Chapter Text
There had been a thunderstorm over Kings Landing, leaving the land wet and cold. Baelor, who had been sitting in a council for half of the day had used one of Maegors secret passages to get some fresh air.
It was in the middle of the night when he returned, as it began storming again, lightning and thunders raging over the City. He was cold and soaked. Not a very pleasant feeling.
But there was one feeling he never did like to admit: Loneliness. Despite having two sons he rarely got to see them. Aerys and Rhaegel were good company but neither of them liked sparring or riding much, leaving him to go out alone (except for some guards maybe).
Then there was Maekar. Gods he missed his younger brother, who had distanced himself after Ashford, convinced it would be better after almost killing his brother.
Baelor did not remember much of what happened after he fell unconscious, but he did recall hearing Maekars voice more than often when he woke for a short time before the Milk of the Poppy dragged him under again.
His brother had returned to Summerhall alongside Daeron. Aerion had been sent to the free cities which would hopefully change him for the better, though he and Maekar doubted it. Egg and Ser Duncan had come back to Kings Landing, with Duncan sworn to Baelor and having Egg as his squire.
The same man now stood guard in front of Baelor's chambers since Baelor had told him he'd go to bed early. One can imagine the confused look on the Knights face when the Crown Prince returned soaked and shivering, opening and closing the doors to his room without a word.
"Your Grace?" Dunk asked loudly, knocking against the door, ashamed he did not see the Prince leaving. Did he fall asleep standing? Or did Baelor use magic to make himself invisible? Targaryens had weird customs, Dunk would not be surprised if he did.
He knocked again when no answer came. "Are you alright?" He asked worried.
Baelor, who did not want anyone to hear, opened the door quickly, shushing the Knight with a quiet "No!" before grabbing his helm, walking backwards till Duncan had no other choice but to follow.
"My helmet." He asked, annoyed by the Prince's behavior. Baelor smirked, holding it towards him only to pull it back before Dunk could grab it, taking a few steps to the side when the poor Knight tried again.
"Your Grace." He tried.
But Baelor did not listen, seeming to like this game.''𝑯𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝑬𝒈𝒈.'' Ser Duncan thought frustrated. Seems like he got it from Baelor.
After another failed attempt he gave up, turning to leave, only to be stopped by the Prince, who closed to the door to his chambers, standing against it with his back, the helmet still in his hands.
"Are you quite done, my Prince?" He asked.
Baelor smiled, holding out the helmet. This time though he let Dunk take it, but held onto it so he would be pulled forwards with it, using that moment of confusion to smash his and the Knights lips together.
Ser Duncan the Tall froze. His helmet slipped out of his hand, leaving it in Baelor's, who let it fall to the ground, pushing back.
Slowly the man reached up, opening his brown, soaked cloak, he had used as a disguise, letting it fall to the ground, revealing a simple equally colored shirt. As he began to open that one too, Dunk reached out a Hand.
"Stop." He tried but was silenced by a small "Tsk."
He let go. The shirt, now open, revealed several scars beneath. One big slash on the Prince's stomach, small ones over his chest. Dunk never expected such muscle under all those clothes but then again what did he expect? Baelor had been to war after all and enjoyed sparring from time to time.
Baelor who had noticed Duncan starring, lifted his chin up so their eyes could meet. Despite being almost a head taller than the Crown Prince, Duncan felt incredibly small under the gaze, filled with desire and warmth. A slight shiver ran through the Prince's body. Of course... he was still soaked after all.
Dunk had been so busy, trying to get his helmet that he had missed the shivering the whole time. Baelor started freeing the Knight of his armor, letting it fall to the ground as well. Once freed of his neck plate Baelor threw his arms around the other ones neck, kissing him deeply.
This time Duncan did not hesitate to kiss back. Gods, he had wanted to do this since he had first seen the man. Baelor had been so kind to him, being the only one who seemed to remember Ser Arlan of Pennytree.
When they broke apart again, Baelor helped him to remove the rest of his armor before leading him to the bed.
Ser Duncan stopped. He had sworn an oath. He was a part of the Kingsguard now and Baelor's sworn protector. Doing this would break that oath and who knows what would happen afterwards? Them both being men meant they would not risk in creating a child but if they were caught...
But Baelor's eyes, one brown and one violet made him forget the possible consequenses, as dumb as it was.
Both men sat down on the bed, taking of their shoes and pants. Baelor who had not said one word, freed him of his shirt, letting out a pleased hum as he saw the Knight's body, tracing a finger over his chest.
He allowed Duncan to do the same to him, leaving them both completely naked. Baelor's arms returned to his neck as the Prince wrapped his legs around the other ones waist, knowing Duncan would be strong enough to hold him.
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What had happened for the next hour was their business and their business alone. All Dunk could say was that they both enjoyed themselves and he had made Baelor happy.
At least that's what Duncan thought, judging by the fact that Baelor now rested against the taller mans chest, letting out pleased hums here and there as Dunk gently ran his hand through Baelor's short, dark hair, being mindful of the scar which luckily was mostly hidden.
"I was right about you." Baelor mumbled suddenly, so quiet he almost didn't catch it. "Right about what, Your Grace?" Dunk asked confused being met with a chuckle.
"I had your tongue in my mouth ten minutes ago and you already call me 'Your Grace' again" Baelor said amused before answering the question. "You do know how to please a man. Not your first time i imagine?"
Duncan did not answer. Yes, he had been with one man before. Lord Lyonel Baratheon. While nothing but lust had caused the act, they both still had a great time.
The lack of answer did not bother the other, who was too content in Duncan's warmth.
As much as the Kingsguard wanted to stay he still had a duty, so after another ten minutes he tried to get up, being met with a whine and an arm holding him down. "Stay. No one will notice you being gone. And if they do, I'll say I ordered you to leave."
It wasn't a command, Duncan knew that, but the small whine the Crown Prince had let out as he had tried to leave was command enough for him to stay, keeping Baelor warm.
After a while he heard Baelor's breath even out, meaning the Prince had fallen asleep. Duncan looked down at the older man in his arms, who was nuzzled into his chest, leaning into the hand in his hair. He looked younger in his sleep, no visible stress on his face or any indication of exhaustion were visible on his face. Just pure bliss.
He had watched the Prince closely these last few months, learning his expressions, to always know what he was feeling.
When he was angry he did not show it directly, but Duncan had seen him gripping whatever was near him, whenever he was. His shoulders would fall when sad and he played with the rings on his fingers when nervous or bored.
Another thing he learned was that Baelor valued physical touch. More than once he had laid a hand on another persons shoulder or back. Sometimes he saw him holding onto one of his brothers arms when they were talking and even at Ashford he had noticed how close he often stood next to Maekar.
Sadly that had changed. Maekar barely came to visit, which he noticed made Baelor slightly more...sad? Was that the right way to describe it? One thing was sure: He loved his family.
Yet he had found out another thing. That man really liked having his hair stroked.
And now he had taken a liking to Duncan as well. Was it love? Perhaps. Maybe it was simple lust. Gods, he hoped it was love.
Baelor did not snore. Of course he didn't. ''𝑬𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒕. 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑.'' Dunk thought to himself, scoffing slightly. After a few minutes of staring at the wall above him he finally allowed himself to close his eyes, falling into a dreamless sleep.