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Shiera leaned forward. Duncan could feel her breasts pushing against his lower stomach. “You should see the look on his face.”
“You are a cruel woman,” Duncan said without any hesitancy even though he was well aware of the rumors of her being a witch or even a sorcerer like her half-brother. (What the difference was between a witch and a sorcerer, Duncan was not well informed of or even informed of at all, despite there being ample rumors of Shiera being one or the other.) He kept dancing with her despite that. “If I get killed because you want to play a twisted game with your brother-“
Laugher cut off Duncan. Shiera had, apparently, found Duncan’s words so amusing that she had thrown her head back from gayness. What she found so delightful, Duncan did not know despite years of experience with Targaryen family. Blood Raven plotting for his misfortune out of jealousy was not humorous to Duncan. After all, Baelor could take his aunt to bed and live but Duncan was no Targaryen. He was not even a knight - not that such a thing would matter to likes of Blood Raven.
“I was not taking about Brynden.”
Duncan’s eyebrows drew together. He felt the urge to look about but did not for he did not wish to draw more attention on them. If someone noticed Duncan was paying attention to his surroundings there was a good chance the person Shiera was referring to would look away before Duncan could even notice their attention.
“Who,” Duncan asked.
“Perhaps he is afraid I will take you to my bed and steal your fealty,” Shiera mused out loud, the humor she felt was easy to hear in her voice. She did not name the person but she given away the identity nonetheless. She said he after all; there were only two men - one of which was still a boy - had Duncan’s fealty: King Baelor and Egg.
Egg would not have cared if he had taken Shiera to bed; in the boy’s mind, a woman could not steal a man’s loyalty for he was still too young to understand the sway women could have over a man. That only left King Baelor. Baelor who was not only a man who had seen many summers - though they were far less than the summers Duncan had witnessed - but a man who had once been married. He knew what influence a woman could have over men. After all, King Baelor not having taken another wife despite the many years that had passed since her death. The King’s decision to not take on another wife, despite the loss of his heirs, very much conveyed the influence his wife had over him even in death; though if rumors were to be believed, his aunt had accompanied him to bed on more than one occasion. Such rumors turned Duncan’s stomach. If they were true, Duncan hoped Shiera was drinking moon tea. After all, House Targaryen had fought more than one war over bastard children. Setting aside Blackfyre rebellions, Duncan knew the Dance of Dragons had occurred partially over the questioned legitimacy of Queen Rhaenyra’s children; her first few sons had dark hair, which Duncan learned while attending Prince Duncan’s history lessons, had caused speculation on them being bastards despite Princess Rhaenys’ own dark hair.
That lesson had caused Aegon the Fifth’s son to be distraught. The boy named after him had been tearful at the idea he was a bastard. Duncan had ordered the room be vacated before he gotten down on his knees so Prince Duncan could have an easier time looking at his face. He had soothed the boy and told him that he was no bastard; after all, Queen herself had dark hair. Prince Duncan Targaryen had simply inherited his mother’s coloring. The prince had still been tearful though so Duncan had told of him another Targaryen prince who had inherited his mother’s dark hair. Despite the many years that gone by since Tourney at Ashford , speaking of Prince Baelor had hurt. Duncan had pushed past the pain in order to comfort Prince Duncan.
“You are very beautiful, My Lady,” Duncan quietly told the Shiera as they continued to move their feet least they stop dancing. “But my fealty is not something to be stolen.”
In another life, Princess Daella could have bestowed that knowledge to Shiera Seastar. This was not that life though.
Shiera lifted her hand that had been resting by Duncan’s ribs - for he was too tall for her easily to rest it on his shoulder - and grabbed the stump he had had been pressing against her waist. Her fingers wrapped around the skin that once had connected to his hand. The skin of her hand felt smooth - too smooth considering how many summers she had lived through - but Duncan did not try to pull away from her.
“You serve my dear nephew well,” Shiera murmured. She look rather pleased. “Rather surprising considering he took your hand.”
“He did not.” Duncan immediately corrected. It was hard to keep dancing like the couples around them but Duncan continued to try. This topic left him feeling like he had two left feet instead of a left and right foot.
“My apologies,” Shiera said but Duncan doubted the integrity of her words. “I was told it was the King who chopped off your hand.”
“He cut my hand but it was not taken by him.” Duncan had given it. Despite suffering the loss of his hand every day, Duncan would gladly make the exchange again. What was a hand to life of King Baelor? What was a hand if it meant Aegon the Fifth would not murder so many at Summerhall? One of which was his oldest son.
“You are a rather queer knight,” Shiera muttered. He did not know if it was compliment or an insult despite being called odd. He was not sure if she even knew if her tone was anything to go by.
“I am not a knight, my lady.”
She shot him a chiding look. It was one Duncan was familiar with despite never having seen her direct such a look at him. “You truly believe my nephew shall be content to leave you without such a title?”
“Knighthood is not just a title,” Duncan argued. It was a responsibility. “And I have no interest in him giving me such a position.”
“When the King spoke of you after returning from Ashford Meadow, I counseled him not search for you.” King Bealor had spoken of him? “Nothing good would come of it. After all, no man could not resent him for taking his hand. Prince or not, it would not matter just as his obligation to fulfill justice would not matter in the eyes of the injured party.”
Duncan shook his head only to frown a second later. He ought not have done that. It would raise questions from onlookers. “I do not blame His Majesty.”
“His Majesty,” Shiera said, repeating back his words. She shook her head then. “Are you bastard, Ser Duncan?”
It was the Ser that made Duncan frown. He did not bother protesting again that he was no knight; Shiera Seastar was old - though Duncan not yet measured her years of life compared to his so he did not know if she was, in fact, older than him - but her ears showed no signs of such an age. She had heard him just fine the first time. To say he was no knight was to waste breath. She would not heed him. “What?”
Shiera tilted her head then. It caused some strands of her silvery hair to fall upon her bosom. “You speak rather knowledgeably for a hedge knight. If I did not know better, I would have inferred you were a knight who served under nobility for a lengthy time. My dear nephew though has reassured me that you were just a hedge knight before your title was stripped of you. That leaves me with the theory that you are a bastard of some noble lord before you squired for Ser Arlan of Pennytree.”
Abruptly, Duncan felt as though a skin of animal had been pulled out from under him even though he was dancing on a stone floor. She knew Ser Arlan’s name when so many had not.
Shiera kept talking, “My dear nephew believes in this theory as well. He has yet to bring it up to you. Despite his hunger to know you, he is rather wary to pry.“ After a few seconds she added, “One would think you were a horse he did not want to spook while riding with how hesitant he is to pry.”
“I am no horse, My Lady.”
“My dear nephew would like to ride you nonetheless.”
Duncan’s face grew hot. He knew he was growing to look like a tomato from embarrassment.
“Dance least we draw more attention,” Shiera hissed out. At her words, Duncan began to clumsily move his feet. He felt like he had two left feet instead of a left and a right foot.
“Your jest is cruel.” It had to be a jest. After all, the blood of the dragon never took well to another catching the eye of the person they favored. Princess Shaera had been rather cruel to any lady catching her dear brother’s interest whether if such interest was merely perceived by her or be genuine. When it came to Betha - back when she was merely Lady Blackwood instead of Queen consort - Egg had let his temper get the betterment of him when jealousy rose up inside of him; on more than one occasion his squire had made himself look a fool from letting his temper run wild.
“You think I jest?”
“The blood of dragon does not share,” Duncan said. He was now thinking of Prince Aerys and his possessive nature over his sister-wife.
Shiera cocked her head. The gesture made her emerald earrings shake. “You know us well.”
Duncan glared at her. “Make me the butt of how many jokes you wish My Lady but I will not you let slander King Baelor’s nature in jests for your amusements.”
Duncan did not care if King Baelor had interest in the company of men as well as woman or even if he was like Prince Daeron the Second in nature. Duncan was not oblivious though. He knew though there were many who would not hold that sentiment. If word got out of Shiera’s jest, it would grow like fire. After all, King Baelor had yet to take a wife despite the deaths of his sons. He needed a heir and had yet to search for a wife. Not that he needed to search far and wide. Many lords at court had tried to all but shove their daughters in front of King Baelor in hopes he might take their daughter as a Queen consort.
Shiera narrowed her mismatched eyes as she spoke. “He took your hand and you defend him from his own kin.”
Better him than Prince Aerion, Duncan thought not for the first time.
“He is the soul of chivalry.”
“How amusing,” Shiera remarked. “He says the same of you.”