Chapter Text
Ser Arlan had been sick for naught four days before he had passed.
He had shivered, even when Dunk had tucked both their cloaks and any cloth they had to spare around him. He became slower, slouching in the seat of Sweetfoot and taking longer than usual to answer Dunk's pathetic whims. Even his eyes had lost focus, sometimes staring right through him.
Dunk was used to this because his Master was a heavy drinker. But this was no drink. Dunk was confirmed in his beliefs when he awoke very early on this grey morning to find his Ser unresponsive.
He had cried so hard he had thrown up on the side of the tree they had slept under. "Quit those tears," his Ser would have said. "No crying omega will make it in the world of the hedge." Dunk would have listened and scolded his silly omega self, only his blustering sobs were the only thing he could hear at the time. At least the trickling rain had wiped them away if Ser Arlan was looking in the afterlife.
He had dug him beneath the tree, facing towards where dusk would appear. Ser Arlan had always loved sunsets and so it felt right. It had also felt right to leave a few flowers over the burial, even if he knew his old Master would scoff at the soft-heartedness of omegas.
Ser Arlan had never been spiteful, despite him being an alpha and physical way about learning. He would scold him for his whims of gentleness with children or animals, even bringing his hand to his head in a thud. Once he'd hit him so hard Dunk's head had rang for hours, his vision blurred.
His urge had gotten so bad he had once clasped his Ser's arm, in any grasp for the warmth of touch, only to be drunkenly shaken off. "No knight depends on touch, it is fraut." He had said, so Dunk figured touch wasn't good, but why did the need for it consume him so?
He had to force himself to ignore instincts of touch and gentleness, to ignore the need for safety and comfort. To live the life of a true knight, no matter his secondary status.
Now, this early morn, he found himself atop Sweetfoot, leading Chestnut and Thunder behind, riding along the gravelled roads in hopes of finding something. They had just passed into the Reach when Ser Arlan had gotten sick, so Dunk was just following empty strings, he felt like a dog who no longer had an owner to follow.
The wind swayed the trees above, their long trunks standing tall and all along the pathline. Dunk found his gaze flitting through the endless woods, the morning sunrise gleaming down. He was glad it was no longer raining, that had enduced his sadness tenfold when it began to pitter as he dug Ser Arlan's grave.
The sun was a flipside, the shine heating up his skin and clothes. Dunk closed his eyes and allowed the warmth to overtake him, breathing deeply. He loved the sun on his face, he felt like a tomcat lounging in the heat.
A sudden crack had him opening his eyes and looking towards the noise.
There stood a tall stag. It's fur was dark, darker than any he had ever seen. It must have almost black with how dark it was, but the pale crown of antlers atop its head stood out. They were beautiful stretching things that long green vines curled around and hung from.
The stag's dark eyes were boring into his, it's glistening nose wet from the catch of the light of the sun. It didn't step out of the dark forest, only waiting, or looking.
It was magestic.
Dunk continued to move forward, Sweetfoot not alerted of the other animal and trotting ahead for her rider. His eyes stayed locked on the deer, willing to keep its beauty in his mind forever - surely he would never see such a fantastic creature again in his life? This was luck, maybe a sign to continue on? Maybe, just maybe, a sign from Ser Arlan, a sign of love or trust. Someone checking in on him. The only person to.
Just the thought of his old Master sending a sign helped Dunk to move along.
They rode a little longer, the sun still only just shining past dawn when he stumbled across a small inn looked as if it had seen better days. Only after stoking himself up with forced confidence and assertiveness from Ser Arlan did he find himself waving to a boy he saw stood by the stable entrance.
Gleaming eyes peered up at him, the boy's bald head shiny under the torch light. His clothing was ragged, on off yellow with a brown belt cinched at his waist. He looked so small, Dunk's inner omega was almost cooing before he snapped himself out of it.
A weakness, he thought. I must be strong, for both Ser Arlan and I.
"Hullo," he called out, hoping the boy would come forward. When he didn't, Dunk began minding his own business, stopping Sweetfoot with a soft tug before sliding off her saddle. He gathered the reigns and gave her a pat on the neck, before he turned back. The pup had stepped closer. Dunk smiled.
"Hello," the boy said, his voice quiet.
"Are you the stable boy?" He asked.
The boy shook his head, staring up at him. "Your hair," He spoke again. The boy's hand lifted to his pale face, softly rubbing at his cheeks as if in thought. It was then, now that he was closer, that Dunk saw the small scales that adorned his face, blending well with his smooth skin. It was a seamless pattern which appeared pure white in the firelight, though it only appeared across his cheek bones and slightly spreading up to his temple beside his eyes.
Dunk's own eyes widened as he stared down at him. Only godly figures or their offspring bore the marks of animals and creatures, Ser Arlan had said. He had briefly told him of the gods in each region of Westeros, usually a powerful head figure with their related families being lesser than but still so much greater than the small folk.
In the Reach, 'Longthorn' was reigning god, Lord Leo Tyrell when bringing offerings in supplication. In the North, it was Lord Barthogen Stark who was worshipped, known as 'Blacksword'. When you entered a region, you would worship the ruling god, though Dunk didn't know much as a whole as his old Ser was never religious, only telling him little of what he needed to know.
When they passed through regions, Dunk always thought to himself prayers anyways, just in case some god or other took offense to his Master's lack-of.
The scales on the boy reminded him of a woman he had once seen in the Riverlands. Her face had scales that were a bluish-grey and from what Dunk had seen, it had spread down her neck, and she even held some on her hands. She must have been a distant relative of Lord Medgar Tully, 'The Blue Fish'. Maybe this boy was also from Riverrun and a distant relative?
Dunk realised he had been staring at the boy for too long when he spoke again, "Your eyes," he whispered again, unbelieving, still caressing his own cheek; he was definitely deep in thought.
Dunk's brow furrowed. What was this pup talking about, his hair, his eyes? "What about them?" He questioned.
The boy said nothing. They stood staring at each other for a few more moments. "What's your name?" He asked, hoping for something. He was never any good at conversation. Dunk the Lunk, thick as a castle wall.
"Egg." He chirped back, as if snapped out of a phase. Dunk could understand getting lost in your own head. Ser Arlan would say his was so void he would forget where he was for time without another there. "Are you a knight, Ser?"
The omega cleared his throat, trying to straighten his shoulders to his full height. "Yea- I am, yes." He fidgeted with the longsword Ser Arlan had once used. "S-Ser Dunk."
"Ser Dunk," The pup looked to think on it, but he didn't move to rub his cheek which Dunk quickly figured meant he was putting on a show. "That is no name for a knight. Your belt's made of rope," Egg pointed out.
Dunk flushed. "Aye, so what? I'm a hedge knight, all that I need is my sword and what Mother Nature provides." Ser Arlan had always said the truest knight lived only off nature as it centred their inner beast. That knights sworn to gods and their houses were not as honourable because they flung their secondary status around freely.
Dunk thought that maybe he would like to be a sworn knight one day, if only be allowed to give in to his instincts without fear of a clout to the ear. But who was he kidding, he had already given in to one by talking to Egg.
Egg's seemed to glow at his confirmation. "Is Dunk short for Duncan?"
"Erm- yes. Yes, it is." He lied.
The boy stepped forward, eagerly lifting his hands. "I can take your horses, Ser. I shall rub them down and feed them."
Dunk snorted, considering it. It was no harm, the pup could learn something. And besides, he was starving, and Egg didn't seem to be doing anything as of importance. Dunk wondered where the actual stable boy had gotten off to.
"If you do well, I'll give you a copper." He said handing over the reigns. "And a clout in the ear if not," Ser Arlan would have said, but Dunk couldn't even think of it, let alone actually do it. Egg just looked so small... so soft. Still a pup. Even his scent was the soothing balm of unpresented pup, which relaxed the omega when he stepped closer.
Egg led the horses through the stable doors and Dunk headed inside.
He found many empty chairs and tables, tapestries and old wood decorating the walls. The room was lit well, the fires flickering and crackling. A man sat in the corner, his head on the table and his body folded in on itself. An empty cup sat in front of him.
A few tables next to him sat a trio of men, all stinking of alpha pheromones. They guffawed loudly, hitting each other and talking over one another.
Dunk found himself taking off his old Ser's shield and sitting a table off from them. A woman came through a door with a jug, a barmaid, her eyes catching him before swiftly making her way over.
"Welcom'," she said. "I have a few ducks me son shot down, or chicken, if you woul' like."
She poured him a cup of water which he quickly drank. "Both please, miss."
The barmaid chuckled to herself, looking him up and down. "Aye, soun's about right." She refilled his cup again, before looking around the room. "Don't mind the lack of men, they've all gone down t' Ashford."
Dunk wiped at his mouth where water droplets had been left from how fast he had drank. "Ashford?" He asked, he couldn't think of any tourneys or meetings happening. Not that Ser Arlan had mentioned anyways.
"Aye," She answered, walking away. "There's be'n talk of The Laughin' Storm roamin' about."
The Laughing Storm? He thought to himself. Dunk didn't know much about religion, only picking up things from what he'd heard through travelling and Ser Arlan's minor ramblings. It was gapped knowledge, but he did know that no god ever passed to another region. Their offsprings were likely to spread all over Westeros, but hearing a head god had passed into another territory was practically unheard of, at least to Dunk.
Why would The Laughing Storm cross to Longthorn's land?
Only the Targaryen head god's had ever stretched across Westeros; they were seen as the strongest house, though Dunk was sure other's would challenge that. But that hadn't been done for over a hundred years. Or was it a hundred and fifty? Dunk's knowledge was patched, but he could only understand what he knew.
The omega thought the no crossing rule was because of the power scale of worshippers choosing and the alpha instincts of being territoral and taking offense, but the story of the Queen omega Nymeria visciously protecting Dorne against Aegon the Conqueror proved otherwise. That was one of Dunk's favourites, mostly because it was one of the only one's he properly knew from Flea Bottom.
Though, again, what did Dunk know?
An overbearing shout snapped him out of his thoughts, the men at the table a few chairs over jeering. "Aye, The Laughing Storm himself has been sighted near Ashford!" One shouted, his beard short and wet with split beer.
Another with one eye turned to face Dunk, "Many have gathered in worship in hopes of a sighting." He burped and Dunk made a face before he smoothed it out. Ser Arlan had always said his face gave him away. "They wish for his favour because of his strange behaviour."
"Strange behaviour?" He echoed again, so confused and unable to grasp the religious context.
The men laughed, cackling to one another, their scents stinking the place. Dunk turned back to the barmaid as she appeared with a large bowl of what must have been both duck and chicken. He said his thanks and buried his face, an unsual hunger filling his stomach. He felt empty, and food was a good way to fill himself.
As he wiped his face, his eyes caught on the shine of blonde hair moving. The drunk figure in the corner sat up, and squinted at Dunk across the room. The omega couldn't help shifting under the scrutinizing gaze.
"You must be the golden sun with lightning eyes," He whispered before lowly chuckling to himself. He stumbled up, face wincing, though from drained look on his face Dunk didn't know whether it was from the drink or dream.
"M'Lord?" Dunk asked. He couldn't really see the man's face from so far away, his hair the only clear feature, but he guessed from the flowing cape behind him that he was someone important.
The man made no other comment, tripping up the stairs in a sorry drunken state. Dunk's thoughts flitted to Ser Arlan, the man often stumbling away from Dunk himself when drunk. Dunk making sure he was comfortable when passing out after screaming and dancing, bringing him water at dawn.
The omega felt a burning feeling behind his eyes, his nose twitching with an itch. He flexed his hands before standing. He gave another thanks to the barmaid for the meal before walking towards stable. A small tear fell when he thought he would be walking to ready the horses for Ser Arlan if he were here.
Upon entry he found Sweetfoot, Chestnut, and Thunder all groomed properly and munching on oats. The boy brought a happy feeling in his chest until he realised he wasn't in sight. He must have left. He slowly moved towards Chestnut, patting her neck softly, his energy zapped.
Dunk felt the absense of his Ser more strongly now than he had felt all day, Egg being gone only building more a void. He was alone.
Dunk's sniffles and Thunder's braying were the only noises in the stable. That is, until a little head poked out and startled Dunk. He quickly ran a hand under his eyes and nose to hide his sadness.
"Are you well, Ser?" The head asked, peering round the corner with eyes so dark Dunk was unsure what colour they truly were. His scales gleamed even more inside, glittering white.
Dunk cleared his throat and stood tall, "I'm fine, lad. My- My late Master, Ser Arlan of Pennytree. He died on the journey here and I- I buried him along the way. Just grieving is all, boy." He paused in his words when he found the pup staring at him in awe, his eyes round with wonder which highlighted his very bald head.
He's probably the baldest person I've ever seen, Dunk thought to himself. His inner omega purred, Egg had not left.
"I'm sorry, Ser." He said, but he didn't seem that apologetic as he walked up to him. "Where are you headed next?"
Dunk thought for a moment.
"To Ashford," he nodded to himself, as if reassuring himself of his decision. "I wish to see the commotion about The Laughing Storm." He had nowhere else to go, and he was as curious as those other worshippers.
Egg was bouncing on his toes now in excitement. "Take me with you, Ser! I could squire for you!"
Dunk blanched. "No, boy. What would your dam say to that?"
"Not much, she's dead."
Dunk's inner omega whined in displeasure. "Are you an orphan?" He frowned.
"Are you?" Egg cheekily sniped back. The boy was standing tall, head tilted far back to stare him in the eyes. Bold and cheeky this one, he thought. Must be an orphan, poor pup.
"I was, until my Ser took me in." The thought of his late Master made his head hurt and a burning to the back of his eyes. Dunk blinked quickly to rid himself the thought and feeling. "A-Anyways, I've no need for a squire. I don't wish to fight but to see."
"Then, please, Ser. Take me with you. I am sick of this stuffed inn, I also wish to see The Laughing Storm!"
The puppy eyes staring up at him and hands clasped desperately in front of his chest forced Dunk to reconsider. He was weak to children. Would it be safe for Egg though? Would he trust himself to protect him, even if came down to being against a godly figure?
"You are a hedge knight," Ser Arlan had once sternly said, finger pointing in his face. "Smarten up and act like one."
His inner omega pushed at him, shouting at him to say yes, that he was the only one who could protect this small pup from such dangers. He took Egg in fully; tiny, so bald, white scales shimmering, and a mischievious smile on his face.
"Fine," Dunk grunted out, hiding his pleased smile as Egg's face lit up by turning towards Chestnut. He began unwinding her reins from the wooden stand. "As long as you do as your told." He said sternly as Egg ran up to him, bouncing in excitement and nodding quickly.
"I'll take care of you as best I can. We may sleep in hedges, and eat hard salt beef, but you'll be cared for." He placed a hand on the boy's head, as if ruffling his hair. It didn't matter because Egg nuzzled back into his palm, smiling.
He lifted the boy on top of Chestnut before handing him the reigns. "You know how to ride?" He questioned, worried now that the pup may hurt himself up so high.
Egg snorted, moving Chesnut foward towards the open door with sass. "Of course, Ser. I ride better than you."
Dunk scoffed at the confidence, amusement filling his scent as he heard the pup's unbelieving cheek.
"I could outride you anyday," He goaded back, climbing atop Sweetfoot.
"In your dreams, Ser Duncan."
Dunk found himself barking a laugh, the feeling so good his heart swelled with warmth.