Chapter Text
Baelor breathed a bit easier as they dismounted in front of the gates to the Red Keep.
The Maesters had recommended that he travel in one of the carriages to King's Landing, but Baelor had refused to even consider it. He was not so badly hurt that he would take another’s place of rest during their journey. Baelor was mostly suffering from a small collection of bumps and bruises, aside from the pain in his back where Maekar had gotten him with his mace.
Just a little bit higher and it would have been a head wound – Valarr's helm would likely not have been able to protect him from the attack entirely. Fortunately, fear for his son had clouded Maekar's mind enough to affect his aim. The altercation between Aerion and Ser Duncan had not made a kinslayer out of Maekar.
As the hedge knight crossed Baelor's mind, his eyes involuntarily sought the man out in the crowd of their caravan arriving at the Red Keep.
Ser Duncan had dismounted by now, though he had kept close to his horse and was looking around with some trepidation. Beside him, Aegon was chattering excitedly – Baelor's nephew was gesturing at the Keep as he talked, perhaps having taken note of his friend’s discomfort.
At least the boy seemed to find some joy in introducing Ser Duncan to the Keep. If it had been up to Baelor, the two of them would already be off on the road. Traveling through all the Kingdoms, getting into all sorts of adventures – teaching Aegon something of the real world, of real people. An experience Baelor himself wished he had gotten as a young boy.
But even if he hadn't been his father's heir, their position at Court had been far too precarious then to allow for any of them to take off into the wilderness. Daemon and those who would rather Aegon IV named the bastard boy heir instead of Baelor's father would have surely used the opportunity to spread further rumours about their family. As if the vile accusations made against Naerys and Aemon hadn't been enough. As if Baelor and his brothers could not hear the whispers about a line tainted by cuckolding, and sullied with Dornish blood. No, there was little doubt that Daemon and Bittersteel would have delighted in such an opportunity to push Blackfyre ambitions.
But King Daeron’s reign was one of mostly peace after the Redgrass Field. And Aegon would not sit the Throne, the Seven be merciful, so there was little standing in his way to freedom once Baelor had managed to convince Maekar of letting Aegon and Ser Duncan roam about.
However, their plans of departure had changed after letters from King’s Landing had arrived at Ashford Meadow.
The King had received word of the Trial and Baelor's near brush with death, and had commanded all of them return home so that he may get the full story. Apparently their father had then decided to turn the occasion into a family reunion and had invited their other siblings, along with their respective families.
Baelor did not mind the idea – he was in no hurry to return to Dragonstone, and would be glad for the chance to see the rest of their family. But it had meant that Aegon would be required to attend as well, and so Ser Duncan had been invited along. Given the vow he had made to Baelor – for all that it had been made in the aftermath of the battle when none were thinking clearly – it had not been so odd to anyone else that he would bring the knight with him. Still, Baelor knew how great an imposition it must be, even for a hedge knight, to be dragged along on the whims of royalty.
He did not plan on holding the young knight to his word – undoubtedly Ser Duncan would try and keep his vow, in spite of the many injuries he had had at the time. But Baelor did not like the thought of the honourable man being bound to him by impulsive words said in what must have been near delirium.
He would let the man go.
It was a decision that made Baelor's chest tighten oddly whenever he thought of it, but he forced himself to ignore the sensation. It was the right thing for both Ser Duncan and little Aegon. Baelor's own feelings had no place in it.
"I imagine you participated in this Trial purely for just and honourable reasons and not, in fact, out of appreciation of how significant to history an event it was, did you not?"
"Aerys!"
Baelor turned to greet his brother.
"Yes, yes, I am also glad to see you – but the Trial of Seven –"
"–was only invoked among those of note one other time since the Conquest, against King Maegor. I know."
"But it does have a long history in Andal tradition – while it has its origin in the Faith of the Seven, its survival and subsequent popularity among the Andals was not merely due to the influence of the Faith. In fact -"
Baelor smiled as Aerys listed all the information one could possibly find on the Trial of Seven in books throughout the Seven Kingdoms.
While he did his best to pay attention, his eyes drifted once again to the sweet hedge knight. Daeron had now found his way to Aegon and appeared to be interrupting the child’s explanations with the occasional comment. Poor Ser Duncan looked increasingly more overwhelmed and uncomfortable.
"This is the hedge knight, then?"
Aerys had evidently noticed Baelor's distraction. His pale lilac eyes observed Ser Duncan with interest, interest that seemed to sharpen as he looked back at Baelor.
"He really is tall. And here I thought surely the sobriquet and the letters had to be exaggerating. What a fine specimen of a man."
"Do not speak about him like that", Baelor reprimanded him.
Hearing Ser Duncan being discussed akin to some well bred horse did not sit right with him.
The man might have felt guilty about Baelor's injuries in the aftermath of the fight – and had spoken of such to Baelor, despite the far greater severity of his own wounds – but Baelor had chosen to fight on Ser Duncan's side because the young knight truly appeared to embody the virtues that a knight was supposed to uphold. The rarest of things, a true knight. Baelor wanted to spoil him, to put him in fine clothing and give him the best chambers, with a feast for every meal. He wanted to bring Duncan before the knights of the Realm and tell them – This is the ideal you have sworn yourself to. This is one who might declare himself to be a knight of his vows before the Seven themselves. A man such as Ser Duncan deserved all that Baelor could grant him.
Aerys tilted his head at him. There was something familiar flickering in his most knowledgeable brother’s eyes – the look Aerys would get whenever he was presented with a new and fascinating bit of lore he had not before encountered in one of his prized books.
"All those muscles, too", Aerys added, considering. "And he is very pretty, in a sort of green way. Like some shy farmer's boy."
Something in Baelor ripped free with a snap, roaring in fury as it only rarely did.
"Leave it, I said!", he snarled, loud enough for the crowds surrounding them to shoot them curious glances.
The anger inside of him was not entirely unfamiliar – though mostly of a calm and patient disposition, Baelor carried the same fire in him as most Targaryens did. But he was not accustomed to letting it control his actions in such a way.
It was Maekar who often struggled to contain his fury. Baelor usually was the one to calm him as he was closest to Maekar and had an easier time than most in getting through to him. Though it often made Maekar seem intimidating and difficult to handle, Baelor knew that his brother was at heart a good man who cared about his family deeply and loved wholeheartedly. A man whose anger often took over his tongue but never his mind or his heart.
It was quite disconcerting for Baelor to find himself losing control, however. Unlike Maekar, he had little experience with such a situation. And he could not tell where this sudden anger had come from, either.
It was not as though Aerys could have truly meant to imply any sort of inappropriate intent towards the hedge knight. Not Aerys. In another man, perhaps it would give one cause to believe his lack of interest in Aelinor could have come about due to her gender. But anyone who knew Aerys would also know that he simply did not look at anyone the way he looked at a book. Instead of his impressive height, Ser Duncan would require a body fashioned of parchment and ink to hold Aerys’ interest.
So why would he say such things? And, more importantly, why in the Seven Hells had Baelor taken such great offense to them?
But Aerys did not seem surprised. In fact, he looked almost pleased with Baelor's uncharacteristic outburst.
"I’ll back off!", he chuckled, his hands held up. "He is all yours, brother, do not worry."
Baelor frowned, but Aerys merely clapped him on the back – though mindful of his injury – before he wandered off. In search of where he had put his book, most likely.
"Uncle!"
Aegon was waving him over and Baelor walked over to the three of them. He could try to make sense of the odd conversation at a later time.
It took a while to give his full report to the King and Uncle Brynden, but when Baelor finally left his father's study he found Aegon and Ser Duncan still waiting for him. His nephew was deep in conversation with the hedge knight, his little face somewhat smug as he spoke.
Aegon fell silent upon his approach. They both turned to look at Baelor. Warmth spread through his chest as Ser Duncan’s kind blue eyes made contact with his own. For a moment, Baelor wanted to stay still beneath the hedge knight’s gaze and just let him stare.
"Are we going to see Grandmother next?"
Aegon’s voice ripped him out of such foolish flights of fancy.
"If you wish to come along with me", Baelor nodded. "She should be in the solar."
Aegon dragged Ser Duncan along with them, to the hedge knight’s protests.
"The Queen? Egg, I doubt Her Grace would want me intruding on her family -"
"Fret not, Ser", Baelor said, "my lady mother has indeed expressed interest in meeting you. You are, of course, welcome to get some rest instead of accompanying us now. But she will ask to see you eventually."
"You can meet her now! It's just Grandmother", Aegon argued.
The knight sighed but remained by their side as they made their way to the Queen's rooms.
There was already a small family gathering underway as they arrived. Aerys and Aelinor sat on a chaise longue together. Aerys was reading, and Aelinor had a parchment on her lap. From time to time Aerys would lean over and quietly point out some passage in his book to his wife, and Aelinor would make a note on the parchment. Rhaegel sat on a chair close to their mother, with the twins playing at his feet. Baelor's mother rose as their small group entered.
"Baelor!", she came up to him and embraced him. "Fighting in a trial with your son's armour? Truly?"
"I did not expect to participate in battle during the Tourney", Baelor said, feeling slightly defensive. "But it was the right thing to do."
"Uncle was great!", Aegon interrupted, letting himself be hugged next. "Ser Duncan only needed one more man, but no one else wanted to fight for him until Uncle rode in and said he would fight for Ser Duncan's side! And Ser Duncan was only trying to help!"
Queen Myriah finally turned her attention onto the hedge knight. The poor man had been quietly attempting to melt into the background behind them, a difficult task at his height. Baelor almost felt sorry for encouraging Ser Duncan to come along as his mother's eyebrows rose.
"So you are the mysterious knight who has caused such uproar among half of my family."
"Baelor's knight!", Rhaegel called out in the background, clapping his hands in delight.
"Yes, dear brother", Aerys said with an odd smirk. "You are absolutely correct."
"Your Grace, I –", Ser Duncan's face was bright red. "Forgive me, I did not mean – I only wanted to stop Aerion – Prince Aerion from harming the puppeteer girl –"
"For her favour, then? You wanted a beautiful girl in your debt?", Queen Myriah asked sharply.
"I called for his aid!", Aegon protested, but was ignored.
"No! No, I didn't – well, Tanselle is really pretty –", Baelor's heart sank at the words – "but I didn't do it so she'd owe me, it was the right thing to do. Your Grace."
Ser Duncan hastily added the title after a short pause, his face getting impossibly redder.
Baelor's mother continued to scrutinise him with calculating dark eyes.
"And then you swore yourself to my son."
"He saved my life", Ser Duncan said, those huge blue eyes glancing over at Baelor with a deep admiration that left him breathless in its sheer intensity.
"So you felt as though you owed him", Myriah’s eyes narrowed, "but the puppeteer does not owe you for saving her?"
"Mother . . .", Baelor began to try and intervene, but Myriah shot him a sharp glance.
"His Grace is a good man, I know he would not hold me to any debt, either", the hedge knight immediately defended him.
Baelor felt himself blush, and silently thanked his darker skin for hiding his reaction to the passionate words.
"The choice to swear myself to his service was mine, and mine alone", Ser Duncan continued fiercely, solemnly, "because he is a good, honourable man. When I asked for a true knight, he answered."
Queen Myriah glanced at Baelor. His mother's expression was filled with the same amusement that had seemed to grip Aerys earlier.
Baelor's ears burned.
"I like you", the Queen said, turning back to Ser Duncan. "You will be good for my family."
Aerys laughed and leaned over to Aelinor to whisper something in her ear that made his lady wife giggle.
"Now, Aegon, come and tell me of your own adventures during the tourney", Myriah turned back to her seat. "I understand you were the first to become acquainted with Ser Duncan –"
Baelor noticed the poor knight sway a bit after his mother had turned away. The man looked as if he had neither moved nor breathed the entire time.
"I will see Ser Duncan to his chambers", Baelor announced, grabbing the knight’s arm.
Aerys looked up from his book again to stare knowingly at the hand on Ser Duncan's arm. Next to the Queen and little Aegon, Aelor and Aelora shrieked with laughter at something Rhaegel had said to them.
Baelor resolved to pay them no mind as he guided the embarrassed knight out of the solar. But it was difficult to shake off the thought that there was something they all seemed to know about him, and the further, quieter thought that a part of Baelor knew very well what amused them all so greatly.