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Ninth moon 221 AC
"Who the fuck invited you, ser?" The newly crowned king asked icily.
Great. How the hells he had bumped into him of all people Dunk couldn't say, but now Maekar's glare was all over him. He had fought with Lyonel for this very reason, when he insisted that Dunk came with him to the coronation. It was quite obvious that Pri- King Maekar would hardly have him be there, but Lyonel wouldn't budge.
"You are my sworn sword. You're coming with me. I don't care if he has a stroke about it and we get King Daeron the Drunken already," he had said.
Anxiously he looked for his patron, who had fucked off to who knows where. This crowd was insane and it's not like the throne room was small. So much for nobody being interested in the Targaryen ruler anymore. Well, there was the free food, he guessed.
Then why the fuck are you in my tent?
And ... there Lyonel was all over him again all of a sudden, coming to his rescue.
"He is with me," he said to Maekar with a big smile on his face patting Dunk's shoulder. "Ser Duncan has sworn his sword to me now."
Could you maybe say that any more ambigously? Dunk gave Lyonel a pleading look.
"Lord Lyonel," the king acknowledged the Stormlord making a face. "Of course."
"Co- Congratulations, your grace," Dunk tried awkwardly.
Maekar scoffed: "You think I won a prize, ser?" He looked at the Iron Throne with what could only be described as contempt.
"True. Ugly pile of trash, isn't it?" Lyonel interjected and Duncan wanted to strangle him.
Thankfully the king mostly ignored his antics and just raised an irritated eyebrow. "You better watch your daughter around him, mylord," he gave Dunk a sharp look.
Now that's uncalled for, he thought affected. Is it though? You're lucky that looks can't crush a skull.
"Guess you would know, but my Ally is only three and well cared for," Loynel gave back.
There was a strange converation going on between Maekar and Lyonel now with just their eyes, as Maekar kept agressively snacking on his grapes, and Lyonel kept roaming his hands all over Dunk. Sometimes he wondered what kind of backstory there was with these two men. He probably didn't want to know, so he had never asked either of them. Nor would he.
"You must excuse us, your grace, but I've got to greet Lord Tully. Fishy bastard still owes me a hundred gold dragons from our last bet," Lyonel claimed eventually and tugged Dunk in the exact opposite direction of where Lord Tully was standing. Naturally. "Nice new crown, by the way," he threw back over his shoulder before turning around and losing his false smile immediately. "That's the ugliest crown I've ever seen. And the last Aegon's was tawdry as fuck too," he muttered.
Dunk didn't know what the last crown had been like, King Aerys had never even worn it, but he had to agree that Maekar's was rather strange looking. Harsh with all the iron spikes and not much adornements except some golden highlights.
When they got into sight of the Tyrell host, gathering at one end of the buffet table, Lyonel did a double-take. "Leo you old cunt, I thought you died eight years ago?" he yelled way too loud over the crowds noise.
"Yeah, sorry to disappoint, Lyonel," Lord Tyrell turned around and rolled his eyes at his fellow High Lord, but waved him over.
Honestly Dunk had thought the man was long dead too. He must be in his seventies now. He guessed his and Egg's prayers for Longthorne's health back at Whitewalls had worked after all. Whatever Lyonel and Lord Leo where gossiping about now, Dunk did barely understand half of it. He had moved among noble circles long enough, but still felt totally out of his depth most of the time. Bored he wandered off to get a cup of wine and some pastries from the buffet. Reveling in the sweet taste of a plumcake he catched Prince Daeron staring at him from across the room.
I dreamed of you.
Dunk felt a shiver run down his spine. He would rather not deal with any more of the royal family truth be told. Clairvoyant or not. Thankfully Prince Aerion had somehow disappeard after the Sept's ceremony. Perhaps someone had been wise enough to lock him into a broom closet, Dunk thought spitefully.
A few years in the Free Cities may change him for the better.
That had not really worked out, had it, your grace? Duncan thought. The prince might have gotten better in hiding his cruel, violent and chaotic nature. But that was all.
Aemon was standing at the entrance of the hall, and the king's third son might be the only one to still have a friendly word with among Maekar's 'misbegats' as Raymun once had put it not-so-nicely, but the young maester was already deeply engrossed in talks with the High Septon it would seem.
Daeron was still staring, gods be good. He had seen the man pathetically drunk, dispaired, lying insensibly in the mud as promised, but now he just looked like he was about to burst into laughter. At his expense. And of course he was coming over to him too. Careful Dunk, he is the crownprince now.
"More wine, ser?" A servering boy offered him and Dunk let him refill his cup.
"Do you have no shame coming here?" Daeron mocked him in an unserious tone cocking his head to the side.
Seven Hells.
Dunk decided to make the same uncaring gesture the prince had given him back at Beesbury's funeral in Ashford. It made Daeron laugh for good. Obviously the other man was still extremely happy that for once it hadn't been him who had mucked it up.
All men a fools, all men are knights. When women are concerned.
Daeron's ladywife had come over too now and tugged at her husband's coat. She was waving an empty cup around and demanded more food and wine be brought to her.
"Lady Kiera," Duncan bowed to show his respects.
"Oh, it's you again," she said in a less then enthused tone as she laid eyes on him and Prince Daeron waved another servant over.
She was with child he could tell. Not too far along but there was a small bumb already visible under her dress. "No offence, mylady, but do you think it's wise to drink in your condition?" he asked.
"Condition?" She played dumb. "Oh, you mean it could be bad for the babe?" She obviouly was already very drunk, so Dunk's concern came to late. "Mayhaps, the maesters talk all kinds of shit, but it would have to live in the first place anyway", she said bitterly.
Prince Daeron made a face and said something to her in a foreign tongue. Bastard Valyrian most like. Lady Kiera was Tyroshi after all. She just gave harsh words in return and he could see Daeron fold as he always would.
"You stay the fuck away from my husband." She glowered at him. Scarier than any knife ever brandished in his direction, Dunk thought. Daeron just shrugged apologetically as he was forcefully dragged away by her.
Begone, Ser Duncan. Begone. Her first husband's words at Prince Baelor's funeral pyre would forever haunt him too and he might be as bad of an omen as any of Daeron's dreams to her.
"Does anyone know where the fuck Aerion might be?" Maekar's annoyed voice could be heard booming through the hall.
Well, shit. Dunk hadn't seen Aegon at this reception so far either. This didn't bode well.
"Psst. The king's sons are missing. Again. Wars have started for less," an all too familiar voice whispered into his ear from behind in a mockery of the past.
"Gwin? What are you doing here?" Duncan asked aghast turning around. She was supposed to be in the Vale again, from what Lyonel had told him.
"You are still big and stupid." She pinched his arse and Dunk had to stiffle a surprised yelp. Why did she always have to be so random? "Aemma wanted to come," she explained grinning. "You know how she is. She loves these royal mummeries." She rolled her eyes. "Just don't tell my lord husband I'm here, alright."
"What do you mean don't tell Lyonel? Gwin?" He hissed after her, but she already was quickly disappearing into the crowd again. Dunk shook his head. He had witnessed many strange matches in noble circles over the years, but those two had the weirdest marriage he could have ever imagined. And you chose to be right in the mids of it.
"Ser Duncan!"
Dunk braced himself for the next embarrassment that would sure come to follow. But when he turned around there was just Betha Blackwood standing opposite him with a big smile on her face.
"It's so good to see you again," she said cheerfully, holding her hands out towards him.
Lady Betha," Dunk gladly took the offered hands in greeting. "It's good to see you again too."
She wore a rich scarlet gown with a dark crocheted shawl and a golden hairnet with rubies, contrasting her beautiful black hair. His former squire was some lucky man, Duncan thought. Betha had grown so much from the insolent little girl that had vexed Egg so madly at Raventree Hall, and told him she pitied the sister that would have to wed him, when she had figured out who he was.
"Have you seen Aegon?" she asked, and Dunk had an uneasy feeling in his stomach again.
"No, mylady I-"
"Where the fuck is he?" She looked around in confusion. "I thought he was just behind me."
"I- I'm not sure the young prince would want to see me, truth be told," he pointed out.
"Don't be silly, ser. He has missed you fiercely," she assured him.
Did he, truly? Dunk had missed his Egg very much too, if he was honest with himself.
"We all make mistakes," she offered at his pained face.
That was a pretty big one though.
"Let us let bygones be bygones," she said and started to tug him along, looking for her husband in the crowd. Eventually she gave up though and shrugged. "Hm. Mayhaps went to the privy. That ceremony in the Great Sept was bothersomely tideous and drawn out," she said. "Now come, ser, there is someone else I need you to meet."
****
Dunk would still know most every corner of Flea Bottom, he was sure, but the Red Keep was just like a giant obscure maze to him, he thought, as he was led through many a corridor.
We are still both from King's Landing.
Egg once had tried to talk away the big gap in their social standing. But words are wind as the bards would say.
"Mylady? Where are we going?" he dared to ask after while. "Don't you think it better we go back ..."
But Betha just opened a door to her left side. "Is he asleep, Lea?" She asked when they had entered and the nursemaid in attendance shook her head.
"No, mylady, the little prince is up playing with his rattle and dragon toy," she said.
"Can you bring him please?"
"At once, mylady." The maid curtsied and when into the next room.
Now Betha was shaking her head, like she couldn't believe something to be true. "Still strange to think that my son is a prince now, since his grandsire is crowned," she explained to him. This made Dunk wonder if his own bastard son would be called a prince now too? That would be mind-boggling indeed.
Lea came back with a happy chubby little babe with thick dark curls and dark eyes in her arms. Though the right one seemed a bit darker than the left one. It reminded him of Prince Baelor and Prince Valarr. The boy was handed over to his mother and Duncan couldn't quite warp his head around the thought of Egg being a husband and father now.
"There my sweetling, meet Ser Duncan the Tall, the one your father has told you so much about," Betha introduced him presenting the little child to him.
"He- hello," Dunk awkwardly greeted the infant, offering his hand. The boy wasn't shy. He giggled and grabbed his digit with quite some force. "He is a strong lad, mylady, and very handsome. A good thing that he takes after his mother, I would say," he commented.
"Did you just call me ugly you giant twat?" A voice quipped up behind him.
He turned around and Prince Aegon was standing in the door. And it was Prince Aegon. Wearing the finest garments in the Targaryen colors. His sliver-white hair falling down to his shoulders, adorned by a simple golden circlet. Still Dunk couldn't help but utter the name that would be the boys for him forever. "Egg ..." It was almost a whisper.
For a moment they just stared at each other unsure how to proceed. Then his former squire's eyes started to shimmer with tears, like they had when he came to see him in Ashford's dungeon, and at his call he ran towards him and embraced him in a desperate and firm hug. "I missed you, ser," he sniffeld into his doublet and sounded like he was a nine year old boy again and not a man grown of one and twenty.
I'm a bit puny.
You will grow.
Dunk held him close to his chest, which Egg now reached easily. He was just as tall as his father the king.
"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Lady Betha let out a sigh of relief. "Come Duncan, I say we go visit your grandsire so he can brag with you to the court, while the boys talk things through."
"Uh- mylady?" Dunk looked at her in bewilderment.
"Not you, she means him." Egg pointed at he babe. We named him Duncan after you," he explained smiling, as he stroked over his sons head.
"What?" Dunk asked aghast. "No. But that's- that's not ... a Targaryen name." It was not even mine before you gave it to me.
"So? There have been enough Aegons I think," Egg shrugged. His wife gave him a nod and threw Dunk an encouraging look before leaving them alone.
"I'm sorry," they both said almost at the same time and had to chuckle.
"No- I..." Dunk started.
"I truly am," Egg affirmed. "What I said, the last time we talked. It was ..."
Oh that. "That I was ungrateful and stupid and had forgotton my place?"
Egg looked shamefaced now.
He had expected an outburst like that from Maekar and he had gotten quite a dressing down from the older man for sure. But such words hurt much more coming from his friend and former squire. "Well, it was rather ungrateful, and stupid, I'll give you that," he conceded. Ser Arlan would have given him a clout that would have sent him straight over the Narrow Sea, he thought. Maekar definitely contemplated it too at the time.
"Still I shouldn't have ..." Egg shook his head, like he could make the words go away with that.
"You were mad with me, and you had any right to be," Duncan said and tried to shrug it off. There were some things between Aegon's Hill and Flea Bottom that could never quite be bridged despite all the best efforts. "I forgive you," he offered. "Can you forgive my transgression as well?"
"Of course. It wasn't really my place to judge anyway," Aegon said and sat down in an armchair. He offered Duncan the seat opposite him. "So tell me, where have you been the last two years?" he asked curiously, bending towards him, patting his knee.
"Here and there. Storm's End. Mostly." Dunk awkwardly cleared his throat.
"Storm's End?" the young price made a funny face and waggled his eyebrows.
"Yeah."
"Ooohh," he cooed.
"Shut up."
"So the antlert cunt got his way after all," Egg said, leaning back in his chair with a grin.
"He always wanted me," Dunk shrugged, "and my luck with the ladies isn't exactly ..."
"Cousin Daemon would have been thrilled to hear it." There went a shadow over Egg's face now.
"Cousin Daemon?" What happend to 'Blackfyre Bastards'? Dunk thought.
"Well he was, wasn't he?" Aegon gave back.
Black or red, a dragon is a dragon.
Lord Bloodraven had claimed to have had nothing to do with Daemon's mysterious death and accused assassins sent from Lord Bittersteel. Dunk didn't know what to think about it, like most things to do with the strange sorcerer.
They had all fought side by side at Saltshore and defeated the Blackfyre threat again. With Bloodraven beating Bittersteel it had even looked like peace could be reached between the two factions once more. Aegon had made Haegon yield and the Blackfyre pretender had even given up the sword of kings, but then Prince Aerion had to ruin everything, like always. Bloodraven and Maekar had not been too heartbroken about it though and Aerion even had been right about Bittersteel being a flight risk.
Dunk would rather talk about more happy matters with Egg now though and said: "I can't believe you named your son after me. You wanted to give your father heart failure?" He was still reeling from that relevation.
"Not quite. But Maekar sure is a brat about it and just calls him 'the small one' instead most times. Not when my wife is there, though. He still has some will to live in him, I guess," Egg chuckled.
"Huh?"
"As in 'Duncan the Small'," he explained and shook his head.
Funny. And a bit mean. Maekar in a nutshell, Duncan thought.
"You know it was only half a lie when I told you I never really knew my father back at Ashford, but I do understand him better now. Being a father is terrifying," Egg added pensively.
"True. My own son is in more capable hands with the old man on Tarth, I think." Arse. That's exactly were this conversation was not supposed to go. Duncan winced. Dunk the Lunk. Thick as a castle wall.
"You were at Evenfall?" Egg just asked calmly though.
"Hm. The Lord of Tarth wanted to meet me for some reason." Probably to assess what legacy he had bought. "It was a bit awkward," Dunk conceded.
"I'd wager. How is Daella?" Egg looked concered now. "I have sent ravens to her, but she doesn't answer me," he sounded sad.
Splendid. Another royal relationship he had destroyed, Dunk thought. "She seemed happy enough," he said. " She really loves the island and the old man spoils her rotten."
"And you- her son?"
Dunk didn't quite know what to say here, but decided to not mince words: "Now that boy is rather unfortunate looking, I've got to say."
"Hey, that's my nephew you're talking about," Egg nudged his foot with his.
"Ugly as all seven hells, Egg," he insisted. He didn't even know how. Maybe he himself wasn't a prize, but Daella was a fine lass.
"How could you even tell. He is what, barely two?" Egg argued. "Father hasn't mentioned anything and he was on Tarth shortly after uncle Aerys death."
Egg hadn't asked Maekar about his sister apparently, Dunk noted. The gods help those two thight-lipped, stubborn men, that were way more alike than they thought. "Ugly grandson or not the king will need a bit more time to forgive me, I'm afraid," Duncan said. "He was very annoyed at my presence."
"Father has been in a horrible mood the whole week, because Aemon refused to join his Small Council," Egg waved aside. "He doesn't want to replace the Grand Maester and will go with Daeron to Dragonstone instead."
"Did he ask you too?" Dunk inquired.
"As fucking what? Master of peasants?" Aegon said with utter scorn and indignation, giving a perfect imitation of his father, then rolling his eyes.
A master of peasants didn't sound like a bad idea come to think about it, Dunk mused. "Who is going to be his Hand?" he asked.
"He will keep uncle Brynden. Apparently they have reached an accord," Egg said.
Strange. But then Lord Bloodraven had served the crown faithfully for decades now.
"I mean it was for sure not going to be Daeron," he carried on. "My brother is quite busy with his move from Summerhall to Dragonstone. 'Exchanging one tomb for another' he called it."
What the hells was that supposed to mean, Dunk wondered. "Prince Daeron looks actually pretty well put together today. Your good sister doesn't seem well though, Egg."
"Kiera? No she isn't," Aegon sighed. "She has lost four babes now. First Valarrs' twins and also two of my brother's. We can only pray that this time she will have better luck," he added.
"How is Daeron feeling about being the heir to the throne?" Duncan wanted to know.
Aegon made a face. "'Gods spare me' he said, and muttered something about hoping father will get to be as old as Aemon."
"What?"
"Apparently he had a dream about our brother where he was a very old man. And there was snow and ravens everywhere," he shrugged.
"Oh." That didn't sound so bad as far as Daeron's dragon dreams were concerned, Dunk thought.
"Well, there have been four Aegons so why not a third Daeron?" Egg laughed nervously.
You shall be king. And die in a hot fire. And wyrms shall feed upon your ashes...
Wasn't quite as funny anymore as it had been to Dunk when the fortune-teller made the prediction for 'the boy' back at Ashford.
"So Storm's End isn't too far from King's Landing. Will you come visit us at court from now on or even Summerhall when we are there?" Egg asked him expectantly.
Before Duncan could even answer Aerion the new Prince of Summerhall stormed into the room. "Why, you little wretch, you thought that was funny ..." he trailed off when he spotted Dunk. "You again?" he shook his head in disbelief. "I thought we had gotten rid of you for good."
Egg was grinning from ear to ear. "What is it brother? Got lost on the way to the privy?"
Really Egg? Dunk had to stiffle a laugh. So no broom closet then.
"You wont be so smug when I tell father", Aerion threatened.
"Sure brother, go ahead, tell father," Aegon was unbothered. "Might want to do something about the smell first though," he added snickering.
At that Egg's older brother stormed off again and they both could finally laugh heartily about the successfull prank together, being pretty sure that Aerion wasn't going to tell shit about it. Afterwards Dunk told more about his life at Storm's End and promised to visit if his schedule would allow it. Or rather Lyonel. He wouldn't be too pleased about this reconciliation, he thought anxiously.
Just then Lady Betha came back with little Duncan, who didn't seem so happy anymore and made his displeasure kown crying on top of his lungs, despite his mother's soothing attempts.
"Too many people around," she explained apologetically and handed the irate bundle back to his nursemaid who apparently was summoned by the sound of the crying alone.
"Aegon, my love, maybe you should go back to the feast, there was an incident with your sister," she said making a face.
"Rhae? What did she do now?" Egg asked alarmed.
"Insulted Lady Redwyne as a dumb, fat, old cow, when she was rude to one of her ladies in waiting. It didn't quite come to fisticuffs, but the king called her out by her full name," Betha told with big eyes.
Gods be good. When Maekar used the name Rhaenyra for his youngest it was dire indeed, Dunk knew.
Egg also looked terrified at the notion. "You hear that? I better go to help father, or his reign will be even shorter than the second Viserys'." He got up in a hurry. "And you maybe better go back to your patron, before he starts a revolt of his own."
He knew Egg was just joking, though more likely to happen than Dunk wanted to admit.
****