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“Aegon?”
Both Dunk and Egg froze at the sound of that voice, turning toward it only after a moment. Dunk stared at the hooded figure that stopped them, and even after the man pushed back his hood it took him a moment to connect the dots. He blamed the black hair.
“Aerion? What are you doing here?”
“Enjoying the pleasures this great city has to offer, Egg.” The prince scoffs, “what do you think? I’m going home.”
“Father sent you away-”
“What are you doing here? I am fairly sure father hasn’t sent you-”
“What happened to your hair?”
Aerion glared at his brother for the interruption, “there are smarter ways to be inconspicuous than shaving your head bald.”
“I told you, I don’t want to look like you.”
“Dressed like that there is no risk – are you still playing peasant, squiring for that great oaf?”
“Ser Duncan is worth ten of you.”
“You impudent little rat-”
“Insulting me won’t make you any better-”
“Egg. My prince. If you were aiming for inconspicuous perhaps the middle of the market isn’t the best place for such confrontation.”
Aerion looked about to retort, but then merely clicked his tongue and pointed his finger at him, “you are not entirely stupid then.” He said with a mocking smile, and Dunk immediately rethought his words.
It wouldn’t have been that bad to make a scene in the middle of the market. Stuff like that happened all the time. He could’ve punched Aerion and nobody would’ve known he just punched a prince of House Targaryen.
As soon as the thought formed in his head, he discarded it in favour of ushering Egg to a more secluded corner to avoid the aforementioned scene. Aerion followed them a few leisurely steps behind. “So, now that we established you’re not entirely stupid, let us see if you can be useful as well.” Aerion smiled pleasantly, and Dunk grabbed Egg’s arm before he could reach for the knife stashed in the pouch of Chestnut’s saddle.
“You are going to escort me to Dragonstone. My father will surely compensate you most generously for returning both his sons safely home.”
“I don’t want to return-”
“That, like you, is of no relevance at all.”
“Egg is my squire, Prince Maekar set him to follow me-”
“I can assure you my father has done no such thing. The little rat escaped again, hence the prince will be most pleased to see him returned – although I certainly would not weep if something unfortunate were to happen on the way home…”
Dunk was ready to retort, but his eyes fell on Egg who was looking too uncomfortable to be without guilt. “Oh gods, Egg. Tell me you didn’t run away, please.”
Egg remained silent, but looking between his squire’s downcast gaze and the prince’s cruel smirk he had his answer.
“So, do we have an agreement?”
“No!” Egg shouted and Dunk almost jumped for how loud the exclamation was. “Dunk – Ser, you accepted me as your squire, you cannot-”
“I thought your father sent you.”
“If my father was that begrudged with the situation, he would’ve sent men to fetch me already.”
“Perhaps he has-”
“Please Ser-”
“Shut up. Your voice is giving me a headache.” Aerion intervened and Egg glared at him.
Dunk knew he had to defuse the situation, “alright. Alright-”
“Great! I’ll take one of the horses.” Aerion said, clapping his hands with a satisfied smile.
“You have misunderstood, my prince.” Dunk hastily corrected, “I will not be escorting you to Dragonstone.” He squared his shoulders, “my squire and I must continue on our path.” Egg’s eyes lit up at his words and Dunk didn’t bother to hide the smile at Aerion’s thinly veiled outrage. It didn’t last long, however; the painfully fake smile was soon back on the prince’s face. “I’d say may the gods bless your journey, but I hope you both die in a ditch. A fitting end to your charade, wouldn’t you say, Egg?” With that he turned around and, pulling on his hood, he disappeared into the market crowd.
That night the warm summer air made them opt for the shade of a tree by the side of the road rather than looking for an inn. Dunk let Egg set up their little camp – if it could even be called that – as he tied the horses to the lower branches of the tree.
“I hope he dies in a ditch – it’s what he deserves.” Muttered Egg, as he chewed on a strip of salted beef.
“Egg.” Dunk said with a note of reprimand, “he’s your brother.”
“I hoped he’d die in the trial – why didn’t you kill him when you had the chance, Ser?”
“He yielded-”
“Because he’s a coward.” Egg scowled, “he should’ve died... I tried to kill him - when he was bedridden after the trial, but Father stopped me...” Egg kept his gaze fixed on the small fire in front of them.
Dunk’s eyes widened at that, “you really cannot go about calling others cowards and then admit to trying to kill a man in his sickbed, Egg.” He shook his head, “there is no honour in that as there is no honour in killing a man who surrenders.”
“He wouldn’t have returned the kindness, were he in your place, Ser.”
“If he had accepted my challenge in a regular trial by combat, he would’ve likely won fair and square. I won thanks to the help of the brave men who fought by my side and I defeated your brother by brute force once he was exhausted.”
“You were exhausted and wounded-”
“And twice his size. Your brother might be a vile man, but he’s a good fighter. If you want to be better than him, you ought to train a lot and avoid murdering people in their beds.”
“Hopefully bandits and thieves will do it for me. Aerion might be a well-trained fighter, but he’s alone out there – maybe he will never make it home.”
Dunk had his fair share of reasons to hate Aerion, but, even if he knew Egg’s hatred for his brother had deeper roots, his words still struck him as unnecessarily cruel. He remembered Daeron’s words about Aerion being once a glad child – not dissimilar to Egg, who Dunk found to be rather kind-hearted in most occasions. He couldn’t help but wonder if Aerion had started out like that too, with small outbursts of petty cruelty that with time grew with him to make him the monster he became.
He never had parents himself, growing up in Fleabottom with no meter of comparison he’d say prince Maekar was a rather caring father – if a bit stern. Certainly, someone who faced enough grief as it was because of his family. Dunk couldn’t help but think about the way he’d react if news of Aerion’s death were to reach him.
Aerion was anything but innocent and far from defenceless, so Dunk really oughtn’t feel any sort of responsibility towards him. So, he told himself he was doing it for Egg, who might learn that hatred is never a good advisor; and for Maekar, who shouldn’t be forced to face his son’s death, if Dunk could avoid it – he owes the man that much.
It was with those thoughts held firmly at the forefront of his mind, and the never-ending hope to be doing the right thing, that on the morrow he set out to find the prince – to Egg’s great dismay.
“I am telling you this is a terrible idea, Dunk.” Egg complained for the umpteenth time in the few hours they’ve been awake.
“Ser Duncan. I am the knight and you are the squire, which means I'm taking the decisions here and you follow my orders.”
“You are aware that will definitely not work with Aerion, right, Ser?”
“I don’t like that tone of yours. Do you want a clout on the ear?”
Egg fell silent at that, and while Dunk was certain he was trying his best, his glare was more endearing than frightening.
To Dunk’s surprise and relief, they needn’t travel far to find the wandering prince. He too was sitting by a tree, a blazing campfire – much bigger than necessary for one person – was crackling in front of him as he lazily turned a dagger over the flames, from which a piece of meat was dangling.
Aerion didn’t look up when they approached, so Dunk dismounted from Thunder and cleared his voice, “I will escort you to Dragonstone, if you behave yourself around me and your brother.” He had been repeating that sentence since they had set off that morning, but once he said those words out loud he realised they did not sound half as imposing as he had imagined.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said I will take you home, if you promise to behave-”
“I heard you the first time, you oaf. Speak to me like that again and I will have your tongue. I don’t need your help; I am perfectly capable of finding my way home on my own.”
“Dragonstone is that way, though.” Dunk said flatly, ignoring Aerion’s retort and pointing in the direction opposite to the one taken by the prince.
Aerion’s glare was icy despite the flames reflected in his eyes. He then made a show of plucking the now burnt meat from the scorching blade while still holding it over the fire.
“You ruined my meal – are you that hasty to lose a limb-”
He was interrupted by the sound of a branch snapping, which was the only warning they got before four hooded figures were upon them. Dunk immediately turned to shield Egg as he unsheathed his sword and felled the firs attacker with one heavy swing; but from behind him, he heard Egg scream when another man grabbed him to take him down from Chestnut’s back. Dunk panicked when a third man came to stand between him and his squire, engaging him in a fight that kept him from helping Egg. However, out of the corner of one's eye, he saw the point of a dagger pierce through the other attacker’s neck, who promptly let go of Egg in favour of holding his throat as he fell to the ground in a mess of blood and gurgling sounds. He had no time to stop to think and focused on the man in front of him – while never particularly fond of the notion of killing, he felt no regrets whatsoever when that man, too, fell under his blade.
He turned to face the last attacker, only to see him lying dead in a pool of blood at Aerion’s feet, who looked most distraught at the blood staining his sword and dagger. “Look at what you’ve done, now I have blood all over my weapons and no way to clean them properly. If you hadn’t sauntered here with your horses and your stupidly tall person, these idiots would’ve never-”
“You helped me.”
“Are you even listening to-”
“You helped me and you saved Egg.”
“I helped myself and made sure that a no name lowlife could not draw dragon blood – no matter how little of it that baldhead might have in him.” Aerion scoffed, looking terribly offended by Dunk’s words.
“You could have fled. You said it yourself: they were after the horses.”
“Fled? I'm not some sort of snivelling coward.” Aerion lifts his chin, “and as I said, I don’t need your help, if anything you need mine.” He sheathed his sword, “which is why I will allow you to accompany me to Dragonstone, and I will make sure no egg is broken along the way. I’ll be taking your horse.”
“He has a name, it’s Thunder. And you can’t ride him!” Egg protested from his spot on Chestnut’s back. Aerion merely quirked an eyebrow at his brother and Dunk stared, flabbergasted, as the prince unceremoniously approached Thunder, who, to his great dismay, nuzzled gladly the prince’s hand and allowed him to mount with no fuss.
“So, lead the way, Ser Duncan the Tall.”
Dunk’s feet hurt. He was not used to walk long distances anymore, but even if Egg was quite light, he, on the other hand, was quite heavy on his own, and he didn’t want to burden Chestnut with their combined weights.
In that moment he cursed his choice to leave Sweetfoot behind.
He had long tuned out the bickering of the two princes on horseback behind him, because Aerion may have been obnoxious, but Egg was doing his worst to be insufferable and rile up his brother.
“Hedge knight.” Aerion’s voice reached him, bringing his attention back to them, “I’m hungry.”
“My name is Duncan,” Dunk huffed, “there’s salted beef in the pouch behind you.”
“I am not eating salted beef.”
“Then you are not eating at all.” Egg sneered.
“Shut up or I’ll eat you.” Aerion snapped his teeth at his brother, and Dunk snorted, thinking he could use that one the next time Egg annoyed him.
“There should be a river not too far ahead, we can stop there and see if we can find something to eat.” He had little hope of finding any food, but truth be told, he just wanted to rest his feet.
The winding path did lead them to the river, which was further off than what he initially thought. They reached it in the late afternoon hours. The path continued over an old wooden bridge that led to the other side, where, after a small patch of trees, yet more low hills and green fields could be seen. The sun was still shining, but the light would soon begin to dim, which meant it’d be unwise to continue and risk spending the night in the middle of nowhere. At least here they had a couple of trees and fresh water.
“Tell me you’re not thinking of stopping here.”
“I am, my prince.” Dunk answered without turning to look at Aerion, “it’ll be dark soon. We better stop here, let the horses rest, and my feet, too, since you took my horse.”
“You seem so sure that I will let your impudence pass once we reach Dragonstone. As of now you should lose your tongue at least trice times over. Perhaps I’ll have your head directly and spare the effort of cutting your tongue in three pieces.”
“Your father has sent you away in hope you would change,” Dunk eyed the prince mounted on his horse, “maybe you’ll have a change of heart – it’s a week journey to Dragonstone after all.”
“Ah!” Aerion barked out a laugh, “you might be even more stupid than I initially thought.”
“I think,” Egg chimed in, “that threatening the one person who can assure your safe return home, is a rather stupid move.” He shrugged before clumsily climbing down from Chestnut and leading the horse towards the river so that she could drink. Dunk snorted at Egg’s thinly veiled mockery, glad not to be at the receiving end of it for once. Aerion glared at his brother but didn’t retort. He dismounted from Thunder and dropped the reins in his hands before heading in the direction of the trees. Dunk stared at the prince’s back as Aerion started gathering wood for the fire; Thunder neighed beside him. “You traitor,” He muttered, “letting him ride you as if you’ve always known each other.” He patted the horse’s neck, “he has your same bad temper, I give you that...” He threw one last look at Aerion, “but you’re prettier.” He whispered with a chuckle before leading him to stand next to Chestnut and leaving the reins to Egg.
Dunk removed his boots and carefully approached the shallow water near the bank; he let out a deep sigh as the cool water touched his aching feet. “Ser, do you think we can sleep? Now that he’s with us...”
“What? Afraid he’ll eat you for real?” Dunk chuckled before splashing his face with water.
“Wouldn’t put it past him.”
“You can sleep tight. I’ll make sure the dragon doesn’t eat you.” Dunk smiled but Egg’s expression remained sombre.
“Do you think he is, Ser? A dragon, I mean.”
“You are one too.” Dunk nudged him, but with Egg being so tiny he almost fell over into the water.
“I don’t feel like one.” Egg muttered once he regained his footing, “if I were to touch a blade left in the fire as he did, I’d burn my fingers.” Egg stared intensely at his hands, “he truly believes he’s a dragon trapped in human form – thinks he’s special because of it.” He kicked a small pebble into the river, “I hate him, but part of me almost wishes I knew what it feels like...”
Dunk felt a little helpless, he certainly wasn’t well versed with words. Ser Arlan had been no philosopher for sure, and this kid had probably received more education in his short life than him, so he truly had no idea how to broach such topics. Which was why he opted for simply what came to his mind. “Maybe he is,” he shrugged, “sounds terribly lonely, though.”
“Mmh.” Egg seemed to mull over his words, “do you think that’s why he’s mad?”
“I don’t think your brother is mad, just-”
“No, Ser.” Egg shook his head, “I can promise you he’s mad. It's the dreams. Daeron has them too – that’s why he drinks. Do you think it’ll happen to me too?”
“I don’t know Egg,” Dunk said, honestly. “Your family’s blood isn't like anything else; but you aren’t all the same – you said it yourself. For what is worth, I don’t think you’ll ever become like him.” Dunk reached out to pat Egg’s back, but stopped just in time to avoid having his arm speared through by a pointed wood stick that lodged between the smooth rocks of the riverbedbed, impaling a silver fish who wiggled helplessly for a moment before falling still.
Aerion stood behind them, a look of mild contempt on his face. “Are you done tattling like hags?” With that he leaned down to retrieve his prey – still impaled on the makeshift spear – from the river and walked back towards the fire he had started.
Aerion caught two more fishes, which Dunk gutted before placing them over the fire to roast, all the while resisting the urge to comment on his generosity, least the prince threw their dinner back into the river out of spite. They ate in relative silence, then Dunk offered to keep guard first, but Aerion shook his head, “I’ll do it – I don’t sleep much anyway.”
Egg needn’t be told twice and tucked himself under his thin mantle, using a root as makeshift pillow, leaving Dunk as a human shield between himself and his brother.
“You should rest, too, my prince.” Dunk said, keeping his voice low not to wake Egg.
“You walked the whole day because I took your horse and you’re telling me I should rest? Are you actually stupid or is this some sort of misguided form of chivalry?” Aerion scoffed as he scooted closer to the fire and began to play with the smaller pieces of ember, moving them around and jostling the flames. Dunk remained silent, staring at the prince as he handled burning coals as if they were river pebbles.
“You should hate me, Dunk. Not worry about my wellbeing.”
Dunk reeled back, the sound of his name coming from Aerion entirely unexpected. “Is that a piece advice, my prince?”
Aerion scoffed, “it’s a fact. That kindness of yours won’t get you anywhere.”
“Your uncle is not of that advice.”
“My uncle is a fool.”
“You think cruelty will get you where you want to be?”
“There is nowhere I want to be.”
The fire shifted between them, flames bending low as Aerion prodded the embers into new shapes. Dunk watched the glow paint his face in shades of gold and tried not to think about what that might mean.
One of the horses stamped somewhere behind them, the fire crackled, its light and warmth fighting off the night pressing closer. Aerion nudged a coal too hard; it split, flaring bright before settling again.
A spark leapt upward, carrying with it a thin ribbon of heat; both of them followed it with their eyes as it vanished into the dark above.
The sky was clear. Wide and black and crowded with stars.
Dunk leaned back on his elbows, stretching his long legs toward the warmth. After a moment, Aerion’s gaze drifted upward as well, his eyes fixed on the many bright lights flickering against the blackness of the sky. “You had a falling star on your shield,” he said suddenly, “why?”
“You noticed my shield?”
“Isn’t that the whole point of putting sigils on shields?”
“Uh. Yes. I saw a falling star the first night in Ashford, before the tourney. Egg told me they bring good luck, so I figured, why not have it on the shield? I needed all the help I could get...”
“Well, can’t say it didn’t work.” Muttered Aerion.
“Why do you ask, my prince?”
“Star don’t fall for men. Falling stars are harbingers – they follow comets, and comets mean one thing: dragons.” Aerion was staring intensely at the sky, as if to will the tailed red star to appear on the firmament.
Dunk turned on his side to look at him, weighing his next words with care. “Dragons are-”
“Gone.” Aerion interrupted him, “I know. But they will return. I dreamt it. Their blood is in our veins; House Targaryen cannot exist long without them. Men cannot fight the night without their fire – without dragons, the world will turn to ice...” There was a sadness laced in his voice that Dunk hadn’t heard before. He stared Aerion’s sombre expression, and, in that moment, he could admit the prince was a little prettier than his horse. That thought came to him as unexpected and shocking as a blow to the stomach, so he promptly shook it from his head.
“Fate must’ve dealt you a cruel hand, then.” He said, speaking without thinking, and then immediately bit his tongue, realizing too late how that must’ve sounded.
“Ah! That’s a harsh thing to hear, coming from a rat of Fleabottom.” Aerion’s voice was harsh, but it lacked its usual sneer.
“Forgive me, my prince. It was out of place.”
“Mh. Alright. We'll keep your tongue cutting to three pieces and not four.”
“Did you just jest with me?”
“I am most serious about the other three pieces, though.”
“As I said, the road to Dragonstone is long, my prince. I’m confident you’ll change your mind along the way.”
The following day greeted them with low clouds and grey light; the chill of the morning had long defeated the little heat provided by the dying embers and Dunk wrapped his mantle tighter around himself. Aerion complained plenty about the fire dying out and Dunk refrained from mentioning that he was supposed to keep watch and consequently look after the fire, instead of falling asleep. Egg was not as clement and scolded Aerion like one would chastise a child, which the other price did not appreciate one bit.
Dunk tuned out the bickering princes in favour of eyeing the decrepit-looking bridge warily, hoping beyond hope it would hold their weight long enough for them to cross safely. He was never much of a swimmer, and the currents in the middle of the river didn’t look particularly forgiving.
“We should cross on foot, I think it’s safer that way.” He suggested, looking back to find Aerion helping Egg on Chestnut despite their ongoing argument. Aerion stopped mid-action, looked at him, shrugged, and then let go of his brother without warning, letting Egg fall to the ground on his bum.
“You did that on purpose!” Protested Egg, as he got up massaging his back.
“Of course I did.”
To Dunk’s relief no further protests were made as they prepared to cross the bridge in line with Dunk at the front and the horses at the back. It all went surprisingly smoothly, and Dunk drew a deep sigh of relief once he set foot on solid ground.
Sadly, it was short lived.
“I left my dagger by the tree!” Egg cried out.
“Why did you take your dagger from the saddle? I told you were not to use it!”
“I-” Egg lowered his gaze, “I didn’t trust him...” He muttered, nodding in Aerion’s direction, who snorted.
“What, scared I'd kill you in your sleep?” He taunted and Dunk grimaced thinking of their history.
“Well, go get it then.” Continued Aerion, nodding in the direction of the trees.
“Stay here Egg, I will get it.”
“But Ser, I'm lighter than you-”
“I might not the sharpest tool in the box, but that much I know.” Dunk offered Egg what he hoped to be a reassuring smile. Then he looked, resigned, at the bridge, and crossed it holding his breath. He found Egg’s dagger tucked near a root and stashed it in his belt before turning to face the bridge again for – hopefully – the last time.
He crossed it twice. There is really no reason why it should collapse on the third.
But it does. Right in the middle of it – where the river is deeper and the currents stronger – the rotten wood gives in under Dunk’s weight leaving him to plunder into the freezing water below.
He remembered Ser Arlan saying something along the lines of: “if a knight n armour ends up in water, it means the gods want him dead.” As his explanation of why it was not worth to learn to swim. Dunk has learned the hard way that it was not always wise to take a drunk’s man words for doctrine.
He fought helplessly to remain afloat, but the current seemed to be tugging at his feet, dragging him underwater. Then something was tugging at his arm too, pulling him out of the water with great effort. To his utmost surprise it was prince Aerion, who was evidently struggling to keep both their heads above the rippling water while swimming towards the bank with Dunk’s weight on his back. He landed face first into the mud, coughing up water; while Aerion managed to drag himself out of the river with a bit more grace – but he was heaving for breath.
“Ser Duncan!” Egg cried reaching them in a rush, “are you alright, Ser?”
“I’m-” he coughed up more water, still. “I’m alright, Egg.” He reassured his squire, then looked up at where Aerion was standing, frowning down at his wet clothes.
“You saved me.”
“You are welcome.” Aerion scoffed as he pulled his soggy shirt over his head and tossed it over Thunder’s saddle. It was stained black with the dye that was running from his hair, which now were of a pale grey.
“You saved me.”
“It’s not like I could’ve let you drown.”
“Uh. Yes – I mean, I’m glad you didn’t!” Dunk added hastily, “but you could have.”
“What? I’m not-” Aerion stopped himself, frowned as if his own words were about to offend him, and shook his head. “Don’t look into it.” He removed his boots and turned them upside down and let the water trickle out “And don’t look at me like that.”
Dunk shook himself out of his stupor and immediately averted his gaze when he realised he had – indeed – been staring.
“Thank you, my prince.” Dunk said, pulling himself up from the ground, “I owe you my life.” Dunk looked earnestly at Aerion, who did not spare him a second glance. Then he remembered his face was covered in mud and, despite the circumstances, he figured it was still unbecoming to stand in front of a prince covered in grime.
He crouched to splash his face with water and felt Egg’s small hand grip his shoulder. He turned around smiling, “I won’t fall into the water again, worry not.” Then, in a whisper “did you ask him to save me?”
“What? No. He just jumped into the water – it was a good thing I hadn’t even had the chance to ask, otherwise he might’ve changed his mind just to spite me.” Egg huffed, eyeing his brother sideways.
Dunk chuckled, “he got us dinner and risked his life to save me,” he shrugged, “maybe we can give him a little credit.”
“Mmh.” Egg looked unconvinced and Dunk shoved him playfully, but then gasped when he saw him stumble and grabbed him before he could fall into the river. They looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“Hey, hedge knight.” Aerion’s voice cut in, laced with annoyance.
Oh, so he was back to hedge knight.
“Start a fire, will you? Or do I have to do everything myself?”
“At once, my prince.” Said Dunk, getting up and walking towards the trees to gather some wood.
Dunk found quite funny that they had moved but a few meters from their last camp before they were once again gathered around a fire – Aerion sitting with his back to it, so close that the flames were licking his skin, but leaving no sign of their passing.
Dunk sat a little to his left and at a safe distance from the fire as he tried to get some feeling back into his frozen fingers. He stared purposedly ahead, keeping his eyes fixed on the clouds or the flowers or Egg tending to the horses. Anything but Aerion.
“I know it’s not enough to repay you, my prince; but I swear to protect you and guide you safely to Dragonstone.” He meant it, even if he had not forgotten the cruelty the prince was capable of, he now couldn’t help but see him under a new light.
Aerion scoffed, “You mean starting from now? Because so far, I had to save you and my idiot brother from bandits and drag you out of a river.”
“In both occasions you could’ve just left me to my fate, but you didn’t - you chose to save me.”
“You really don’t know when you shut up, uh?”
“I am merely complimenting your good deeds, unless that counts as an insult for you...” Dunk shrugged, “since I’m already having my tongue cut in three pieces, I figured I might as well speak my mind.”
Aerion snorted at that and Dunk eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Did you just laugh?”
“Are you done asking stupid questions?” Aerion said, turning around and stretching his arms over the flames. He looked almost content, staring into the fire.
“How does it feel? Is it warm?”
“I take that as a no, then.” Aerion sighed, “yes, Dunk, the fire is warm.”
Dunk reeled back, not expecting Aerion to call him by his name again. He didn’t even think of correcting him like he dis with Egg whenever he forgot the title of ‘Ser’; nor felt the sting of embarrassment for prince’s the condescending tone.
“I know, my prince. I was just wondering if you could feel the warmth – since it does not burn you.”
“Mh. Yes, I can feel it – I like it. I'd sleep on burning coals if I could put something soft on them,” he let out a short laugh, “I tried once, when I was little. I dragged my beddings all the way across the room and over the fireplace.”
“And?”
“They caught fire – obviously. And, trying to put it off, I set fire to half of my room. My father was not particularly impressed. My uncle, on the other hand, thought the whole ordeal to be hilarious.” Aerion huffed, “but that is also how I found out fire didn’t burn me.”
“You tried to climb in the fireplace before knowing that?!”
“I was seven.” Muttered Aerion, defensively.
“Never thought to jump into a fire when I was seven.” Dunk chuckled and received a glare in return.
“You think I’m mad?”
“I-” Dunk was taken aback by the question in its earnestness, “no, my prince.” It was the truth; despite how Egg insisted on the contrary, he didn’t think Aerion was mad. He could see the madness that followed House Targaryen in him, as he had glimpsed it in Egg, too – but he did not think Aerion was already too far gone.
Aerion huffed out a soft laugh, “you’re just too kind to say it.” He picked up a fallen leaf and held it over the fire, watching as it blackened and turned to ash. “My whole family thinks I am. My father thinks I’m a liability; my uncle thinks I’m amusing because my father worries that I am liability – which makes me a sort of court jester in his eyes. My siblings avoid me when they can. Truth be told I’ve never given them a reason to think otherwise – I’ve been cruel with my brother,” he nodded in Egg’s direction, “I envied him because he always looked so… happy and carefree. I reckon I had been like that too for a little while, but – why am I telling you this?” He sounded annoyed, but for once Dunk had the feeling he was not the source of his souring mood.
“To convince yourself I’m lying, I suppose…” He offered, hoping not to further aggrieve the prince.
“You are either lying or stupid.”
“You did claim I’m quite stupid if I remember correctly.”
Aerion chuckled at that, and Dunk offered him a small smile.
“What if I told you I see things in the flames – hear them whisper. Would you still think I'm right in the head? My father thinks not.” The prince shook his head and Dunk looked between him and the fire.
“What are they saying?” Dunk asks, instead of answering the prince’s question.
Aerion studied him for a moment, as if trying to gauge whether Dunk was making fun of him or not. He eventually shrugged, seemingly convinced of his earnestness and turned back to stare at the fire before speaking. “Hard to say, most of the time is gibberish – I can catch a few words in High Valyrian at best. It gets easier to understand if you give them something, though.”
“Give them-?” Dunk stopped himself when he saw Aerion take out his dagger and press the blade to the tip of his finger before holding his hand over the flames to let his blood drip right into them.
The fire turned deep red for a moment, and Dunk did not bother to hide his gasp. He had been warned multiple times of the dangers of blood magic, but this close he couldn’t help but be fascinated.
“They speak of you, Ser Duncan.” Aerion said, his voice almost soft, “they say you belong to them – not to the water... We both belong to them.”
Dunk felt a shiver run down his spine, a foreboding sense of dread clawing at the base of his neck.
“Well, that’s... ominous.” Dunk forced a smile and Aerion looked at him entirely unimpressed.
“What did you expect? Greetings?”
“I don’t know, maybe they were saying I’m stupid as you claim I am.” Dunk huffed, trying to ease his own nerves.
Aerion snorted, “I don’t need blood magic to know that.” With that he pulled himself to his feet; Dunk almost gasped again when the prince used his shoulder for leverage as he got himself up from the ground. “Let’s move. I’m not sleeping on the ground another night.”
Dunk remained frozen, feeling the ghost of Aerion’s hand on his shoulder – perhaps because it had been scorching and the heat almost burned him, or because he never expected the prince to touch him so casually.
He snapped out of his reverie only when he heard Egg yelp and cry out. He turned around only to see Aerion throwing his brother unceremoniously on Thunder’s saddle and then climbing on the horse behind him. “I am not supposed to be on Thunder unless Ser Duncan tells me so.” Protested Egg, turning to glare at his brother.
“Want your friend to travel another day on foot?”
“It’s fine, Egg.” Dunk reassured him, fighting down a smile as he approached Chestnut, petting her neck before hoisting himself on her saddle. “But just for this time.” He added for good measure and pretended not to hear Aerion’s snort.
“You should be the one travelling on foot.” Egg griped, elbowing his brother in the stomach.
“Oi! Do that again and I’ll throw you off the horse – you’ll walk all the way to Dragonstone.”
Despite the various threats thrown between the two brothers, in Dunk’s opinion their current arrangement was quite the improvement compared to how they started their journey.
He just hoped Aerion’s patience wouldn’t run out before they reached their destination.
They happened by a small town – practically a village – by sundown of the following day. Said village had a very small, very run-down inn where they decided to stop for the night. The moment they sat down, the innkeeper, a huge man – even by Dunk’s standards – brought them tankards of mead and bowls of watery broth that sloshed over the edges and onto the table. Dunk had to bite his tongue not to laugh at Aerion’s expression.
Disgust didn’t even begin to cover it.
“Is there anything that doesn’t look like pond water and dead meat?”
“No.” Grunted the innkeeper without sparing the prince a second glance.
Dunk blood ran cold, he truly hoped he wouldn’t have to save the man from Aerion – he knew by experience the prince was more than capable to fight men twice his size.
But Aerion merely glared at the man, “at least he’s aware it’s shit.” He said, before pushing his bowl away in favour of the ale. He coughed after the first sip. “And this smells like piss.”
“I’m sure you’re used to finer tastes, my prince. But I can assure you that after days and days of eating salted beef, a bowl of broth is quite the meal.”
“That’s because you’ve probably never eaten proper food.”
“It’s better eating salted beef sitting under a tree than rare meat at a table with you.” Muttered Egg, then took a spoonful of broth. He pulled a face, “I hate to agree with you, but this truly tastes awful.”
“Don’t speak with your mouth full, it’s disgusting.” Said Aerion, completely ignoring his brother words. Dunk was extremely grateful that Aerion seemed mildly annoyed at best and never got actually angry despite Egg constant nagging. He really didn’t fancy having to step in.
Dunk’s hopes of everything running smoothly that day, however, evaporated once they entered the room where they would spend the night.
“Where are the beds?” Aerion asked, scanning the room without sparing the straw cot a second glance.
“I’m afraid these inns are not equipped with such commodities, my prince.” Said Dunk, pinching Egg’s shoulder to make him stop sniggering.
“What’s even the point of having a room if I have no bed and no fire?!” Aerion sounded genuinely confused and distraught, and Dunk really had to refrain from looking down at Egg, otherwise he would’ve burst out laughing too.
“Well, if it rains you have a roof over your head…”
“But it does not fuckin’ rain!”
“You’re the one who insisted we sleep in an inn tonight!”
“Forgive me for thinking that sleeping inside would be an improvement from the dirt under a bloody tree! I’m going to speak with the innkeeper.”
“No!” Dunk grabbed Aerion’s arm as he passed him, then dropped it as if it burned him. His fingers had closed around warm skin and solid muscle, and for half a heartbeat neither of them moved. He stared at the prince’s equally shocked face. “I mean-” he stammered, suddenly very aware of how close they were, “my prince, you should spare yourself the effort. I can…” He stopped himself before he could dig his grave any deeper.
Aerion’s gaze lingered on him for a moment – not unlike the first time they met each other – before he stepped away, clearly unimpressed. He didn’t dignify him with an answer before heading downstairs; Dunk closed his eyes and hoped beyond hope he wouldn’t hear screams coming from below.
“We should shut the door and leave him to sleep outside.” Suggested Egg, smiling up at him.
Dunk snorted, “we are not going to do such thing, Egg.”
“Why not? Do youperhaps like him, Ser?”
“I- wha- that’s not the point.” Dunk frowned, scrubbing a hand over his neck. “He’s a prince.” He looked down at his feet, more bothered than he cared to admit. It’s not like he was blind, and after his time in Ashford he had learned to be more honest with himself. “He saved my life. I’m not letting him sleep on the floor.” But it was not the time for honesty.
“He also almost killed you, Ser.” Egg shrugged, “and he will definitely make you sleep on the floor.”
“I think I can live with that, Egg.” Dunk offered him a small smile, but only received a disturbingly knowing look from his squire. Before he could tell Egg off, Aerion returned, looking utterly defeated. At least he wasn’t covered in blood, thought Dunk.
“He kindly told me that if I did not like the arrangements, I could try the stables.”
Dunk had to fight down a chuckle. “It was an ungracious response, but I am glad you avoided… bloodshed.”
“Killing him wouldn’t have given me a bed, and I would be covered in blood with nothing to wash myself.” Aerion glanced pointedly around the barren room. “You may imagine the inconvenience.”
Dunk looked helplessly at the prince, who just huffed and walked over to the cot, eyed it warily before sitting down on it with a grunt. Then looked up at him, and, for one terrible moment, Dunk thought Aerion might actually start crying.
The moment was luckily broken by Egg who shoved his brother aside, “If you hate it so much, you can sleep on the floor.” He said, clearly unfazed by Aerion’s distress.
“You, impudent little rat. Open your mouth again and you’ll be sleeping on the floor.”
Egg glared at his brother, “I’m not sleeping next to you.”
“Scared I’ll kill you in your sleep? I would’ve done it when you were younger.”
“Maybe I will kill you in your sleep-”
“Enough with the fratricide. I’ll sleep in the middle.” Dunk didn’t know where that came from, but it was too late to back up now. “I’m a light sleeper,” he continued in a serious tone, “so-”
“No, you’re not.” Egg unhelpfully pointed out.
Dunk glared at his squire, “you know what? You’re right. I will sleep and I will set off tomorrow with whomever survives the night or just with my horses.”
“Didn’t you swear just this morning to protect me and lead me safely home, Ser Duncan?” Aerion asked, feigning innocence. Dunk was still processing the fact that Aerion hadn’t even protested against the sleeping arrangements.
“Do you need protection from a small boy, my prince?” Dunk asked, taunting back.
“You forget yourself, Ser. I might still change my mind and not be as benevolent as stopping at three cuts of your tongue.”
“What is going on?” Asked Egg, looking suspiciously between them.
“Nothing, you twat.” Aerion grabbed his brother by the face and shoved him down, making him fall on the other side of the cot. “I’m tired, I’m going to sleep.” Announced Aerion then, as if talking to court. Then he turned to Dunk, “touch me – or even worse – wake me, and I’ll have to add more limbs to the cutting list.” Despite the threat there was a faint smile on his lips and Dunk huffed out a laugh, “you won’t even notice I’m there, my prince.”
Dunk woke up on his back with Aerion’s head on his shoulder, his arm thrown over his stomach. For a long moment he did not move.
He did not breathe; he did not blink.
In the meanwhile, Egg, was starfished across Dunk’s ribs, one knee digging directly into a place that made Dunk reconsider every life choice he had ever made. Very slowly, very carefully, Dunk tested the situation by attempting to inhale.
Aerion shifted.
Dunk froze so hard his whole body cramped. The prince made a soft, irritated sound in his sleep and pressed closer, fingers curling faintly in the fabric of Dunk’s tunic as if to anchor himself.
This was how men died, thought Dunk. Not in battle - not gloriously but strangled by unfortunate circumstances.
If the prince woke like this, Dunk was certain he would lose at least one arm – possibly both, way before they reached Dragonstone. He swallowed carefully; he could move –he should move. He absolutely did not want to move. The thought crept in as unwelcome as the lack of bloodflow in his arm – which was trapped under the prince: this would never happen again.
This was an accident, not something he would ever be offered.
His traitorous body decided that was reason enough to remain exactly where it was. Until a snort broke the silence. Egg lifted his head slowly, took in the scene with his sharp eyes, and then looked directly at Dunk.
Dunk glared at him in warning.
Egg’s grin widened, “comfortable, Ser?” he whispered.
“Shut up.” Dunk mouthed.
Egg propped himself up on an elbow, studying Aerion’s arm across Dunk’s middle. “He looks very settled.”
“He will murder me,” Dunk whispered back, barely moving his lips.
“Probably,” Egg agreed, “or you might lose a hand. Or a foot. Hard to say with him.”
Dunk’s heart thudded.
“As your squire,” Egg continued, “should I start drafting your eulogy now? ‘Here lies Ser Duncan the Tall. Felled by a sleeping prince half his size.’”
Dunk would have swatted him if he’d had control of his arms.
“Egg,” he breathed, desperate. “Help me.”
Egg lifted his shoulders and mouthed “how?” Then, very unhelpfully, he laid back down.
Aerion stirred again.
This time there was no freezing it out. The prince shifted, brow furrowing faintly as consciousness crept in, his fingers flexed where they rested against Dunk’s stomach. His cheek brushed slightly against Dunk’s shoulder as he moved.
Dunk watched, with growing dread, as the prince grew aware of their predicament. He braced himself for violence; instead, Aerion merely blinked, as though mildly inconvenienced by reality. His hand tightened slightly in Dunk’s tunic.
“Well,” he said, voice still rough with sleep, “this is unbecoming.”
Dunk’s mouth went dry, “my prince, I assure you, I-”
“Yes,” Aerion groaned, “I see.” His eyes flicked down briefly to where his arm lay across Dunk’s middle, then back up again. “And you did not think to move?”
“If I moved,” Dunk said carefully, “you might have assumed the worst.”
Aerion lifted an eyebrow, “and what would that have been?” He asked, tone light but the taunt still brought heat to Dunk’s face.
“That I took... liberties.”
Aerion huffed, “you do not strike me as a man prone to taking liberties, Ser Duncan,” he said, shaking his head. “You are far too earnest.”
Dunk sat up, heart hammering, “I can be un-earnest when required.” He muttered.
“I sincerely doubt it.”
Egg rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling and made a disgusted noise.
“I merely value the limbs that are not yet up for a cutting.”
Aerion huffed out a laugh and leaned slightly closer as he rose from the cot, close enough that Dunk could see the darker specks of purple in his lilac eyes. “Then try not to look so stricken, Ser,” he murmured, “it suggests you enjoyed the danger.”
Dunk forgot how words worked.
Aerion straightened as if nothing at all had occurred. “Up. If we linger any longer, the innkeeper will assume something scandalous.”
Egg sat up at last, squinting between them. “Oh, he absolutely would – any more of this and I would, too.”
“Oi! Do you want a clout on the ear?” Grunted Dunk, glaring at his squire – although he suspected that the redness on his cheeks didn’t make for a particularly intimidating picture.
“Yes, if it meant not having to hear you two-” Egg didn’t get to finish the sentence because Dunk shoved him back – a tad too hard perhaps, as his squire fell off the cot altogether. Usually Dunk would’ve felt bad, but Egg had it coming. He stood carefully, adjusting his tunic, still feeling the ghost of a hand where it had rested.
Aerion stared unimpressed as his brother got himself up from the floor, the moved toward the door; only as he reached for the handle, he paused. "Next time you wake up next to me,” he said without turning, “try not to look as though you’re facing execution. It is terribly unchivalrous.”
Dunk stared dumbly at the prince’s back. The words next time galloping in circles inside his skull like rampaging horses. For the first time, the thought of the journey to Dragonstone brought him dread instead of comfort.
It was fifth day into their journey that the question came to Dunk out of the blue.
The road had been quiet for most of the afternoon. Not silent exactly, but quiet, with the sound of hooves thudding softly against packed dirt, and Egg occasionally complaining from somewhere behind Aerion’s shoulder.
Chestnut plodded along at a patient pace beneath Dunk, while Thunder carried the princes beside him. Aerion rode in front, straight-backed and loose in the saddle as if the road belonged to him, while Egg sat behind, clinging on his waist muttering from time to time that he’d rather sit in the front.
They had been riding long enough that Dunk’s thoughts had begun drifting wherever they pleased. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Dunk’s thoughts had a habit of turning into questions.
“Why Dragonstone?” he asked suddenly, glancing over his shoulder. “Shouldn't your father be in Summerhall?”
“Should being the key word of the phrase.” Aerion snorted and Egg huffed, it was the first time Dunk had seen Egg nod along at something his brother said.
“I feel like I’m missing something...” Dunk trailed off, hoping either of the princes might take pity on him and explain.
Egg slumped against his brother’s back with a long-suffering noise. Aerion sighed, and Dunk resigned to remainng ignorant as to what seemed to equally amuse the two brothers.
Then Aerion cleared his voice, “let’s say our father and uncle are not... well versed in spending time apart...” There was a cruel little smirk on his face and Egg sniggered at his brother’s choice of words.
“One could say they’re attached at the hip...” Added Egg, earning a snort from Aerion.
“And now, after that scare at Ashford, our dear father would probably fight whoever even dared to suggest he leave his brother’s side. Dare I say not even our grandsire, the king himself, could make him move.”
“Indeed, not even the king...” Egg covered his mouth with his hand to hide his snickers.
Dunk shifted his gaze between the two brothers – it was odd, to see them so aligned. That oddity was enough to delay the realisation of what they were implying. Dunk’s eyes went very wide.
“You surely don’t mean-”
“Oh, we most certainly do.” Interrupted Aerion, cruel smile still firmly in place, “what? Not so impressed with them anymore? How could honourable Baelor Targaryen fuck his own brother?”
“Why must you be so crude, brother?” Complained Egg but did not deny Aerion’s claim.
The prince merely rolled his eyes, then “cat got your tongue before I had the chance to cut it?” He taunted and Dunk realised he must’ve been staring emptily ahead.
“I would’ve never thought... I mean- wouldn't something like that be kept secret?” Dunk asked, having the distinct impression he should not be made aware of such... intimate matters.
“Of course it’s a secret,” Aerion said, mockingly reassuring, “so, like every royal affair, everyone knows about it.”
“Truly, Ser, you were probably the only man in Ashford who didn’t know.” Added Egg with an apologetic smile.
“Oh,” Dunk said, unsure how to process such information.
“Does it bother you, Ser?” Asked Egg, then, and Dunk could tell Egg would be bothered if he were to tell he was bothered – which he wasn’t even sure he was.
Incest was undeniably a taboo, but they were Targaryens, so it was different with them – it was sort of their thing. It did not bother him that they were two men, either. Although that, too, was probably considered taboo by many.
Ultimately Dunk shrugged, “no - it’s none of my concern, anyway.” He answered honestly, then “does it bother you?”
“No,” they said in unison, “but they think they’re subtle about it, and that deserves at least a bit of mockery.”
Dunk huffed out a laugh despite himself. It still felt strange to him, speaking so casually about princes and their private affairs, stranger still to hear the two brothers speak of their own father that way. Yet neither of them looked troubled by it – If anything, they seemed delighted by the scandal of it all.
Dunk tried to imagine the sort of life that produced princes who mocked their own family like this – but without shame; who fled from it across half the world and then rode back to their nest as if it was the only possible outcome.
Eventually curiosity got the better of him, he cleared his throat and nudged Chestnut forward until he rode closer beside them.
“My, prince, why did you leave the Free Cities?” he asked. “Wouldn’t you be – well, freer there?”
Aerion glanced at him, as if considering whether to answer or not. “I admit it was fun – for a while at least.” He said eventually, “But then, I realised I was merely a sort of exotic beast to flaunt around for them. There was me and there was them. A Targaryen, completely alone… it does not bide well. My dreams got worse, urging me to go back to be among my brood.”
Dunk hummed, “your father will be glad to see you.”
Aerion barked out a laugh, “I wouldn’t be so sure – mind he was the one who sent me away. But considering I will bring the cause of all my misfortunes along he will perhaps be more lenient – my uncle will surely be glad to see you.”
“Me?” Dunk didn’t miss the thinly veiled bitterness laced in Aerion’s tone. He felt a pang of guilt at the thought he might be a more welcome guest to the princes than their own flesh and blood. “Wait- what?” His brain finally caught up with Aerion’s words, “how am I supposed to be the cause of your misfortunes?”
“You attacked me. You challenged me. You risked having the heir to the throne killed. You almost ruined my face. Take your pick.” Aerion shrugged.
“All of that was entirely your fault, Aerion.” Intervened Egg, from behind his brother’s back, “you were hurting that girl – Ser Duncan saved her, because he’s a true knight, unlike you.” Dunk winced at Egg’s words – the conviction with which they were spoken. He also noticed Aerion looking at him with a strange glint in his eyes.
“Is he, now?”
“Yes!” Nodded vehemently Egg, “and it’s certainly not Dunk’s fault if nobody wants you around.”
“Egg!” Dunk scolded his squire, “I’m sure your father will be glad to see you, both. Your uncle, too.” He added then, offering the prince a small smile.
Aerion scoffed, “why are you like this?”
“Like what?”
“Irritating. I insulted you – multiple times. I diminish you and disrespect you constantly. Why do you insist on being kind to me? Have you no pride?”
Dunk shrugged, a rueful smile pulling at his lips. “No offence, but you’re not the first one to call me stupid for my kindness, nor I think you’ll be the last, my prince. I hope one day I’ll find pride in the man I’ll become.”
“My uncle would gladly take you into the Kingsguard. He’s fond of fools like you.”
Dunk blinked at that, momentarily thrown off balance as Chestnut plodded steadily along the dusty road.
“The Kingsguard?” Dunk repeated. “I’m not sure if that’s meant to be praise or an insult, my prince.” Dunk huffed a quiet laugh and shook his head. “Well, I reckon I’d make a poor Kingsguard anyway.”
Aerion glanced over his shoulder, “why?”
“I’m too tall for the white cloak,” Dunk said solemnly, “would drag in the mud everywhere.”
Egg sniggered, nearly losing his grip on his brother’s waist. “That’s not how cloaks work, Ser,” he managed.
“Shows what I know.”
Aerion studied him for another moment, as if Dunk’s refusal to take the suggestion seriously offended him in some obscure way. “You defeated three knights at Ashford,” The prince said after a moment, “you humiliated me in front of half the realm – my uncle values men who can do both.” He scoffed.
“That wasn’t the plan,” muttered Dunk, lowering his gaze.
“No,” Aerion said dryly, “your plans appear to consist mostly of stumbling into things.”
Egg nodded eagerly, “that’s true.”
Dunk gave them both a wounded look. “Very loyal of you, Egg.”
“I try, Ser.”
Aerion scoffed again, but there was less bite to it now. He shifted slightly in the saddle, one arm resting lazily across the pommel while Thunder picked its way down the road.
The path growing narrower and the air sharper with salt signalled that the end of their journey was near, but they did not reach Dragonstone that evening.
Instead, they stopped beneath a crooked yew tree that leaned toward the sea as if it had been listening to the waves for a hundred years. The ground was luckily dry enough for a fire, and Dunk gathered wood while Egg complained about the wind and Aerion complained about everything else.
Chestnut and Thunder grazed nearby; reins looped over a low branch.
The fire crackled happily between them once the dark settled in. Dunk sat with his back against the tree, stretching his legs toward the warmth with a long sigh so deep it might’ve come right out of his bones.
Across the flames, Aerion watched the sparks drift upward like stray fireflies.
Then Dunk cleared his throat, “my prince?”
Aerion didn’t look at him. “Yes, Ser Duncan.”
“I was wondering if you had decided...” Dunk scratched the side of his jaw thoughtfully.
“Decided what?” Asked Aerion, finally glancing over.
“How many limbs should I lose,” Dunk explained, “once we reach Dragonstone.”
Egg snorted so suddenly he almost choked on the salted beef he was chewing.
Aerion stared at Dunk for a long moment, then his lips quirked slowly at one corner, “I have not decided yet.”
“Ah,” Dunk nodded gravely, “too severe were my crimes, to come to an easy conclusion.”
“Indeed.”
“I would’ve just liked to know in advance, if possible,” Dunk continued, “so I could prepare myself.”
Aerion tilted his head slightly, “prepare yourself, how?”
“Well,” Dunk gestured vaguely at his arms. “If you plan to take both of these I might as well enjoy them while I still can.”
Aerion studied Dunk for another long moment, eyes bright in the firelight. “How exactly,” he asked slowly, “does one enjoy his arms before losing them?”
Dunk blinked at him, “I- well…” he scratched the back of his neck.
“Fascinating,” Aerion said dryly, “would the loss of your limbs truly be such a tragedy?”
“Well, they’re good limbs,” Dunk said defensively, holding one up as if presenting evidence. “Perfectly serviceable, I’ve grown rather attached to them.”
Egg, who had been trying to smother his laughter in his sleeve, failed spectacularly and let out a snigger.
Aerion ignored him entirely, his gaze stayed fixed on Dunk. “And what,” he asked, voice dipping just a little, “would you do with them in the meantime?”
Dunk hesitated; then, before he could think better of it, he leaned forward and wrapped both arms around Aerion in a quick, firm hug.
It lasted perhaps two seconds. Three at most.
Just long enough for Dunk to realise three things at once: that Aerion was very warm despite the chilly night air, that he smelled faintly of smoke and leather, and that he had absolutely just embraced a Targaryen prince who had threatened to dismember him at least twelve times that week.
Dunk immediately let go and leaned back again as if nothing had happened.
“There,” he said briskly, “something like that.”
Egg gasped, he covered his mouth with his hands and closed his eyes, as if bracing for the worst.
Aerion did not move; for a moment he simply sat there, staring at Dunk as if he had grown a second head. Then he looked down at his own hands, flexed his fingers once, and glanced back up. “That,” Aerion said slowly, “was extremely presumptuous of you.”
“Yes, my prince.” Dunk said, lowering his gaze.
“And foolish.”
“Also yes.”
Another pause.
Aerion’s mouth twitched. “Well,” he said, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve with great dignity, “if you are determined to indulge in such… sentimental nonsense before your impending mutilation, I suppose I can tolerate it for one evening.”
Egg, who had opened one eye to squint between the fingers covering his face finally lost the battle against himself and started laughing in earnest.
Aerion picked up a chuck of burning wood from the fire and tossed it in his brother’s general direction without looking. “Silence, or I will begin the dismemberment with you.” Egg, unfazed, only laughed harder.
Dunk rubbed the back of his neck again, trying very hard not to notice that Aerion had not actually moved away.
A quiet pause followed. The silence was broken by the screech of a howl and a faint rustling could be heard from where the horses slept. Aerion stood up, brushing ash from his trousers.
“I’m going to see to Thunder,” he said lightly.
Thunder had not made a sound in several minutes, but Aerion walked off anyway, disappearing into the darker edge of the trees. The moment he was gone, Egg rolled onto his stomach and propped his chin on his hands. He stared at Dunk with an irritatingly knowing expression. Dunk pretended very hard not to notice.
“You know,” Egg said.
“Whenever you start a sentence like that I regret not walking faster.” Dunk sighed.
“You’re still alive after travelling for days with my brother.” Said Egg, grinning.
Dunk glanced toward the trees where Aerion disappeared and made a non-committal noise.
Egg wiggled his pale eyebrows, “that means he likes you.”
Dunk nearly dropped the stick he was using to poke the fire, “do you want a clout-”
“Trust me,” Egg interrupted him with great authority, “if Aerion didn’t like you, you’d have been dead somewhere around the second mile.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“It’s a compliment by his standards.”
Dunk sighed again, “I’m not sure your brother knows what a compliment is.”
“Oh, he does,” Egg said cheerfully, “he’s just bad at them – as he’s bad at pretty much anything.”
Dunk poked the fire again and Egg leaned forward conspiratorially, “he’s also been staring at you.”
Dunk glared at his squire, “he has not.”
“All the time.”
“That’s not true.”
“Especially when you’re not looking.”
Dunk stared into the flames refusing to look at his squire, “Egg.”
“Yes, Ser?”
“You are making things up.”
“I am not.”
Dunk groaned softly and dragged a hand over his face.
Egg tilted his head, studying him. “You like him too, Ser.” It was not a question.
Dunk made a noise somewhere between a cough and a strangled laugh, “he’s a prince. I don’t even have a family name. And we are both men. And he’s threatened to remove my limbs.”
“Yes, to all of that.” Egg said thoughtfully, “but you didn’t deny it. And it’s not like you have to marry him – my father and uncle aren’t married to each other, but that doesn’t seem to affect their relationship whatsoever.”
Before Dunk could decide whether that was comforting or horrifying, footsteps crunched softly behind them. Aerion emerged from the shadows, brushing leaves from his sleeve. Thunder, still perfectly calm, stood exactly where he left him.
Aerion’s gaze flicked between them, “why do you both look guilty?”
Egg immediately sat up straighter, “we were discussing Ser Duncan’s remaining limbs. As his squire I must know how to best assist him once he’ll be a cripple.” He said, nodding very seriously.
Aerion raised an eyebrow but said nothing and Dunk stared into the fire with the focus of a man who wished to become part of it.
As the night deepened, the fire burned lower, shrinking from lively flames to a bed of steady embers which Aerion poked boredly. The sea wind sighed through the grass and the horses shifted occasionally in the dark, their reins clinking softly.
Egg was the first casualty of the evening.
One moment he was still talking, explaining with great passion why Dunk would be a better teacher than Aerion for his training, and the next his words dissolved into a yawn so wide it seemed to swallow half his face.
“I’m not tired,” he announced stubbornly, then he proceeded to curl up beside Dunk’s boot and fell asleep almost immediately.
Dunk looked down at him and chuckled quietly. “Well,” he murmured, nudging the blanket over Egg’s shoulder with his foot, “one dragon down.”
Aerion snorted softly. For a while they sat in companionable silence, watching the fire settle.
Dunk leaned back against the tree again; across from him, Aerion laid half propped on one elbow, idly tracing shapes in the dirt with a stick.
“It’s strange,” said Dunk, eventually.
Aerion glanced at him. “What is?”
“This journey ending.”
Aerion huffed faintly, “it lasted but a week – hardly an adventure worth telling. And you speak as if you’re not eager to be rid of me.”
“I am really not – quite the contrary, actually.”
“Careful, Ser Duncan.” Aerion tutted, “one might think you grew fond of the dishonourable prince who broke that poor girl’s fingers…” Aerion flicked the stick into the fire.
“You don’t seem to be that prince anymore,” said Dunk, “you seem different…” He added after a moment.
Aerion’s head snapped up. “Different.” He said the word like it was a grave insult.
“A bit.”
“I assure you, Ser Duncan, I have not undergone any sort of change during this unfortunate journey.” Scoffed Aerion with magnificent offense.
Aerion rolled his eyes and dropped back onto the grass with a disgruntled sigh. Dunk was about to continue when a streak of silver cut suddenly across the sky. “Another falling star, my prince!” Dunk said, pointing upward. “Maybe dragons will come back soon...”
Aerion turned his head to follow the fading trail.
“You think so?”
Dunk couldn’t help but smile at the earnestness of the question. “I’m not sure that what I think matters at all,” Dunk said with a small shrug, “but when I was little, I always hoped to get the chance to see one. When I learned they were gone, I was devastated...”
Aerion watched the empty sky where the star vanished. “Well, Ser Duncan,” he said after a moment, “stars seem to favour you. Make a wish – they might listen...”
Dunk considered that very seriously, then he nodded once; “I wished for you to find a place where you want to be, then, my prince.”
Aerion turned so quickly he nearly knocked his head on the ground.
“I- What?! No, Dunk! You were supposed to wish for dragons!”
Dunk’s eyes widened, “I’m sorry, my prince...” Dunk lifted his hands in surrender and offered an apologetic smile.
Aerion groaned and rubbed his face. “Never mind. It’s useless anyway.” He shook his head and let himself fall back onto the grass again, staring up at the stars. “It was nice, though.” He added after a beat of silence, “stupid, but nice. I don’t think anyone had ever had such a gentle thought for me.” He said as he got himself up from the ground and sat down beside Dunk.
Dunk shifted a little where he sat beneath the tree, the rough bark pressing into his back as he tried to make room for Aerion. “Well,” he said quietly, after a moment, “it seemed like the sort of wish a star might understand. If not for a man, for a dragon then…”
The prince smiled at that, “you are a very strange man, Ser Duncan.”
“So, I’ve been told, my prince.”
“Aerion. You hugged me – might as well drop the titles.”
“Aerion.” Dunk repeated, smiling at the sound of the name.
Morning broke grey and windy close to the sea.
Dunk had seen Dragonstone from a distance before, rising black and jagged from the water like the spine of some enormous beast. Up close it was worse – the castle seemed less built than grown, twisted towers and gargoyles clawing at the sky. Smoke curled from the mountain behind it, and the air smelled faintly of salt and sulfur.
Chestnut did not care for it. The horse tossed her head and protested all the way to the fortress. Thunder fared little better, though Aerion seemed more than capable by now to calm down the horse.
When they rode through the gate guards in the red and black of House Targaryen watched them pass, and Dunk suddenly felt very large, very dusty, and very aware that he did not belong anywhere near a place like this. The yard beyond bustled with soldiers and stableboys – word had clearly travelled ahead of them.
Two men stood waiting near the steps that climbed toward the main hall. Even from across the courtyard Dunk recognised them.
Prince Baelor stood tall and bright in the morning light. Beside him Prince Maekar was darker, broader, his expression carved into a permanent scowl.
Dunk felt his stomach drop.
Egg peeked around Aerion’s back and caught Maekar’s gaze.
“Father.” He said as he climbed off Thunder from behind his brother.
Maekar’s eyes swept over him, then past him to Aerion. His mouth tightened, “you return,” he said flatly.
Aerion dismounted with considerably less enthusiasm. Dust clung to his boots and cloak, but he did not bother brushing it away. “As you see.”
Baelor stepped forward before the silence could sharpen any further.
“Ser Duncan,” he warmly.
Dunk scrambled down from Chestnut so quickly he nearly tangled himself in the reins. He bowed as best he could, though he felt terribly clumsy beneath the prince’s calm gaze.
“Your Grace.”
It was only when he straightened that he remembered the conversation with Egg and Aerion on the road – the casual way the scandal of princes’ relationship had been described by the two brothers. Dunk tried very hard not to look directly at either Baelor or Maekar.
Which, unfortunately, only made it worse.
His eyes darted everywhere except where they ought to be, landing briefly on Baelor’s shoulder, then the ground, then somewhere near Maekar’s boots.
Baelor watched this performance with visible amusement. Maekar did not. “You brought my sons back alive,” Maekar said at last.
“Yes, my prince.”
Aerion scoffed softly, “if you wished me dead you might have said so earlier. It would have saved us all a great deal of time.”
“You will watch your tongue, boy.” Maekar’s head snapped toward him. “You disgraced your house in the tournament, you fled your punishment and returned escorted by the hedge knight who defeated you in front of half the realm.”
Aerion’s eyes flashed, for a moment the courtyard seemed to hold its breath. Egg shifted uneasily where he stood beside Dunk. Aerion opened his mouth, clearly ready with some cutting reply, but Baelor’s voice slid smoothly between them.
“Brother,” he said gently, “perhaps we might save the rest of this discussion for indoors.”
“Yes,” Maekar agreed. He did not move his eyes from Aerion, “you have shamed this family enough.”
Aerion’s jaw tightened, “have I.”
“Yes.”
Dunk suddenly wished very badly that he were somewhere else, preferably several hundred miles away.
Baelor’s gaze flicked briefly toward him, reading the discomfort plain on his face and offered him a smile. “Ser Duncan,” he said kindly, “you have done us a great service.”
Dunk rubbed the back of his neck, “I only did what any knight would do, Your Grace.”
Baelor smiled faintly, “not every knight would have, especially given your… history with my nephew.”
“And what do you intend to do with yourself, Ser Duncan?” asked Maekar, as he finally looked away from Aerion, his gaze settled on Dunk now, heavy and assessing.
Dunk blinked. “Well… I hadn’t rightly decided yet.”
“We are leaving,” announced Egg, stepping forward.
Maekar turned slowly toward him. “You are not.”
“I am.” Egg said, lifting his chin stubbornly.
“You will remain here and continue your education and training.”
“With respect, Father, I’ve learned more travelling with Dunk than I ever did sitting in a hall listening to maesters argue about dragon bones.”
“That is not your decision.”
Baelor raised a hand lightly, “brother.”
Maekar’s jaw tightened visibly and, while Dunk would’ve advised his squire not to test his father, Egg pressed his advantage immediately.
“Ser Duncan is a true knight,” he said fiercely. “He always protected me on the road and treated me fairly. I won’t squire for anyone but him.”
Maekar’s gaze returned to Dunk and he felt about two centimetres tall.
“I did not intend to-”
“It seems the boy has chosen.” Baelor interrupted him, chuckling softly.
Maekar scowled at his brother, “that is precisely the problem.”
Baelor leaned closer, speaking quietly enough that only his brother could hear. Not that Dunk would’ve understood them as they spoke in High Valyrian.
“Let him go, brother.” Said Baelor then, looking at Dunk, “the road teaches lessons no castle ever can.”
Maekar’s expression darkened and for a long moment he said nothing. Then he exhaled sharply through his nose, “very well.”
Egg’s grin nearly split his face.
“But you will write,” Maekar added, “and if I hear even one whisper of-”
“Yes, Father.” Egg nodded excitedly before Maekar could finish.
The matter, somehow, was settled. Dunk blinked in disbelief as Egg hurried toward Thunder to gather his things.
Baelor turned back to Dunk with an easy smile. “Take care of him.”
“I will, Your Grace.” Dunk nodded and, as he turned to reassure his brother as well he saw that Maekar had already left.
Aerion too had disappeared. Dunk only realised that when he glanced around the courtyard and saw no sign of the prince.
A strange, hollow feeling settled somewhere behind his ribs. He had meant to say something – what exactly, he did not know – but the chance had slipped away.
By midday Dunk and Egg were riding back across the causeway.
Dragonstone loomed behind them like a black storm cloud.
Egg seemed delighted with the turn of events, chattering happily as Thunder and Chestnut carried them toward the mainland.
Dunk nodded along, though his thoughts wandered, his mind going back to Aerion. It had been a stupid sort of crush, really. A prince like that would never have looked twice at a man like him. Still, Dunk suspected he would miss him.
They reached the mainland by mid-afternoon and they set off. They rode quietly for a few hours, the road stretching open ahead of them, wide and uncertain.
Egg turned around and shaded his eyes suddenly.
“Ser.”
Dunk turned. A rider approached from behind, a black horse galloping hard along the road.
For a moment Dunk thought it might be a messenger from Dragonstone.
Then the wind lifted the hood and silver hair glinted in the sunlight.
Dunk felt his heart lurch. The rider slowed beside them, breathing only slightly harder than usual. Aerion sat tall in the saddle, his unassuming grey cloak snapping in the wind.
Egg blinked, “you left.”
Aerion glanced back toward the distant island. “Yes.”
“Does our father know?”
“Almost certainly not.”
Dunk stared, “my prince-”
Aerion tilted his head slightly, studying him. “You looked disappointed when you rode away.”
Dunk flushed, “I- well- I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye.”
A smirk pulled at Aerion’s lips as he shrugged, “problem solved.”
Dunk looked, dumbfounded, at the prince. But perhaps it was a good thing he was at a loss of words, otherwise he might’ve embarrassed himself to the point Aerion might reconsider his choices and head back to Dragonstone. Egg gave him an aggravatingly knowing look and sniggered.
In the silence, the road stretched wide before them, empty and bright beneath the open sky.
Aerion glanced at it thoughtfully, “so, hedge knight, where to?”
Dunk hesitated only a moment, “that’s the good part, my pr- Aerion.” Dunk corrected himself as he smiled at the prince, “we can go anywhere.”
Aerion hummed softly, considering the endless road ahead; “mmh, stars truly do seem to favour you, Dunk – that sounds just like a place where I might want to be...”