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Blessed by the gods, their bloodlines chosen to rule with divine favour, they were imbued with magic no other mortal could comprehend. That was what the septons and maesters always taught about those noble lords and ladies born with wings. Magnificent appendages that bore on their backs and allowed them brief flight, coming in all sorts of colours and shapes. Some had wings larger than any room could reasonably contain, only being able to unfurl them in halls and beneath the skies. Others were small and dainty, soft to the touch and easily overlooked if the person wore a cloak. Some were as colourful as a rainbow; other times the feathers had the same colouring as a person’s hair.
The Starks bore wings white as unsullied snow with dark spots, which Dunk had seen with his own eyes during his travels to Winterfell. The Baratheons liked to dye their flight feathers yellow to match the sigil of their house. Lady Rohanne had enormous wings of a fiery red; the feather he’d taken from them was still securely in a chest filled with his meagre belongings alongside her braid. And if you pushed apart the feathers of the Targaryen wings who could come in all sorts of surprising colours, then you’d be surprised to find something oddly similar to dragonscale interspersed between them. Even now that their giant mounts had long since ceased searing through the skies.
Dunk wondered what colouring Aegon’s new chick would have. Duncan and Daeron took after their mother with her deep, dark Blackwood onyx wings. Jaehaerys and Sheara, on the other hand, got their father’s silver feathers, meaning that so far there was an even split in the family. No one had mentioned anything in the letter they sent him, so he would have to wait until he could take a look for himself.
He had always made it a point to travel whenever a birth drew near in order to give his squire the needed privacy for such an event. So when Betha had informed them all of her newest, and last (by her own words), pregnancy, he’d made the proper preparations almost immediately. Usually it meant that he would visit the Red Keep to guard either King Maekar or Prince Daeron for a few moons, right until the new chick had finally finished hatching and a raven arrived demanding his presence at Summerhall. He'd present his squire with his sword and gifts sent from his family to celebrate the occasion, and he'd present his old Ser with his youngest. It was mostly an old spiel by now.
The only thing different this time around was that King Maekar had asked for him to accompany his heir to Dragonstone for a while. In and of itself, that wasn’t an issue, but it meant that with the entourage and the proper rest, it would take a few days longer to arrive than usual. A sennight more, if they were quick and the autumn weather was kind to them in their travels.
Dunk ought to try and make it quicker.
XXX
Lady Betha smiled at him with all the grace of a trickster spirit. Dunk wondered if that was why Aegon had become taken with her so quickly; she shared his squire’s talent for mischief.
“You are late, my good Ser.” The woman asked with a playfully accusatory lilt, “Should a knight not pay heed to when their liege calls on them?”
Dunk raised an eyebrow. “And should you, my lady, not rest in bed so soon after your birth? It has been less than a moon.” It was meant more as a jest than an appeal, the knight thought. Truth was that whatever hardships she had gone through during the birth of her youngest, Lady Betha seemed to recover from them at remarkable speed. Her gown was looser and more comfortable than the intricate dresses she usually wore, and he’d be amiss to note that she was sitting when normally she greeted him standing. But otherwise she seemed filled with nothing but strength.
She tilted her head. “Funny, you sound much like my maesters and midwives.”
“I only want to make sure you are alright, my lady. I am sorry for keeping you and your family waiting.”
Lady Betha leaned back on the cushioned bench. She must have told servants to bring pillows and blankets to keep warm while she awaited his return; behind her, Summerhall loomed like a halo of comfort. “The fresh air helps me,” she finally spoke, “though I fear that any proper conversation with my husband must wait for later. The babe is hale and healthy, but smaller than the rest of her siblings. You know how he can get whenever we welcome a new chick, Ser. Especially if he fears for them for this reason or another. He’s been nesting for nearly a fortnight now.”
The knight blinked. “I can always return to the road for a while longer, then. Mayhaps I should visit Raymun down at New Barrel? I am certain he’d happily gift you some of his cider to celebrate the occasion. I would not wish to impose.”
“My sweet giant,” Lady Betha cocked her head, “I fear my husband very much requires your presence no less than I.”
“Ah.”
The woman stood up and hooked herself on his arm long before he could properly react, already half-dragging him back towards the castle. Her bench was forgotten in the autumn midday; she didn’t even bother to pick up a pelt that fell from her lap when she stood. Part of him wanted to argue that he ought to at least change out of his travelling clothes before going anywhere near the family’s apartments; by now he knew well enough that it would lead nowhere, however. A small mercy, in such a case, that he had decided to forgo any armour for the trip. Even if he got the time to properly stow it all away, he doubted that either Aegon or Lady Betha would be happy about any further delay. He loved them both, but by the gods- how impatient they could be. The parents resembled their children more than the other way around in that regard.
It wasn’t the first time Dunk had been called to nesting with them. He’d done it plenty of times with Aegon in the hedges when their travels allowed, and even more so once he’d been married and become a father himself. The practice in and of itself wasn’t even that strange once you got used to it. His squire had explained it to him very early into their shared adventures. That sometimes- mostly when emotions ran high -people like him who were blessed with wings needed to…relax. To let go. Rest their human mind and have the side they were normally bound to hide by etiquette take over. It meant they would hole up with their loved ones and just rest, usually in a nest built for themselves from whatever soft materials were available. Dunk still remembered the times he spent trying to find moss and hay for Aegon to build his makeshift nests, telling the boy to remain hidden for fear of being discovered. For what they had, it was surprisingly comfortable, though he doubted any of their roadside creations could hold a candle to what a royal estate could offer.
Lady Betha flexed her wings as they strode to the halls, instructing a steward or help or whatever-the-proper-title was to look after the gifts her good-father had sent for the new princess’ birth. Probably an array of fabrics for clothing and jewels for the mother and babe both. Their seamstress would be called in soon to make work of them. Perhaps she was already in anticipation. Either way, it did not matter.
Dunk tried his best to keep his pace matched to that of the woman as they strolled the halls. He helped the lady to climb the stairs to a tower; Dunk would have even offered to carry her if the staircase weren’t so narrow, yet they managed all the same. Finally reaching that familiar room at the very top, secluded from the castle and well away from any unwanted prying eyes.
The woman went in first, softly announcing both of their presences, before beckoning the knight to follow.
A large, circular bed stood in the middle of an equally round space. Despite filling nearly the entire space with its circumference, blankets and pillows still spilt over it at nearly every edge. Tapestries of red and black hung from the walls, both to keep the cold out and warmth in. It made the room seem darker than it truly was, though he assumed that detail to be done on purpose. Dunk could see an array of different clothing arranged in specific spots alongside all kinds of other soft things. All of which made for something akin to a mountain of plush against which the family rested.
He wasn’t even surprised when he found the tufts of Duncan’s dark hair or Shaera’s wingtips peeking out. If the family wished for him to be present, then it was only reasonable that their children had long since been called for.
And in the centre of it all, half turned towards them from where he had previously used his wings to envelop himself, rested Aegon. White hair loosely falling across his shoulders as he chirped first at his wife entering before quickly transfixing onto Dunk’s own form. The man smiled. “Hello, lad.”
Lady Betha’s remark about him having dropped the formalities for his squire while never having done so for her despite the countless times she insisted was drowned out by a satisfied thrill working its way from the man’s throat. Only now did Dunk notice that his pupils were blown out enough to swallow nearly all of the purple in his eyes.
He turned more, unfurling his wings as he scrambled up to make room for the new arrivals. Lady Betha entered without a second thought, beckoning for Dunk to follow. Once he was sure that no one took issue with him climbing into the nest alongside them, he did so too. Careful in the way he manoeuvred his overlarge frame so as not to hurt or bump into anyone on the way. Once he was inside, he felt his former squire press something into his arms. A bundle of cloth he had cradled to his chest before, the knight looked down and-
And oh, all breath left him.
A single hand of his own nearly dwarfed the entire breath of the babe’s body, tiny as the little thing was. Tufts of silver hair spread on her forehead as she slept soundly, only slightly scrunching her face at being handed over so quickly. Dunk couldn’t help but coo down at her, rocking her gently in his arms as he did his best. So this was his squire’s youngest daughter? He couldn’t help the soft feelings threatening to spill from his eyes. How terribly sentimental he was; he’d reacted the same way with every other child he’d been presented with. Tiny little egglets in his arms, most of whom had already begun to grow and were currently napping alongside their newest sister in their father’s nest. He could not help but peel the swaddling blanket of the girl back, freeing her wings to flutter in a flurry of soft grey. Neither her father's nor her mother’s colouring entirely, but instead mixed from them both. No doubt a fruit of their union.
Aegon looked at him with unfiltered expectations, eyes vying for praise and acceptance as they gazed upon his Ser’s form. Dunk smiled as his squire. “Your chick is very beautiful.” He assured him, “Have you two got a name for her already?”
Lady Betha answered for her husband, “We are thinking of naming her Rhaelle.”
A fitting name, Dunk thought. He told the pair about as much when he attempted to hand the babe back to her mother. Lady Betha thanked him for the praise with grace. Aegon, on the other hand, preened and chirped at his Ser. Something told him that his squire was far beyond words by now and had been for a while. It explained why Lady Betha was the one to greet him, at the very least.
Satisfied with seeing her old friend settled, the woman turned towards greeting the rest of her children. Rhaelle was snugly settled in the nape of her neck, small wings fluttering to show her content with being able to smell her mother’s scent. Aegon, on the other hand, only continued to stare at the older man. Dunked sighed before he opened his arms to make room for an old routine. He did not have to wait long for his squire to follow the invitation with an expression of great satisfaction, settling himself against Dunk in a way that would give him enough access to his wings for the man to begin preening him.
A full-body shudder went through the man the moment his Ser’s skilful hand began to pull free loose feathers and straighten those that had become ruffled. In a few hours, when the rest of his brood awoke, they’d demand Dunk to do the same for them too. He would oblige, letting them settle across him and tweet into his ear and thrill as they fought over the space in his lap. But for now all of that attention belonged to Aegon, and the man seemed unwilling to share much of it at all.