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Dragonstone rises from the morning mist, like a great, curling, sleeping beast, black against the silver-gold of the rising sun, still low above the sea. It looks something like a nightmare to Duncan, with its black stones and uncountable dragon statues. The ship takes them ever-closer to it, and he breaths in the smell of salt and sulfur. This is a home of dragons and he feels like he's walking straight into their den.
He finds that he doesn't mind it all that much as he looks down at Egg by his side, the boy still trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes. He pats his bald little head and smiles as the little prince tries to swat his hand away.
...
The ancient seat of the dragon-lords isn't any more inviting from close up, but Egg seems to enjoy it, running down the beach and saying hello to the guards and sassing his father who came to welcome him home.
Prince Maekar still gives Duncan a disapproving frown, not quite convinced of the better qualities of the hedge knight, but Duncan only smiles at him, all polite and rather unbothered. The prince grumbles but there isn't much to say and soon they get out of the uninviting, grey weather into the uninviting, black fortress.
As they walk down the corridors, it gets better. There are beautiful carpets on the floor and on the walls, fine furniture and paintings and heavy velvet curtains. The rooms are blessedly warm and the servants are numerous, dressed in better clothing than Duncan has ever seen on any small folk. The ceilings get higher and higher and he can see gardens as he peers out of the windows.
...
Duncan meets the Prince again that afternoon. Egg wants to greet his uncle, who was busy in some meeting all morning and lunch and he insists dragging Duncan with him by the wrist.
They both kneel as they are let into the solar, Duncan quietly amused to see Egg so polite. It doesn't last long, Egg springing up like a little frog the moment he's allowed.
"Uncle, I've returned!" He yells out, hopping up to the Prince who stood to greet him.
Only, Duncan thinks, he not a prince anymore, but the King, Lord of all seven kingdoms. He hasn't really thought much about it before, Baelor living on like noble prince with a smile in the corner of his eyes in Duncan's mind, but looking at him now the change is apparent.
Heavy is the head.
There is silver now in King Baelor's hair that was not there before, starting at his temples and his forehead, strands of white melting into his dark curls. It looks good on him, Duncan thinks, kingly. Regal.
The grief he wears around his shoulders like a heavy cape, even as he listens to Egg tattle on, looks less good. His bearing is as proud as it can be, no-one could think him anything less then the King, and yet it seems there is an impossible weight pulling him downwards. To the cold, unforgiving earth.
In that earth, Dunk remembers suddenly, lie both his children and his father.
Egg wept upon learning of his cousins' deaths when they first heard of them and Duncan did his best to console him at the time. The only family he ever lost, that he could have ever lost, was Sir Arlan and it cut deep into his soul and he held Egg and he wished he knew better what to say. The boy could only cry the other princes' names. He quietened for a bit after, looking into the fire. "My poor dear uncle!" he said with wide eyes and then he cried agin until he passed out cold.
Those were some dark times, passing a little like an endless, uncomfortable dream. They heard news only of death, even as safe as they relatively were in Dorne. It seemed to Duncan, then, that if they ever stepped on a road to north again they would find only graveyards where cities once stood.
Every man living under the Sun now lost family to that cursed sickness and the streets were emptier and the people quieter and the shadows deeper on every face.
Every man lost family. King Baelor lost both his children and his father and shadows are deep indeed on his face.
After Egg finds it in himself to not speak for five seconds the King pats his skinny shoulder and then looks up at Duncan. "Thank you for taking care of my nephew, good Sir. He seems to be well."
"He's a good boy, my king." Says Duncan honestly, smiling as Egg preens. King Baelor smiles down at the prince too, small and tired, but true.
"He truly is. Especially when he takes a second to use his head." Egg pouts, his mouth opening in protest, but his uncle cuts him off. "Let us sit, Prince Aegon and Sir Duncan, and regale me with the tails of your travels, if you have the time to spare."
They graciously accept the royal invitation. Duncan privately thinks to himself, as he looks at the dark circles under the King's two coloured eyes, that the man is in dire need of some light hearted stories that do not require any interventions from him. Just the adventures of a lowly hedge knight and his unassuming squire, traveling the country side and solving petty crimes.
There is a low table in the solar, surrounded by a wide couch, covered by a finely woven blanket with a few silk pillows on it for decoration and a grand armchair, made with rich, red velvet.
Egg takes the armchair gleefully, looking rather small on it and crosses his legs. King Baelor huffs, but it seems good natured, he flicks Egg's nose gently and then sits on the couch, motioning for Duncan to sit too.
Egg continues to grin.
Duncan sits gingerly, all too aware of the man next to him. The couch suddenly seems much less wide.
They spend the next hour regaling King Baelor with their adventures in Dorne, Egg speaking quickly and with wide, excited gestures. He seems to bask in his uncle's attention, encouraged when the King nods and hums at all the right times. Duncan only interrupts him rarely, mostly when his embellishments get a little out of hand. Or when he praises Duncan for the high heavens for some reason only known to the Gods and Egg himself.
"It was only three men and they were not wearing any armor. Just common outlaws by the roadside. And there was no lady involved." He says with a sigh after Egg told the harrowing tale of Duncan defeating six rouge knights in the Dornish desert to rescue the fair daughter of a lord.
"Though I have no doubt Sir Duncan is a knight of considerable ability, that indeed sounds more likely." Nods the King, his voice amused. That seems to be his way around both Egg and Duncan. "None the less I'm very glad we have not lost him to any outlaws or fair ladies."
Egg nods, solemn. "The ladies are the most dangerous, uncle. Most of them want to steal Sir Duncan, even the ones who've seen him bonk his head into every doorframe."
King Baelor blinks and then reaches out to pat Egg's head with a huff of laughter. "You had to be very careful then, nephew, to make sure he was safe from getting himself kidnapped by such ladies."
"And Lords. And knights. And Prince..."
"Do you want a clout in the ear, Egg?" Ask Duncan firmly, dearly wishing for the boy to shut up. Dorne was interesting in many ways and made Duncan aware of things in the world he hasn't considered before. That does not mean he wants Egg to tell all about that to King Baelor.
Egg shakes his head, unbothered by any interruptions or threats, and jumps to his next story. This one is about how Duncan insisted on helping the little children reach high on the orange trees, letting them stand on his shoulders, so they would be able get to the fruits they otherwise could never eat.
Duncan catches King Baelor's eyes as the man glances at him, smiling. There is something so warm in his gaze that Duncan feels suddenly flustered and he has to look away before he makes a fool of himself. He doesn't quite dare to look at the King again, but sometimes he feels that pair of eyes lingering on the side of his face, more gentle than the Dornish Sun, but no less blazing.
That warmth stays with him long after they said goodbye to the King and he feels his face burning even as he lays down to sleep.
...
In his dreams he is in Dorne, sitting under the orange trees, his feet in the cold water. He looks up at the Sun, high in the sky and the Sun looks down at him with the face of a beautiful man.
Duncan is eating some fruits, juice dripping down his chin and his mouth tastes like sweet wine and cinnamon and burning spices.
Egg is sitting in the grass, surrounded by kings of old and laughs as he tells his tale. "And you see, Sir Duncan wants to steal the Sun now, but he has to fight seven knights for it!" The kings turn to Duncan, judging, and he feels that he falls short in their eyes.
Duncan watches the sky again and suddenly it's dawn. The rising Sun is a man, it's blazing eye, a curled up red dragon, a crown made of fire.
The Sun falls into Duncan's palm and it's an orange and it's sweet as he bites into it, the flavour exploding under his tongue.
"You must have been very careful, my good knight, to return from your adventure, safe and sound." King Baelor says sitting in front of Duncan, his feet in the water too. The Sun is just behind the King's head, crowning him in halo of blazing light. One of his eyes is void and starlight, the other the green of forests that don't know winter. He reaches a hand out and his fingers are dripped in gold.
Duncan flusters so badly he wakes himself up, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
...
The next morning finds him leaning against the black castle walls, staring into the sea and the Sun as it rises slowly above the dark waves. The world is painted gold. His old man liked the sunsets, but they make Duncan's heart ache with a pain deeper and more secret than he can understand, so he much prefers the dawn.
"An early riser, I see." Comes a deep voice from behind him and Duncan yelps, so startled he is.
"My king-!" He starts, bowing, but King Baelor stops him with a raise of his hand, stepping beside him. Duncan watches as his King leans against the wall, peering out into the morning, his face bathed in the pink light.
He really does have such a royal face, Duncan thinks, with high, sharp cheekbones and strong brows and long, curling eyelashes that cast shadows on his cheeks. Even his nose, broken as it is, makes his profile more regal. He looks like a statue, kissed to life by the Sun and painted the colours of a thousand blazing sunrises.
Duncan shallows and waits in silence. Breaking it is the right of the man next to him.
"Do you like to watch the Sun rise, Sir Duncan?" Asks the King after a little while, still facing the sea.
"I. Yes I do, my King." Answers Duncan, his voice sounding strange to his ears.
"I thought your shield was painted with the sunset. At least I think Egg told me so..."
"It is! But. I had my old master in mind for that, not what i liked, really. Sunsets make me sad in some strange way, I think. It's the end of the day." Says Duncan, feeling a little foolish. Who gets sad because it's dusk? "I just like morning better, I suppose."
The King doesn't chuckle and he doesn't even look to be quietly laughing inside as he often does around Duncan, his face serious as he briefly turns to him. "There is some relief in that, is there not? No matter what happens, no matter what the night takes, the Sun will still rise upon a new day. There's always a new morning and life goes on."
His voice is pained and a part of Duncan wants to ask if his King preferred it wasn't so. If he wanted the night to last, time to stay frozen. He doesn't ask, but feeling more daring than he ever did before leans closer to the man, until their elbows are nearly touching. They stand in silence until the sky turns blue and then Duncan turns to the King and this time it's him who is laughing with his eyes.
"My King, I have acquired a new, very important skill in Dorne." He starts, his chin held high.
King Baelor turns to him fully, looking up at him and tilts his head to the side, two coloured gaze curious on Duncan. "Oh?" His voice is light and warm.
"I can eat spicy food now." Duncan says, all serious.
King Baelor throws his head back with a helpless, bright laugh and the world is painted gold once more.