Chapter Text
After the trial, Prince Baelor spend a fortnight between life and death. Maester Yormwell was certain that the prince would die despite best efforts of every maester near Ashford. But Baelor had beaten all odds and on the fifteenth day he finally opened his eyes. On the sixteenth he could talk, but could not recall what had put him into the state. But over the next few days he remembered.
Although his condition was improving by the day, maester Yormwell was right in one thing. Prince Baelor would never walk properly again. He'd never lead troops into a battle again, ride a horse or even walk unassisted. Yorwell was at first certain that the prince would not walk at all, but a month after the trial Baelor took his first steps.
Prince Maekar and the rest of the royal procession stayed at Ashford during the time. The younger prince was swallowed by guilt, for it but was his blow that paralyzed his brother. He was even more volatile during the month, swearing and screaming at the maesters during one moment, then the other begging them to help him. He didn't leave his side until the prince opened his eyes and even then he spent every Baelor's waking hour by his side.
He only left the room when Baelor attempted moving around and walking, unable to bear the sight of his making. He had the best woodmaker around make a cane for him and send a message to the royal smith to create a brace for Baelor's leg.
Prince Valarr stayed by his father's side as well. He was a kind young man, much like his father, but resentment towards his cousin for causing the whole mess, towards his uncle for striking the blow and towards the hedge knight, caused him to be uncharacteristically sharp-tongued and bitter.
The hedge knight himself stayed at Ashford despite both Maekar's and Valarr's warning to keep out of their sight. He could not with clear conscience leave the man who saved his life behind. What if he died? What if he lived to hate him? He needed an answer to calm the guilt. He could take anything but the uncertainty of his Prince's fate.
On the third day of fifth month, ser Ronald Crakehall was sent to fetch Duncan and bring him to Prince Baelor. That was a relief. At least Dunk would know where he was standing.
When he entered the room after the knight, the sight surprised him. Baelor looked somewhat fragile despite his efforts. His head was bandaged, but that didn't catch Dunk's attention as much as the weakly twitching right arm when Baelor attempted to wave away the Kingsguard. He had to use the other one. "Leave us."
Duncan dropped to his knee, silent. How could this happen? A prince of the realm, heir apparent, crippled by his brother when fighting for a hedge knight. The world truly made no sense. Perhaps Duncan should have left Aerion take what he wanted. Then a hedge knight would be dead and a prince would be healthy.
"Rise, Ser Duncan." Baelor's gentle voice takes Dunk out of his thoughts.
He does, still quiet. He wants to apologise, to beg for forgiveness for causing this but he can't find the words.
Baelor is looking him over for a while. "You seem mostly recovered, Ser. That is good to know."
Duncan nods. It pains him he can't say the same about Baelor. "Prince.... prince Valarr let maester Yormwell treat me." He says quietly after yet another moment of silence. It was one of the last things Baelor said before fainting so Valarr obliged. Even though he looked like he would rather see Duncan dead.
Baelor smiles softly at the mention of his son. "He did well then."
Another long moment of silence.
"Your Grace..... I'm.... I apologize for what happened. You should not have fought for me. You are injured and the blame is on me." Dunk can't stand to look at Baelor's face. There's no anger in it, which feels almost inappropriate. He ought to be angry.
"I did my duty, Ser Duncan. You were in the right, as you reminded me. Every knight swears the same oath, as you said." Baelor's voice is almost sharp. "What happened was not of your making."
Duncan nods, overwhelmed with gratitude. He hopes he won't start to cry, because he feels close to it. He embarrassed himself enough in front of Baelor already.
Baelor lets him compose himself. "You are not to blame in this." His voice is much gentler now. Duncan doesn't remember it being this gentle before. "And I will not hold this against you."
"Thank....thank you, m'lord. You're too kind." Duncan chokes out.
Baelor only smiles gently. He seems tired. "I fear I must dismiss you now. But we shall speak soon. Unless you decided to leave? Maekar said you were planning on leaving soon."
Was he? The truth is Duncan wasn't thinking much beyond seeing Baelor alive. Or attending his funeral. "I.... I was not planning on leaving, m'lord. I... I will come when you call me." He spluttered, then internally kicked himself for it. "I... I will leave you to rest." He quickly fled the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Baelor was soon after in a good enough condition to travel. Not yet all the way back to King's Landing, only to Summerhall, which was much closer. Duncan was to ride with him, as after multiple conversations between Baelor and Maekar, the Anvil accepted Aegon's squiring for Ser Duncan.
It did put Dunk into a tricky situation. He swore his loyalty to Prince Baelor and was accepted. A sworn shield was supposed to be at court, protecting his liege. But Aegon would suffer in King's Landing. Or worse, he would not learn. He didn't want to fail the boy.
During the travel, they were riding at the back of the whole procession. Duncan could sometimes feel Aerion's heated glare digging into him, but so far the princeling didn't attempt to bother Dunk or Aegon so he left it be. Since the trial Maekar was always hovering over his second oldest, ensuring he wouldn't cause any more embarrassment to the royal family.
Aegon was presumably the only one perfectly content with his situation. His uncle's injury saddened him, and so did his father's changed temper but things seemed to be returning to normal now. And he was allowed to squire for a proper knight, not just Daeron.
It takes another few days in Summerhall before Duncan sees the prince again. On Maekar's order he's been training under Summerhall's master of arms, not that he could see any results yet. And he doubted he'd like to stay for longer. Court life seemed unnecessary complicated. He had to remember everybody's titles and most nobles spoke in what seemed to be riddles. Highborns avoided him for his low birth and servants avoided him because he was with a prince now. He never felt as lonely as the last few days.
But Baelor finally calls him. His condition is improving every day, thought he has to learn plenty of things anew. He's sitting in the solar. He looks almost healthy when sitting, thought he's slightly leaning on his left side despite his best efforts.
Duncan bows when he comes in. "Your Grace."
"How is Summerhall treating you, Ser Duncan?" Baelor smiles pleasantly.
"It's.... it's undoubtedly a prince's household." Dunk says as diplomatically as possible.
"Court life is not to your liking, ser?" If Duncan didn't know any better, he'd think the prince sounded concerned about it.
"Hedge knights are better in the hedges, m'lord." He shrugs, not wanting to complain. That would be quite foolish. His stay could be a lot more uncomfortable.
"Do you wish to leave then? I remember you swore yourself to me, but you needn't keep that promise. It was made in the aftermath of a battle. I will not think any less of you."
The prince is too considerate. Duncan owes him his life, he wants to keep the oath. But Aegon needs him more. "M'lord..... I'm more concerned about Aegon. I wouldn't want him to be.....to grow up to be like his brothers."
Baelor nodded, thinking. His brows furrow in a similar way as Prince Maekar's. "Are you asking me for a permission to leave, ser?"
"M'lord..... I.... I suppose I am." Duncan didn't want to come off as too daring or demanding. "If.....if you allow it."
"I shall." Baelor looks away, staring out of the window into the yard. "I have an inkling that you would not favour court life."
"I suppose not, m'lord. I'm not made for it." Dunk agreed quietly. He knew it wasn't his place but it still hurt. Would the prince not want to see him again? Was this their goodbye?
"But I cannot allow you to take Aegon and travel the realm with no promise he will be safe. That would be foolish of me."
"Are....are you saying Aegon is to stay at court, m'lord?" Duncan is opposed to that but doesn't know how to put it into words without losing his head.
"No." Baelor shakes his head, but has to stop because of the pain. "My proposition is that you bring him to court no less than once a year, so his health and safety is ensured. I believe my brother will be more open to the fostering then as well. Would that be acceptable?"
"Yes, m'lord. You are very wise." Duncan nods.
"Your flattery is kind, ser." Baelor smiles in the same mysterious way as always. It seems as if he's pleased with Duncan but there's a hidden emotion under the smile. "When do you plan on departing?"
"As………as soon as I'm allowed, m'lord." Dunk says hesitantly. He hopes it doesn't sound like he wants to run away from Baelor. But he fears that if he stays any longer, Aerion's patience will run out and one day Duncan will find himself facing another treason accusation.
"Are you so eager to get away from me, ser?" Baelor raises his eyebrows. Duncan can't tell if he's humoring him or serious.
"No, m'lord, I swear that. I.... I find court life.....very restrictive, that is all. I did not...."
"Peace, ser, it was only a jest. You are free to leave, if you wish to. I shall see you within a year's time."
"Thank you, m'lord. I... I shall do as you say."
There's a short-lived gleam in Baelor's eyes but it's gone soon. "You are dismissed, Ser Duncan. May your travels be fruitful."
Duncan bows. "Thank you, m'lord." He leaves, heading to tell the good news to Egg.