Work Text:
Maekar's sons were not known for being obedient, so Dunk should not have been surprised.
It had not yet been a fortnight since they departed. Dunk and Egg had made it only to the beginnings of high hills which would soon grow into the towering Red Mountains, when rumours of Maekar's youngest son having gone missing reached Dunk's ears.
Egg was back at the camp, where Dunk had him in charge of starting a fire as part of his training, whilst he tried to haggle with the few merchants of the small village for some clothes. They would both need the extra layers if they were to make it across the mountain. Hells, even Thunder and Chestnut would need a coat should they face a storm in their journey, he realized and began to scan his surroundings.
Dunk was making his way across the small market — barely more than a few stalls scattered along a muddy road — and was berating himself for not having thought to buy supplies in the larger, nicer market back at Ashford before departing, when he heard Prince Maekar's name mentioned.
He meant to relay any news of his father to Egg. Instead, Dunk learned that his squire had lied to him once more.
A face as sour as vinegar, a travelling merchant come from Harvest Hall proclaimed to one of the local vendors, before complaining loudly of the guards sent in search of the princeling. Bad for business, they grumbled on, as they blocked the streets and had all carts and wagons searched before they could carry on their way.
Dunk did not stay to hear more, nor finish buying all he meant to. He turned on his heel back to the camp, a low hill away from the village which had one of the few trees left in the area. There was a steady stream of smoke to guide him, but the fact that Egg seemed to finally be getting a hang of campfire-making did little to soften the irritation brewing within him.
"Do you want a clout in the ear?" Dunk said in lieu of a greeting and Egg stood from where he sat by the fire, blinking at him. "You told me your father said you were to serve me, then why is he looking for you?"
Egg's expression was serious. "He would not let me come with you. This was the only way," was all he said and he kept a level, expectant gaze on Dunk as he wrung his hands together.
"Well, I'll have no more trouble with princes as you know," Dunk said in a gruff tone. He stomped across the camp and stuffed the clothes he had managed to buy in the bag hanging from Chestnut's flank. When he turned to Egg again, the boy's brows were drawn together and if Dunk did not know any better he would say his bottom lip was shaking. "We'll send word to Summerhall so he can rest at ease."
Dunk recalled Maekar's expression when they spoke of Egg travelling with him, when he called the boy his last son in a quivering voice that Dunk never expected to hear from a prince. He had been too stunned to call on Maekar's retreating back and try to convince him, then.
Egg's arms on him brought him back to the present. He was trying to hug Dunk as best he could — his arms much too short to even aspire to close the circle behind his back — and Dunk put a hand to Egg's head, feeling the prickle of newly growing hair.
He had meant to say more, to admonish his squire for lying to him again and try to teach him a valuable lesson on honesty, but between the strength of Egg's hug and his repeated 'thank you, Ser Duncan', Dunk didn't have the heart to do much more.
The village they were staying at had no parchment nor ink nor quills for sale and did not expect any to arrive for at least the next few days, Dunk discovered after speaking to all the stall vendors. They departed the next day not long after sunrise, urging the horses to quicken their step towards the town further South.
First things first, they had agreed once they were the only ones on the road, Egg would promise his father to remain shaven to conceal his identity. Dunk would help with this, as he figured it would not be much different than shaving his own face every other day.
Second, they would send word of their wellbeing every so often. Dunk had insisted on this and Egg only acquiesced to the idea after Dunk accepted it would be safer for the letters to Summerhall to be sent in the hedge knight's name and be directed to a third, non-Targaryen party.
They bought what they needed from the market as soon as they reached the town two days later, guiding Thunder and Chestnut along the road by the reins as Egg spoke to the merchants. Exceptionally, Dunk took care of the fire as Egg sat cross-legged on the ground with one of the broken halves of Dunk's shield in his lap, writing.
"It's done," Egg announced and held out the parchment in his direction. He shook the thin sheet towards him as Dunk did not move from where he sat by the campfire and only stared at his hand.
"Read it to me," Dunk said as he turned back to the fire and poked at it with a stick. The flames were already well and strong and needed no tending for the moment, but Dunk kept at it nonetheless.
"If you say so," Egg said, holding the paper comically away from his face, his arms fully outstretched, and clearing his throat before reading in a grave voice which Dunk supposed was an imitation of his own, "Maester Melaquin — that's my old tutor — Rest assured the small egg is well, unscathed, and smooth as a babe's bum. It will follow the chicken as it wishes and send word when it can."
It sounded weird. They had spent a good portion of the way arguing over how direct the letter should be: Dunk thought it odd to be anything but direct, yet Egg insisted they needed to be as roundabout as possible to avoid revealing his identity should the letter be intercepted. Dunk did not agree, but also had little choice in the matter, since Egg refused to write anything unless it was his way.
"Can I be a rooster at least?"
Egg seemed to think this over. "We don't have any more parchment," he said.
"Are you sure they're going to understand what you meant to say?" Dunk asked for the umpteenth time.
"Of course," Egg said, puffing up his chest. "It'll be sent in your name, after all. I'll also stamp it with my father's signet ring so they can be sure it's me."
There was a long stretch of silence as Dunk registered the last bit he said.
"You— you stole your father's ring?" Dunk tripped over his words as he gaped at Egg and pointed at him with the stick in his hand. He had to hold himself back from throwing it at him.
"For emergencies!" Egg insisted, as if that justified stealing. "Father would agree with me on this!"
And Dunk should count himself lucky if he did not garner any more animosity from Maekar Targaryen than he already, surely, had. "If you say so," he said, glum. Dunk prayed the prince did not outright send an order for his capture once he received the letter.
Egg pulled out the ring from somewhere hidden in his clothes, brandishing it towards Dunk and explaining how it could help them in a critical situation, as if that would change Dunk's mind. Taking his silence as acceptance, Egg covered the ring's sigil in ink, pressed it against the parchment, held it out before him, and admired his handiwork.
They did not stick around the town to see if Maekar would or would not send men after them.
On the same day Dunk had the letter sent — an unnerving ordeal as he tried to remember Egg's instructions under the local clerk's impatient scowl — they had abandoned their camp and departed onwards to the mountain pass.
They encountered steep hills now, and dismounted the horses to avoid overtiring them as they climbed their way up. Still, the incline was difficult and their provisions heavy, or at least that's what Dunk said as they often stopped to let the horses rest for a while before getting back on track. He knew Thunder and Chestnut were well within their limits, but could not say the same of Egg, whose breath he sometimes heard become ragged despite his trying to hide it. If pressed enough, Dunk would have admitted he was tired as well, his body still not fully recovered from the trial.
Egg sat on a large rock lining the road's edge as they stopped for one of their many rests. Beneath his cloak, Dunk saw that he had a hand to his chest and seemed to be trying to catch his breath.
"Here," Dunk said, offering him one of their waterskins. Egg took it gladly, taking eager gulps, and Dunk laughed as he put a hand to his shoulder. "Easy now — don't want to drink everything up before we've found a stream."
Egg's eyes dropped to the waterskin in his hands, as if he were studying it. "How do we go about finding water, ser?"
They had travelled far enough that the rust red peaks of the mountains were visible in the horizon. Dunk pointed towards them. "Keep an eye on the cliffs once we're further up. If there're any plants growing between the rocks, it can help us find a stream."
Egg hummed in response. A quiet answer that did little to warn Dunk of what was to come, as Egg from that point onwards put out question after question, a steady trickle of curiosity that Dunk knew not how to stop.
"There are no trees around these parts," Egg said at one point, scanning the area around them. Whilst the road rose at a steady rate, the hills besides them spiked abruptly into towering, rocky mountains in the blink of an eye, leaving little room for anything beyond loose boulders and low bushes. "What shelter do we have if it rains?"
"I've bought a tent. You'll be learning to set it up one of these days," Dunk answered, already bracing himself for the next question and praying that it was one he knew the answer to.
Often enough, Dunk did not know how to respond. "What's edible here? Should we need to reinforce our supplies," had been one of those questions, uttered after they had spent a few days travelling with no town, village, nor any other person in sight. Egg stared at him in earnest as he asked and Dunk had to remind himself the boy was not only highborn but a prince of all things; the prospect of running low on food had been but a distant fantasy all his life and yet now it was terrifyingly possible.
Dunk had never travelled through this region. He had ventured through mountains with Ser Arlan, of course, but those had been covered in pine trees from which they could harvest nuts, had been cut across by creeks and rivers teeming with fish and freshwater. Dunk looked around, searching for what could serve as an answer. He saw one or two mushrooms not far from the road, but disregarded them that same instant. He had never been good at distinguishing which was edible, and even Ser Arlan had made mistakes that had cost them a day or two at camp nursing ill stomachs.
In the distance, Dunk heard the squawk of some kind of bird. "Nests," he blurted out and pointed to the cliffs overhead. "The birds here build their nests on the rocks. We can grab an egg or two if needed."
Egg looked at him skeptically, whilst Dunk nodded to himself, satisfied with what he had come up with.
"But how will we reach those nests?" Egg asked and Dunk stopped in his tracks so suddenly Thunder's snout bumped into his back.
It would be a long, long journey, Dunk thought to himself as he tried to talk his way out of the dead-end he had jumped right into.
"Should I teach you the letters, Ser Duncan?"
Dunk sat up, mouth already open to complain, but closed it again as he processed his squire's words.
They were in their tent, lounging about because of heavy rain. Dunk had smelled the humidity in the air the day before and ordered Egg to pitch the tent just in case when setting up their camp, and, despite it only being his second time doing so, Egg was quick to finish. The air had been cold once the sun set, more so than usual with how humid it was, and Dunk held back a smile when Egg all but jumped at his suggestion to layer their blankets and sleep together to keep warm.
He held the boy closer still when thunder rang in the night and he heard the pitter patter of rain against the rocks. The sound had been soothing and constant, still there and trying to lull them back to sleep when they awoke some time the next day. All Dunk needed was a quick look through the tent flaps at the muddy road, full of loose and slippery rocks, to announce that they would not be leaving camp that day.
A wise, safe decision, but one he was unsure of not much later. A day of rest, was what he had thought as he sunk back into the blankets — the rain's lullaby calling to him — and even motioned for Egg to settle against his good arm to doze off some more. Egg had other ideas. He sat besides Dunk, cross-legged, and did not keep his mouth shut for even one second.
Dunk humoured him for some time before telling him to bugger off so he could nap, to which Egg had grumbled that there was nothing to do.
"Should I teach you the letters, Ser Duncan?" Egg repeated, as if Dunk had not heard him the first time, abrupt as it had been.
"How'd you…?"
Egg straightened his posture, held one of his hands up, and said in a matter-of-fact tone, raising a finger for each reason, "First, you never offered to write the letter to my father even when I didn't want to. Second, you didn't bother to check what I wrote. What if I misspelled everything or wrote something entirely different? Third, you didn't know how to —"
"Okay, okay," Dunk said, clamping a hand over Egg's mouth. His whole face burned with shame; to think he had thought himself clever evading Egg's prompting at the campfire. He had underestimated Egg, or grossly overestimated himself. Perhaps both.
"There's no shame in it, ser," Egg said in a soft, entreating tone as he held Dunk's hand with both of his away from his mouth, his grip gentle. "As you teach me, I can teach you."
"I am your knight, squire," and as soon as Dunk said this he knew he was wrong. Egg was no normal squire. He was a prince, a strong-willed one at that, who liked to defy expectations and do as he pleased, and yet so much of what he wanted to do was somehow in Dunk's favor. Egg's steady gaze made it clear he would insist on this.
"Think of it as compensation," he said.
"Egg, you don't have to compensate me for anything," Dunk said, horrified as Egg pressed one of his hands to his arm. The one that had been almost severed in the trial, the one that would carry a large, mangled scar for the rest of his life.
"Think of it as my wish, then," Egg said.
"Are you pulling rank on me, boy?" Dunk retorted and Egg chuckled sweetly at his joke. He could not resist patting his head, smooth and just-shaven this morning as they killed time. "Are you sure? I'm —"
"Thick as a castle wall, slow as an aurochs," Egg completed with a smile. "I know. I can still teach you."
"We don't have parchment, though. And it's dark in here."
Egg beamed at him. He made his way to the tent flap, opening it just so that light filtered into the small space inside without any rain entering. Next, he removed some of the cloths they had placed on the ground to reveal the dirt underneath, and with the blunt hilt of his dagger began to draw some shapes.
"That won't be a problem, ser."