Chapter Text
Standing next to the open window, Lyonel watched the dark clouds gathering on the horizon, signaling an oncoming storm. He had been pacing his room for so long that all the candles had gone out long ago; and now he was enveloped in the darkness of dusk, with the storm approaching in the distance. A few days had passed since the tourney at Ashford Meadow came to an end, yet he couldn’t shake off the memories he had of a certain hedge knight.
He had only known Dunk for a few days, not even a week, really— but the impact the younger knight had made on him had been so significant that he couldn’t help but think about him every waking second. About him, and about how big of an idiot Lyonel was for making dumb choices and throwing around stupid proposals.
A bolt of lightning struck in the distance, though closer than the previous ones. Its light illuminated the entire room, and the thunder rumbled off the walls, just as his thoughts echoed inside his head. Lyonel took a small step forward to feel the breeze coming in through the window.
He knew people always thought he wanted to have fun and throw parties all the time, but who didn’t like having fun? Just because he liked to drink and dance and joke around didn’t mean that he couldn’t be serious when he needed to be. He was too flirty? Well, what else was he supposed to do when a tall, muscular man entered his tent? Charming without even trying, Dunk had managed to steal Lyonel’s heart in mere minutes; and Lyonel was supposed to forget about him in a week?
His mother always liked to remind him how his carefree nature would cause him to be heartbroken. Perhaps she was right and he should’ve known better than to expect Dunk to come with him. After all, Lyonel was too eager, had far too much energy, and knew he had a reputation close to that of a buffoon. But his heart was big, and he would do anything for those he cared about. He had been ready to die for Dunk. Still, no one, in all these years, ever took him seriously. That’s why he should’ve known better than to get disappointed by Dunk not coming with him.
He laughed at the stupidity of it all, roaring as the storm drew ever closer. It was a wise choice for the hedge knight, really. Storm’s End was dull and boring despite the efforts he made to make life there more entertaining. Besides, Dunk wanted to travel and explore the Seven Kingdoms, not tie himself to one place. To the Seven Hells with that, they could’ve travelled across the realm together, instead of Dunk leaving with his little squire. Lyonel didn’t even mind the kid, the three of them could’ve even gone together; but Dunk had completely ignored his offer.
Taking one last step toward the open window, Lyonel stepped onto the stair that separated it from the rest of the room. His mind was still racing, and the breeze had turned into a strong wind that rattled the windows against the wall. He should have closed the window then, or rather, much sooner, since not only was the wind whipping through the room now, knocking things over, but the floor and his feet were soaked with the raindrops that had slowly seeped in while he thought only of his knight. But he didn't care.
He started cursing each and every god he had ever prayed to, for allowing this to happen. For allowing Dunk to get away from him. Maybe the Gods didn’t even exist and this was all a big joke. His screams grew louder as the storm approached, and suddenly a strong gust of wind threw him off his balance. He tried to grab onto something, but the walls were wet from the rain, so he fell out the window, the ground coming closer and closer. The world began to shake around him, and then everything turned to black.
***
Lyonel jerks awake, startled by his dream and with his heart racing. He can see the early morning sun illuminating the tent roof over him, urging him to get up, but he can’t shake off a strange feeling of sorrow. He recalls having dreamt of being back home already; surrounded by a storm, as always. But he can’t let a stupid dream ruin this trip; he’s supposed to be enjoying the tourney before the fun is over in just a few days.
After taking a few deep breaths, Lyonel gets up, puts on a black tunic and goes to find something for breakfast. The main hall of his pavilion is now empty save for his cousin Gowen, who is eating already. The dirty plates and cups from last night’s feast have been removed; but empty as it is, the place feels weirdly gloomy, which doesn’t help Lyonel’s sour mood.
He sits next to Gowen and grabs some bread to eat. The young lad, staring at him with those intense blue eyes, is smirking at him for some reason Lyonel can’t begin to comprehend. “What?”
“Nothing,” he giggles. Lyonel raises an eyebrow at him, and his cousin finally relents. “You don’t remember what happened last night, do you?”
Last night? Of course, he remembers. Prince Valarr had led the opening charge of the tourney, with some other knights—Lyonel included—going against each other on that first tilt. After that, Lyonel and his friends had retreated to this tent to dine, drink, and dance, and Lyonel… Oh.
“No need to remind me, really,” he tells his cousin, who is still laughing.
“You kept going on and on about this ‘Dunk’. You wouldn’t shut up about how he broke your poor little heart by not coming to the feast.”
“You know what? Maybe I’ll have to think twice before I decide to knight you after the tourney is over.” Without another word, he gets up, grabs a couple pastries, and leaves the tent.
Not sure if he should check on the hedge knight, he ends up wandering around the main camp. He doesn’t even know where Dunk had spent the night. Was one of these tents his? Lyonel doubts that was the case, but he still doesn’t know where else to start looking.
It was true that he had missed the knight's presence at the party last night. They had danced together for hours the day before and had shared stories when their legs ached from dancing so much. They had sat and chatted about everything and nothing for almost the entire evening, and Dunk seemed particularly curious about the symbolism of the Baratheon stag and its origins. Lyonel was busy explaining how stags live in the forests of the Stormlands and how they shed their antlers each year when he felt Dunk's hand caress his antler crown. Lyonel realized afterward that all those questions must have been an excuse, because the next thing he knew, the knight was tangling his fingers in his dark curls and pulling him into a sweet and passionate kiss.
When Dunk finally pulled away, his face had flushed and his gaze was now shy; but a broad smile lit up his face. That's when Lyonel took off the crown and placed it on the man's head, then stroked his cheek, which made him blush even more. Lyonel wanted to kiss him again, but he realized Dunk was too overwhelmed, so he decided to wait; and he started talking again, unsure of what else to do.
They both kept drinking and talked for a while longer, and Lyonel could see Dunk was beginning to look more at ease again. He had even caught the hedge knight occasionally looking at his lips. But the night was drawing to a close and Lyonel was tired and quite drunk; so, and he will forever curse himself for this, he ended up leaving to go to sleep.
He had wished the other knight had followed him to bed, but Dunk was so wholesome, decent and honorable that it made Lyonel want to be chivalrous for once and not rush it. They had fought together at tug of war the morning after, and Lyonel could swear he had seen from the corner of his eye Dunk staring at him and smiling whenever he was not looking. Which is why Lyonel had expected him to come to his party last night. Disappointed, he had drunk cup after cup of wine, and apparently, as his cousin had said, made a fool of himself by shouting about his feelings in the middle of the crowded room.
He wouldn’t let one lonely night discourage him, though. He would find Dunk after the jousts today and they would drink and dance together again.
***
Taking his helmet off, Lyonel guides his horse to where Gowen is waiting for him next to his tent. On his way there, he scans the audience, which is roaring with excitement. He notices a tall figure among them, with a bald kid on his shoulders. Dunk and Egg, watching the tourney from the stands. Dunk’s gaze briefly turns to Lyonel, so he smiles and winks at the hedge knight, who blushes in return.
Once he arrives at his tent, he hands his horse’s reins to his cousin and joins Sers Humfrey Beesbury and Hardyng. “Tell me none of you heard a crack when Robert Ashford fell from his horse.” Lyonel says laughing. “I can’t have the lord of this place mad at me because I broke his son’s arm! On the first day!”
They’re laughing about Lyonel being banned from the lists and his parties coming to an end when a voice calls out to them from outside. “Come out, come out, little knight. It’s time you faced the dragon.”
Hardyng comes out first, this being his tent and all, but Lyonel and the others quickly follow. The owner of the voice is, of course, none other than Aerion Targaryen, wearing that ridiculous dark armor full of dragon motifs. The lad is known to be insufferable, and Lyonel doesn’t even need to wonder why. Hardyng, muttering something that the others can’t hear, gets on his horse and takes his place across the field. Lyonel doesn’t know the reason, but he gets a strange feeling, as if something bad was about to happen. It wouldn’t be surprising, seeing as the Brightflame brat is involved; but this feels somehow more like deja-vu.
Aerion proceeds to take his place, too, and their horses break into a thundering gallop as soon as the horn is sounded. On the first charge, Aerion purposefully evades Hardyng's lance, making the man in his gleaming silver armor lose his balance for a moment. Lyonel can feel the tension building in the air as the spectators hold their breaths. No one likes a cheater, but this one is a princeling, so there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Ser Hardyng gets another lance, but then everyone watches in shock and horror as Aerion impales Hardyng’s mount’s neck, and the beast falls on top of the man’s leg, crushing it.
Chaos erupts after the bloody encounter; and as much as he loves a fight, this one does not bode well, so Lyonel decides to find his cousin and leave the tourney grounds.
***
“Ooooooh Alys was a special lass…” Standing next to Lyonel, Manfred Dondarrion joins in and starts singing, too. They’ve been partying for a while, along with some of the other knights that joined them in Lyonel's pavilion after it was decided to end the jousts for the day because of Aerion’s little stunt.
Lyonel is so engrossed in drinking, dancing, and singing while everyone else applauds around him, that it takes him a while to notice Dunk and his little squire sitting at one of the tables, enjoying the party and chatting amongst themselves. Lyonel's mouth curves into a smile as he approaches them and sits between them. “What a way to kick off the tourney, huh?” he says, laughing.
Dunk and Egg's expressions quickly change, Dunk's to one of concern, and Egg's to sadness. "It didn't go very well—" Dunk begins; but Lyonel remembers that on the day of the party they had talked about the man's lack of experience with tournaments, and he realizes that Dunk is worried something similar might happen to him. Without further ado, Lyonel gets up, takes them both by the hand, and leads them out to dance.
At first, Dunk seems nervous and finds it hard to move, but seeing Egg and Lyonel twirling, laughing, and dancing around him, he quickly warms up and joins them. Lyonel grabs a mug of ale from a random table and takes a swig, then passes it to the hedge knight so he can do the same. He's not sure due to the dim light inside the tent, but he thinks he sees Dunk blush when their fingers brush against each other as they pass the mug.
"Let's sing! Do you know any songs?"
"Oh! Yes! I know one." Dunk's squire begins to sing in that high-pitched voice of his. It takes him a moment to recognize it, but Lyonel knows the song too, having heard it before at parties and taverns. He wonders where the boy learned it.
The truth is, he doesn't even sing badly at all, and some of the others are starting to sing along with him, so Lyonel lifts him onto a table. He then takes that opportunity to dance with Dunk, whose big smile is lighting up his face when he turns around.
Together they dance, jump, laugh, and twirl around each other, Lyonel savoring every second. The feeling of betrayal from last night quickly leaves his mind and he focuses only on this very moment. Egg’s singing and the sound of the others clapping fills their ears, and Lyonel can feel the warmth emanating from Dunk's body whenever they touch or come close together.
When the song is over, Lyonel shakes his head to clear the sweaty hair from his face, but a curl falls back over his eyes. Dunk notices, so he moves a little closer and, with his large hand, tucks the lock of hair behind his ear. This time, it's Lyonel who can't move, captivated as he is by the knight's eyes and his long, blond eyelashes. He remembers for a moment the first time Dunk had run his fingers through his hair, so he stands on tiptoe to kiss him again. But it's precisely at that moment that young Egg arrives and begins to speak, breaking the spell, and Dunk takes a step back.
"Ser Duncan! All that singing has made me hungry. Do you think we could go get something to eat? One of your sandwiches, perhaps?" Dunk considers it for a moment and then nods.
"See you later, eh?" he says, giving Lyonel a squeeze on the shoulder. Then he leads Egg out of the tent, leaving Lyonel standing there in the center, his mind racing.
***
Hours have passed since Dunk left, and Lyonel is still waiting for him. He's lost count of how many drinks he's had, and most people have already gone to sleep. Dunk has probably gone back to his camp by now, but Lyonel refuses to spend another night alone. Especially not after how well the afternoon had started.
After ushering everyone else out of his tent, he goes outside and starts looking for Dunk. He still doesn't know where the man’s camp is, so he wanders around the tents again, searching for it. After looking through half the camp, Lyonel sees overturned benches, broken pieces, and things scattered around where tonight’s puppet show was supposed to take place. He wonders what happened, but clearly Dunk isn't here, so he continues on his way in search of the other man.
He's about to give up again when he runs into Egg, who comes running towards him. "Ser! Wait!" the boy says as he approaches.
"What's wrong? Where's Dunk?" Lyonel looks around for the knight’s silhouette, but there's no one left outside their tents.
"Ser Duncan defended her—But my brother—And he punched him—But the guards came and now there's a trial—" the squire speaks so fast that Lyonel doesn't understand anything he's trying to say.
“Okay, calm down and take a deep breath, kid. What’s this about a trial?” Egg calms down a bit and starts to tell him that while he was watching the puppet show, Aerion Targaryen attacked the puppeteer, so Egg went to find Dunk to help her, but the knight punched the prince, and now he’s demanding a trial.
“Ser Duncan had asked for a trial by combat, but Aerion decided to turn it into a Trial of Seven. You must fight for Ser Duncan. Please, Ser, you must!” The boy has teared up while retelling the story.
Lyonel now understood why Dunk hadn’t come back to his tent. “Of course I’ll fight, lad.”
***
“Are you sure?” Gowen says as he puts the shoulder pads on him. “You could get hurt, even killed. You know that, don’t you?” With a sigh, Lyonel gestures to the bench in front of them and they both sit down.
“What do you do when a friend needs help?” Friend might not have been the right word, but he didn’t know what else to call Dunk.
“You met Dunk three days ago. Everyone knows you like him, but that doesn’t mean you have to die for him just because you want to sleep with him. No one would blame you if you didn’t participate in the trial.”
“That’s not the answer to my question. And what does it matter if I barely know him? Dunk could die if he doesn’t get the knights he needs. And the truth is, few in this camp fight as well as I do, so his odds would be even worse.” Lyonel sighs again. “Besides, it’s not just about him. You saw what that rat did in the joust yesterday, not to mention the mess he made last night; that’s why I have to help Dunk get the gods on his side at the trial.” He sees that his cousin doesn’t respond, so he puts his hand on his shoulder in support. “I know I always talk about how fun a good fight is, but you have to understand the more serious stuff too, if you want to become a knight.”
Gowen remains thoughtful for a while, but finally replies, “I suppose if he needs help, I’d lend a hand. Besides, I was there when Aerion attacked the puppeteer. Ser Duncan was the only one among all the spectators who did anything. He doesn’t deserve to die in this trial either.”
Lyonel smiles and pats him on the back; then he stands up so his cousin can help finish putting on his armor. Despite what they just talked about, Lyonel is still worried. He had prayed briefly this morning, before waking Gowen to request his help. Lyonel won’t turn down a fight, but from what he remembers from the history books, the last Trial of Seven didn’t go very well.
Oddly, he also remembers fighting in such a trial in the dream he had the day before. A premonition sent by the Gods, perhaps, to prepare him for the battle ahead? Whatever it was, Lyonel was not planning on dying or failing Dunk, either; so he tries to hide his worry from his cousin.
They are the first to arrive at the battlefield a while later, Lyonel followed by Gowen, who is leading his horse. Soon Beesbury and Hardyng arrive, accompanied by Ser Robyn, who seems to have also joined the young knight's side.
The color of the sky reminds him of Storm's End, cloudy and gray. At least it stopped raining some time ago, but the ground is full of mud. Lyonel is talking to Ser Beesbury when Dunk arrives, followed by Raymun Fossoway and Steely Pate. He’s not sure where he heard those names, but he’s somehow certain they belong to them even if they hadn’t properly been introduced.
Dunk doesn’t look very cheerful, a concerned expression shadowing his face. “Sers, I’m in your debt.”
“The debt is Aerion’s. And we mean to collect it.” Hardyng follows. He proceeds to say that Aerion broke his leg, but he can still fight as long as he stays ahorse. Ser Robyn also expresses his support, because he believes the crown is going against the Gods.
“I always knew you meant trouble,” Lyonel says as he approaches Dunk and smiles up at the big man.
“I cannot thank you enough. Nor Ser Steffon for bringing you.”
“Who the fuck is Ser Stevron? Your boy found me.” Lyonel points at Egg, who’s testing an axe way too big for him. “There hasn't been a Trial of Seven for a hundred years. I wasn't about to miss a chance to bloody up the Kingsguard in their pretty white gowns,” he says, chuckling. He's doing this to help Dunk, but at the same time this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance, and he’s not going to be the one to miss it.
Dunk leaves to put his armor on, and while he’s gone onlookers slowly fill the stands around the tourney ground. Lyonel chats with the other knights gathered there about possible strategies until Dunk comes back.
The three Kingsguard knights come in, followed by Prince Maekar, Daeron and Aerion; and everyone claps, though not with much enthusiasm. It looks like the Targaryens weren’t even able to find a seventh knight. Fucking losers. But then again, Lyonel and the others on Dunk’s side only make five. Lyonel is wondering if the trial will end up taking place or not when a man wearing a ridiculous armor full of apple patterns comes in.
“Ser Steffon, what of your friends?” Is this the man Dunk was talking about? Well, he clearly hasn’t brought any friends. So that would still only make six. “We only need one more to make our seven.”
“I'm afraid you'll need two more. I fight with Prince Aerion and the accusers.” Shocked, the others simply stare at him in silence while the Fossoway cousins argue, and Steffon reveals that the royal family offered to make him a lord if he betrayed Dunk and joined their side. What a bloody failure of a man. He ends up leaving, angry at his Raymun for not supporting him.
“We are lost,” says Dunk.
“Knight me.” Raymun kneels in front of the man. “I will take my cousin's place.”
Lyonel can see the little hope he has left leaving Dunk quickly. “Raymun, I—I shouldn’t.”
“Without me, you're only five. You cannot win with five.”
Lyonel decides to go over to them and encourage Dunk. “The lad has the truth of it, I'm afraid. Go on, Ser Duncan. Any knight can make a knight.” It’s then that they sound the horn and close the doors to the tourney grounds. “Go. I shall give squire Raymun his knighthood.” Dunk then leaves, and Lyonel is left to knight the man. “In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave,” He starts, while placing his sword on Raymun’s shoulder. “In the name of the Father I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women.”
He's knighted a few men in his service over the years, so this is not new to him, but it leaves him wondering if this'll even accomplish anything, considering how they won't even get to fight if Dunk doesn't manage to persuade someone else into fighting with them. Lord Ashford allows Dunk to talk to the audience, in hopes of encouraging a brave knight, and Dunk gives a heartfelt speech; but he's met only with silence and averted gazes.
It seems that the trial will end up not taking place, but that’s when the doors open to reveal Prince Valarr—no, Prince Baelor Breakspear himself. “I will take Ser Duncan's side.” A moment of astonishment, and then everyone starts clapping because of the prince’s brave and heroic act; which is funny because no one else here cared about Dunk, Lyonel, or the others on the hedge knight’s side until Baelor came through the doors. What a bunch of hypocrites.
“Have you taken leave of your senses?” Prince Maekar asks, enraged. “This man attacked my son.”
“This man protected the innocent, as every true knight must.” Wow, the first honorable Targaryen Lyonel had ever encountered. He had first met the Targaryen brothers at another tourney years ago, and Baelor had seemed cordial and kind enough; but Lyonel was certain it was all just an act to maintain his family’s image. “Let the Gods decide if he was right or wrong.” Baelor then rides his horse to where he and the others are gathered. Lyonel sees Dunk staring at the man riding away from him, too astonished to move. He almost seems smitten by the prince, the way he can’t keep his eyes off him; but he follows Baelor after a few seconds.
Lyonel would be lying if he said he was not slightly relieved the man had joined their side. He was a good fighter after all. And it left Aerion and Maekar seething, which was comforting. Hopefully that’d make them more careless while fighting and give Dunk’s side the advantage. Something was pestering him, though. Memories of his dream. He remembers the deaths of several people, and that worries him. He prays that they fare better today than in the dream.
Baelor says a few encouraging words and adds that he'll distract the Kingsguard because their oath forbids them to harm him. Hah, further proof that Baelor’s good guy act was exactly that: an act. Though through gritted teeth Lyonel has to admit that the man is right. They all take their places on the tourney ground, and Dunk still can't stop looking at Baelor; which makes the fact that the prince took Lyonel’s spot next to Dunk even more infuriating. He can’t stand that bloody asshole of a prince.
With both teams gathered on each side of the field, a young septon addresses the crowd. “May the Seven bear witness to our solemn and bloody offering.” The prayer is supposed to feel encouraging, but the fog that surrounds the place and the sour mood everyone is in makes it come across as depressing instead.
With the sound of the horn, Lyonel rides forward, lance ready and pointing at the Kingsguard in front of him. He doesn't manage to unhorse him on the first round, but Lyonel himself is still on his horse, so he goes back, grabs another lance, and spurs his horse to a gallop again. This time the point of his lance hits the center of the Kingsguard’s shield, sending him flying over his horse, and Lyonel could swear he hears an actual crack this time, unlike when he unhorsed lord Ashford’s son. Good. These men in their gleaming white armor are not invincible.
Without a second thought, he turns his horse back to the battlefield and scans the grounds. Dunk seems to be sparring against Aerion; but Ser Hardyng is lying on the floor, not moving, and Beesbury quickly follows him to the ground after being unhorsed by another of the Kingsguard, so that's who Lyonel decides to attack next. He unsheathes his sword and tries to land a blow, but the guard is faster than him and dodges it with his own sword.
They exchange a few blows, and Lyonel manages to make a few cuts and dents in the man's armor, but then he hears a loud scream and a thud to his right, and when he turns around he sees Dunk falling to the ground not far from him. Prince Aerion is standing in front of the hedge knight, withdrawing his sword from where he had plunged it into the other man's neck.
Lyonel spurs his horse to get to Dunk, but it’s too late, the man is bleeding out too fast. While he’s trying to unmount he curses the gods for allowing such a righteous man to die. Lyonel hears a distant horn being sounded, signaling the end of the trial now that Dunk is dead. So much for death sustaining life, or whatever it was the septon had said.
Enraged by the outcome of the trial and also by his own incompetence, Lyonel decides to take matters into his own hands. He is about to punch Aerion when a pair of hands pull on the antlers of his helmet from behind and throw him to the floor. The last thing he sees is the sharp point of a sword before it goes through his skull, and he can feel the world around him starting to shake before everything turns to black.
***
Lyonel slowly opens his eyes and looks around the inside of his tent. Judging by the faint light coming from outside, it must be dawn. He vaguely remembers having a very disturbing dream, but his head hurts like hell, probably because of how much he drank last night. However, it’s the first day of the tourney, and he should be getting ready for the jousts. He’s not planning on missing out on any of the fun, so he gets up, puts on some clothes, and leaves his tent to go find something to eat and perhaps something for his headache as well.