekar shifted in his seat, and Duncan could do nothing but grimace at his choice of words as the prince stared at him, clearly disbelieving of what he had just heard, the prince's eyes narrowed, now glinting with a protective gleam. Dunk bowed his head, turning around again to quickly make his leave, cursing himself for never thinking before speaking. Dunk the Lunk, thick as a castle wall, he was coming to believe those words just a bit more every day.
"Ser." Dunk stopped, his breath quickening just the slightest as he, once more, turned around. "You are not of Ser Arlan's blood?"
"No, I am not."
"By law, only a trueborn son is entitled to inherit a knight's arms. You must needs to find a new device, ser. A sigil of your own."
"I will." Duncan nodded his head, staring at Baelor for a moment longer before bowing his head again. "Thank you, your grace. I will fight bravely, you'll see."
Dunk quickly made his way to where he had came from, trying his best to will his heart to stop beating so quickly, the sound of it almost deafening in his ears. He was quick to step outside, the noon breeze wafted over his face, allowing him to finally take a breath. The smell of mud and dust filling his nostrils and lingering in his lungs.
He took a step forward, beginning a slow trek back towards his camp. The castle's solid walls felt suffocating, the nausea he had been pushing down that entire confrontation, had resurfaced, making Dunk's hand shake and his breath shallow. He stopped his movements, taking to steady himself against the entrance of the curtain walls. He willed his breath to even and shook his head before forcing himself to an upright position.
He was in. He had done it. He was to fight tomorrow at the jousting tourney as a knight. He couldn't help but smile to himself, if the ser could see him now he would have surely teased. He would have commented something along the lines of 'A log like you is better off fighting a bear than another man.' or perhaps he would say, 'You'll hurt yourself more thinking than fighting boy.' Dunk could practically hear the old man's voice in his head, his drunken breath still persistent in his nose.
The fictitious words rang through his mind and Dunk began to doubt himself. Jousting didn't require brains. At least Duncan didn't think it did, how could it? It was simple. As simple as mounting your stallion, steadying your lance, and holding your balance. Simple enough. Well, he could not very well quit-
"Dragon!"
A voice yelled from where Dunk had just been, somewhere still inside the castle courtyard, the word was slightly muffled yet it was clear enough. Duncan had but a moment to grasp at the word before a strong gust of wind tore through the town, the breeze pushing him slightly forward. The sky atop of him darkened as a loud screech cut through the noise of the bustling townsfolk.
The sound was unlike anything Duncan had ever heard, it's pitch was high, something that he could not describe even if his being depended on it. Not a second later, a low roar followed behind the ear piercing noise. His head shot up to the sky, the daylight flooding back on his form as the dragon passed overhead.
He caught the the large underbelly of the giant beast, it's wings enormous as it flapped them with ease. Dunk followed the Dragon's path with his eyes, watching as the dragon's form wrapped back around and descended upon an opening of grassy fields, just on at the edge of town. Duncan looked around, watching as several people left their duties and made their way towards where the dragon stood, and Dunk was quick to follow in tow.
They eventually made it towards the clearing, a small crowd had formed already, all staring in awe at the animal before them, and Duncan- well Duncan could not very well blame them. The Dragon was truly a sight to beheld. A massive beast that shook the very earth beneath it, it's frame so large that it blocks the sun from the eye's of onlookers.
The dragon's head hovered over everyone, the size of it enormous, easily that of a small house with two large horns encasing it. It's jaws were evenly large, enough to swallow a horse whole. It snarled at the growing crowd, showing off it's blade like teeth. Rows and rows of jagged spikes, each one sharper than the next, the splitting image of what Duncan can only image a Valyrian sword looks like. The large head was connected to a long snake-like neck that felt like it never ended, the neck had spikes scattered all along it. Dunk followed the extended appendage for what felt like an eternity before it finally gave way to a well-muscled and lean body. No less small than the rest of the beast, but much more expectant of a dragon.
It's wings were colossal, if it blocking out the sun with ease, was anything to go by. Even while folded, the beast's wings towered over everything else in the vicinity, higher than the walls of Ashford itself. The wings were adorned with a sharp talon on either side, that looked to be about the size of Dunk himself. The whole of the beast was drowned in rich blood red scales, that seem to darken at some points, turning to the color of cherries and dark red wine, and lighten in others, like the skin of a bright red apple.
Duncan’s eyes dropped to the large collar around the beast’s torso. A necklace of sorts that sat at the base of the neck and extended towards the beginning of the chest. The collar was made up of a black leather that resembled the color of charcoal. In the middle of the collar, where the neck met the torso, it held a sigil of the House Targaryen. The three-headed dragon imposing on the beast's chest.
The dragon lowered itself, and that was when Duncan noticed that the strap was no accessory but a saddle. The beast lowered it's body further, until it's chest was level with the ground, making visible the silhouette of a man. The man unclipped something around his hip, before swinging his legs over to one side of the saddle and sliding down the side of the beast's neck with practiced ease.
"The young prince had stated that he would opt to dragon-back."
The words came back to Duncan, one of prince Maekar's sons then, that explained the three-headed dragon sigil adorning the man's clothes. Before anyone could catch a glimpse of the young prince's face, guards swarmed the area, rushing in and surrounding the front of the crowd, creating a barrier between the townsfolk and the young prince.
"That will do! Back to work, the lot of you!" A man, one adorned in a white cloak and silver details, commanded, ushering the people away from the scene.
A few moments later, the crowd dissipated, all having finished marveling at the beast, taken their fill and set upon returning to their abandoned work. More kingsguard arrived, followed with a couple of Ashfordian workers. Dunk turned around, deciding that he should probably get back to their camp, less he drag unwanted attention upon himself. Besides, Duncan didn't think it wise to to leave Egg alone for too long, for he was sure the boy would get himself in some form of trouble. Him and that snake like tongue will surely become a problem for Dunk, he was sure of it.
As he took a few steps forward, he could hear the dragon behind him growl. Duncan kept to his own, his eyes focused forward, ignoring every horn in his mind that told him to turn around, and continued his tread back. Logically, he should have never turned his back on such a monster, however, he didn't have much of a choice. Besides, there wasn't much that could be done against such a force of nature, no matter what way he faced.
The red-beast snarled again, this time, however, it felt different, it sounded far more pointed. As if it sensed a threat and was warning whatever that it was not afraid of attacking. Duncan's muscles seized at the sound, locking within themselves and refusing to work, no matter how much he tried to force them too. He turned his head from side to side, taking view of his surroundings, noticing that there was no one else around but him.
Dunk's mind began to race, rushing through every single movement he had made since he stepped foot in front of the beast's sights. He thought of every look, every expression, even every breath that he took that might have agitated the dragon, but he couldn't think of any. Duncan focused his thoughts, willing his muscles to move just enough, so he could turn around.
The sight practically tore a relieved breath out of Dunk's lungs, his body relaxing on it's own as he watched the scene in front of him unfold. The dragon, thankfully, was not snarling at him, but rather at the kingsguard and workers that were standing close by it.
"Careful boys, he is rather protective of me, and he has yet to eat today." Duncan's head snapped towards the noise, the words rang in the air, light and menacing, the voice silky smooth to Dunk's ears.
The prince stood close, close enough that Duncan could see him clearly. He took in the prince's appearance that was adorned in a sinched black coat, the leather matching the one around the dragon's neck, a red velvet doublet peaking through the small space near the chest where the coat did not cover, and a long double-sided cloak dragging behind him, the outside that same black charcoal color, and the inside a velvety red, the color almost identical to the dragon's scales. The cloak was clipped from the front by a golden clasp with a three headed dragon.
The prince untied the string that held the hood of his cloak up right, before lowering it, releasing a head of silver-white hair. The color almost identical to his father's, Maekar. The hair was cut choppily, but deliberate and it bellowed in the light breeze. The man had a sharp jaw that looked to be chiseled from marble, with plush lips, and a nose that was sharp but curved upwards slightly towards the end. His skin was pale, a contradiction to the typical sun in King's Landing.
Duncan was astonished, this man, this prince, was beautiful. He hadn't known a man could look so pretty. It was the type of beauty that could rival even the most beautiful of women. He couldn't help but think that -although, the color of their hair was the same, that is all the prince has inherited from his father. Where his father stood taller than most men and leaned towards a larger scale, the prince was of a more average, even a bit shorter stature. He looked to be lean rather then large, and his edges -unlike his father's- were sharp as opposed to rough.
As if sensing someone had been staring at him, the prince turned his head, and Dunk-
Dunk felt the air tear from his lungs, leaving him breathless. Two sharp violet eyes, framed by dark eyebags and tired lines, stared at him. The gaze pinned him to his spot, heavy as a log made of steel. He could do nothing against the weighted stare but to hold the prince's gaze, meeting the intensity with weariness. The sapphire like eyes trailed down the entirety of his body before dragging back up Duncan's large frame slowly, plush lips parting.
"Boy, stop gaping and take me to my father." The words rolled off the prince's tongue easily, the sound just as smooth as before.
It took a moment before Dunk realized the words were addressed to him. He bowed his head slightly as he spoke. "I'm not a steward, m'lord."
"Not clever enough?" The response came almost instantly, and it left Duncan dumbfound, staring at the man in search of an answer. The young prince shook his head, before speaking once more. "Then see to it that they do not approach Caraxes without my presence."
"Oh, m'lord pardons. I'm no serving man, either." Duncan cracked a small smile before grabbing the hilt of his sword, resting a hand there. "I have the honor to be a knight."
"Oh. Well..." The prince tilted his head, eyebrows furrowed before licking the edge of his lips, Dunk's eyes shooting toward the action, following the expanses of the exposed tongue, before quickly returning his gaze towards those violet rhinestones. "Knighthood has fallen on sad days."
The young prince clicked his tongue, shaking his head before turning away from Dunk and walking away. He stared at the man's retreating figure, his cloak dragging behind him as he walked past the field of tents. Duncan followed the form with his eyes for a couple of moments, before it disappeared behind a larger tent. He felt the earther shake slightly, causing him to turn his head towards the dragon, who was turned around and was walking towards the forest. Dunk could not help but notice how similar this beast and the young prince looked like in that very moment.
Duncan shook his head, turning around, and beginning the tread back towards his own camp, clearing his mind of the prince's bitter words, not letting them taint his mind with any further doubt.
______
"You are no knight." The puppeteer spoke, her voice enchanting as she is pushed forward in her large costume, the man puppet held upwards, one of the puppeteers moving his head from behind and keeping the wooden body upright. The crowd exclaimed their excitement with a cacophony of different sounds as the woman continued. "You are Florian the Fool."
"I am, my lady." A gasp tore through the crowd at the confession, watching as the puppet's wooden gaze scanned over the crowd, pronouncing. "As great a fool as ever lived."
The crowd jeered as another knight -a man- bumped into the wooden puppet, causing it to tumble slightly, Duncan could hear the gasp that escaped Egg's lips and couldn't help but smile, happy with the knowledge that Egg was enjoying himself as much as Dunk was.
"And as great a knight as well!" The wooden knight straightened up, propped back up on it's wooden legs as the crowd rejoiced.
"A fool and a knight. I have never heard of such a thing." The woman handed the puppet a wooden hand, the outstretching to show off the imposing size of the custom.
"Sweet lady. All men are fools, and all men are knights… " The fool turned his head towards the crowd, his voice dropping into a mockery of a whisper. "…where women are concerned.
The crowd erupted into laughter and cheers, all clapping as the entertainers bowed their heads. Duncan smiled, looking down at Egg who had the widest grin his face could possibly muster, which widen his own smile just a bit.
Once the play had finished, and the puppeteers finished tidying themselves, Duncan approached the woman from the play, his posture ridged as he tried for a friendly smile, which he was sure came out as awkward.
"Hello there." Duncan greeted, before reaching for his waist, grabbing his coin pouch and pulling out two coins, placing them in the woman's hand. "And, uh, one for last night."
She chuckled, and Dunk couldn't help but reciprocate, their eyes glued to each other for a moment. Duncan broke the stare by looking away, allowing himself to take a deep breath in, and clear his throat.
"I’ve never seen such giant puppets. Do you make them yourself?" Egg's enthusiastic tone cut between them, causing them to look towards the boy, the woman smiling at him.
"My uncle builds them, but I paint." She answered, gesturing towards the puppets behind them.
"Could you paint something for me? Uh, I-I have the coin to pay. I, um… just…" Duncan chuckled nervously as he removed his shield from around his chest and held in front of the woman. "Um, I need to paint something over the chalice."
She mulled it over, taking in the faded colors and the chipped wood before questioning. "Well, what would you want?
"Um… I…" Dunk clicked his tongue, biting his lower lip slightly as he looked back at the shield, before sighing and shaking his head, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I don’t-I don’t actually know-" he chuckled awkwardly "-I, uh… Sorry, you must think me a fool."
"All men are fools, and all men are knights." She smiled, before clearing her throat and gesturing towards the shield. "The-the gray is a bit drab."
Duncan nodded his head, looking back at the shield. "Aye, um… Yeah, the-the field should be the color of sunset ’cause the old man always liked sunsets and, uh…"
"An elm tree." Egg supplied, his eyes searching for any disagreement from the taller man, once he found none, he continued. "A big one. Like the one by the river with the brown trunk and the green branches."
"Aye. An elm tree, that would serve. But with a shooting star above. Could you do that?" Duncan asked, his own eyes falling back onto the woman, who nodded her head and hummed.
"Mmhmm."
Dunk smiled, bowing his head slightly as he spoke. "Thank you, um, I’m-I’m Ser Duncan the Tall."
The woman chuckled, smiling before introducing herself. "Um, I’m Tanselle. The-the boys used to call me Tanselle Too-Tall."
"You’re not too tall." He chuckled, shaking his head nervously. "I mean, you’re just right for… Uh…"
"For?" Tanselle questioned, clearly amused of the stuttering mess that was Dunk. He tried to think of any answer but came up empty, opting to curse his bluntness for never thinking before speaking.
"Puppets!" Egg, thank the seven and bless his soul, intervened, smiling at her as Duncan nodded his head.
"Yeah, puppets."
They handed Tanselle the shield, Duncan, thanking her once again, before Egg dragged him away and they found seating at a tavern tent. He bought them two cups of the cheapest drink, and watched on as men set themselves up for another competition of tug-of-war.
"Why do you wish to paint over Ser Arlan's sigil anyway ser?" Egg questioned, his head tilting slightly as he brought the cup filled drink closer to his nose. The smell pulled a disgusted face from the boy as he placed it on spot next to him.
"Well, I ain't of ser Arlan's blood, and considering I have been permitted to join the lists-" Before Dunk could finish, Egg interrupted, his face lighting up.
"You have?!" The boy smiled brightly, his tone enthusiastic as he spoke. "That is wonderful ser! How did you do it?"
"I spoke with His Grace, Prince Baelor." Duncan tilted his head, taking a sip of his own drink as he shrugged his shoulders. "His Grace was the only one to remember Ser Arlan, and said he saw no point to deny me entering the lists. But he said I ought to have my own sigil, only blood are permitted to inherit a knight's sigil."
"Of course, that was very-" Egg cut himself off, his gaze dropping towards the muddy ground, causing Dunk to look over his shoulder to ensure the boy was alright. The boy shook his head before speaking once again. "-kind of him."
Dunk nodded his head, his own gaze falling towards his cup, staring as the yellow colored liquid sloshed against the sides of the cheap metal. "Ser Arlan always spoke of how great of a man Prince Bealor is, I hadn't really cared for those words until I had seen it myself, he is truly a good man."
Egg nodded his head as well, his eyes raising forward, towards the men struggling to pull the rope to their own side. "The realm has bright days ahead of it."
"Aye, it does." Dunk agreed, he couldn't think of someone more fit to sit on the Iron Throne other than his Grace. "I also met his brother, Prince Maekar."
Egg stopped for a moment, mulling over the words that Dunk had just spoken, before reaffirming. "Had you?"
"Aye. Though he seemed far more..." Dunk considered his words carefully for once, before deciding to speak truthfully. "agitable."
"The youngest prince's temper is no secret to the realm." Egg confirmed, his voice just the slightest tinge detached from the words uttered.
"I wouldn't say it was temper, although he does seem the type of man to have one. However, prince Baelor had explained to me that it was simple worry." Duncan looked around, making sure no one was prying into their conversation, before lowering his voice and adding. "His sons have not turned up on their scheduled time."
Egg's face tugged into a small smile, but he quickly hid it, his tone colored with sympathy. "How awful."
"We can pray they are found in health." Dunk nodded, oblivious to the boy's true mocking tone as he continued, his voice still a low whisper. "He had also been stressed about one of his sons disobeying an order. You see, prince Maekar had stated there'd be no dragon-back, and yet-"
"Yet, his son had went against his wishes and arrived on dragon-back." Egg finished, his manner unconcerned, even bordering on slightly irritated, which left Duncan completely baffled.
"A-aye, how did you know that?"
Egg leveled him an unimpressed look before speaking, his tone shaded with sarcasm. "I saw the dragon, ser. Everyone saw the dragon, ser." The boy clicked his tongue, and smiled slightly. "It was rather hard to miss the dragon...ser."
"Oh. I suppose so." Dunk nodded his head, looking towards the ground as the memory of the giant beast entered his mind. The way the beautiful young man effortlessly slid down the huge animal's neck, trusting the dragon not to move and injure him. The way the prince stood, straight and rigged, his form just as imposing as his dragon. "I'll never understand how those royals put so much faith in such unstable beasts. A stallion is easy, you feed it and care for it properly and it'll love ya' to the day the stranger takes ya'. But dragons?"
Egg hummed, tilting his head to the side, as if in thought, before shrugging his shoulders. "Well, it can not be that different, you feed the dragon, you care for the dragon properly, and then it will love you until the stranger takes you."
Duncan scoffed, bringing the cup closer to his mouth. "The dragon will feed on you if it hungers. A horse won't."
"I do not believe that true ser." Egg argued, his elbows resting on his knees as the skin where two eyebrows typically sat, furrowed, shaking his head in disagreement. "They are bound by blood, I believe the reason the royal family does not fear them is because they know their dragon would never harm them."
"Aye, I suppose you're right," He lowered his hand as he swallowed the drink, placing the cup on his thigh. "but what about another's dragon? What will a rider do then?"
"That is to be foreseen. However, there has not been a fight as such since the Dance of Dragons, and the Targaryens had seen that such conflicts could bring about the end of Dragons. Which is why most Targaryens avoid inner conflict, no matter how...large their egos are. Besides, as long as a well-minded Targaryen sits on the Iron Throne, hopefully, there will be no such battles for many years to come." Egg countered, his voice monotone, as if he were reciting text he had read a hundred times. His voice then switched, turning more curious. "Why do you ask anyway ser?"
Duncan took another sip of his drink, his eyes faced forward. "Ask of what?"
"Ask of dragons and the trust their riders hold."
"Oh." Duncan stopped for a moment, lowering his cup, resting it against his thigh again as he shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I had seen the rider of that dragon that flew in- ugh...what was his name? Carx....C-Cares...?"
"Caraxes." Egg corrected.
"Aye-," Duncan nodded his head. "-that's the name, Caraxes, I had seen him and his rider, the young prince, I hadn't caught the prince's name, but as I stated before, he's Prince Maekar's son-"
"Aerion." Egg supplied, his tone tight as his eyes stayed glued forward, his tone tense.
"Aerion." Duncan repeated the name, finding it rather fitting for the beautiful prince. The name sharp and commanding, just like the man himself seemed to be. "Well, I saw how the prince put so much faith in the beast, it left me wondering what kind of bond the two hold."
"Caraxes, is known to be aggressive and violent in nature, bonding to riders that are only madder than him, such as Aerion." Egg practically spit the words out, his voice full of resentment and disgust. "The prince and his dragon both feed off of each other's madness. They are insane bastards that would be better off dead."
Dunk was left speechless, gapping at the boy's brazenness. He lowered his own voice, head tilted towards Egg's, his eyes wide as he warned. "Careful boy, that's a member of the royal family you speak about, whether you like 'im or not, you never speak of them in such a manner. Your boldness will get you in some real trouble."
Egg rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders, his frame the very picture of indifference as he questioned. "What will they do ser?"
"'What will they do?'" He repeated, tone unbelieving as he placed his cup down and grabbed the boy's shoulders. "They'll have your tongue boy, or worse, they'll burn you with one of their dragons in front of all of King's Landing. That's what they'll do."
Egg nodded his head slowly and Dunk let go of him, picking his cup back up as his gaze returned to the competition in front of them. Egg dropped his tone, a whisper that only he could truly hear.
"I would like to see him try."