Chapter Text
"House Tyrell. Ser Arlan often spoke of his time in your service as his very finest," Dunk said, trying to keep his voice steady. Lord Tyrell looked up at him and paused his carving; the bald man who had come up beside him had dropped the bottle he was carrying.
"What is your name, Ser?"
"Dunk—Duncan, milord." Dunk said. Lord Tyrell stood, his man helping.
"He looks exactly like—" the man said. Lord Tyrell nodded, Dunk kept his eyes down, he didn't know what he had done wrong. Egg looked confused too; he'd grabbed Dunk's cloak and was worrying with it.
"Your shirt, ser, remove it this instant!" Lord Tyrell commanded.
"That is undignified, my lord!" Egg cried, but Dunk didn't listen to Lord Tyrell's response; he just grabbed Egg under his arm and ran. Egg was yelling insults as they ran, but Dunk didn't really hear them.
"Seize that man! Stop him!" Lord Tyrell called. Duncan didn't stop, he mounted up on Thunder, put Egg in front of him, and kicked him into a gallop. He just needed to get to the camp, to get Chestnut and Sweetfoot and get gone.
"What was that, Ser?" Egg demanded, when they'd finally lost them
"I don't know," Dunk said, pulling Thunder off the side of the road as the Targaryen party rode by, Egg curled closer to him, hiding his face. Dunk could not help but feel he knew Lord Tyrell. When he and Ser Arlan had served at Highgarden, Dunk had never seen the man, nor any of his children, had mostly stayed outside with the rest of the freeriders and hangers-on. But he could not help but think there was something he was forgetting.
He knew he'd forgotten most of his childhood, but that wasn't unusual in Flea Bottom, hard knocks on the head and the like were common. Dunk the lunk, thick as a castle wall couldn’t manage to keep a thought in his head long enough to remember. He remembered gardens sometimes but that was impossible in Flea Bottom. He was just glad he hadn’t forgotten Rafe. Ser Arlan always clouted him about his memory too.
"He should not have asked you that!" Egg sounded indignant. "What does it matter that you have a wine stain birth mark on your back? It's not a crime, Lord Bloodraven has one and nobody asks him to disrobe!"
"I know that. What did you know about it?" Dunk asked.
"I had to make sure your clothes were set out after washing, Ser! Don't be ashamed!" Egg said. Dunk felt himself warm a little. Ser Arlan hadn't been superstitious, but even he'd been a little wary of such a mark.
"Aye well," Dunk said, sighing, "but I still need a lord to vouch for me." though the banners had given him an idea, perhaps—
"You are a knight of the realm, ser. You can say fuck their permission. Ride into the lists, call out Longthorn Tyrell, and turn his arsehole into a lancehole."
"That's enough, Egg, Lord Tyrell is the best jouster to ever live! We will just have to be careful not to let Lord Tyrell or his men spot us. I have an idea but let's get back to camp first."
"You have another choice. Whether it is a better one or a worse one, I cannot say. And so, I ask you again, Ser Duncan the Tall, how good a knight are you, truly?" Prince Baelor asked him, his eyes flashing in the firelight. Dunk did not know truly, surely not as good as Prince Aerion, that was even if the court ruled allowed him to speak at all.
"Your grace," Dunk said quietly, "Which lords will judging me be?"
"That is wise of you ask Ser," the Prince replied, twisting his rings. "Myself, my brother, Lord Ashford, and his liege Lord Tyrell. Aerion will not be included on the court, but present as your accuser."
Dunk's stomach dropped. "Your grace, perhaps it might be best if you just took my hand now."
"Ser?" Prince Baelor sounded puzzled. "I can assure you that, no matter how well-trained Aerion is, if you are armed properly, your reach alone will provide an advantage. Besides, Aegon knows his brother's weaknesses and is more likely than not to provide that information to you."
Dunk didn't know how to say it, that he doubted Lord Tyrell would even let him have a trial and would likely demand him stripped and beaten first before he could even face the Prince in combat. He did not know how he had offended the man, but Egg had heard whispers that the Tyrells were looking for a Ser Duncan who matched Dunk's description. Lord Tyrell's brother, Ser Bertrand the Bold, was leading the searches himself, and they offered twenty gold dragons just for information.
"I think," Duncan paused. The Prince gave him an expectant look. "Lord Tyrell asked me—" Dunk cut himself off, how could he say it to Prince Baelor!
"Whatever you confess to me, Ser, I swear by the Seven I shall not betray it," the Prince swore, grasping Duncan's forearm in his own, clasping it tight. He led them back to the seats they had abandoned and urged Dunk to drink, Dunk did, and steeled himself.
"Lord Tyrell asked me to strip when I asked him to vouch for me. And when I refused he ordered his men to seize and chase me," Dunk said miserably, he couldn't meet the Prince's eyes.
"He what." Prince Baelor said, and it did not sound like a question. Dunk looked up under his lashes and the Prince's face was enraged.
"So, um, you see why I can't have the trial, your grace, not with him judging." Dunk said.
"You have no notion of what he wanted from you?" Baelor asked, his rings twisting round and round.
"None, your grace, Ser Arlan served him, but I never met the man as a squire and I've not stolen anything from him."
"I rather doubt it was your character he was much concerned with, Ser." The Prince paused for a moment, as he seemed to be gathering himself and taking a large breath. "What do you know of my grandfather, King Aegon the Unworthy?"
Dunk's brows pushed together, what did— he had to trust the Prince, Ser Arlan would not have led him astray, and Prince Baleor had proven himself to be the soul of chivalry. "Not much, your grace, was he not well liked amongst us in Flea Bottom." The Prince let out a humorless laugh
"That is rather kind phrasing, you needn't fear offending me. I know what my grandfather was."
"Ser Arlan had told me that ‘Fire and Blood’were the words of House Targaryen, but your grandfather should have had ‘bathe her and brought her to my bed’," Dunk said, staring at the Prince. Baelor let out another of those laughs. Dunk wanted to make him laugh for real, even if now was not the time for such thoughts.
"Yes, I have heard that said and sung. I believe Lord Tyrell harboured similar thoughts towards you."
"Me!" Dunk exclaimed, "But I'm not a maiden or—"
"I have heard troubling reports of Lord Tyrell's tastes, that I did not give credence to till now, years ago I had heard of him seeking out young boys but you are older than the rumors said. I had dismissed it as slander, the Tyrells have many enemies. But this clearly can not go unaddressed.”
"I've been accused of kidnapping one prince and striking another, there is nothing I can do or say," Dunk stuttered out, "Lord Tyrell holds my life in his hands."
"He does not sit in judgement alone," Baelor said. "I will not allow you to be harmed if it is in my power to prevent it. You must face judgement for what was done to Aerion but he cannot compel you to his service or his bed."
"You don't understand," Dunk said, the Prince raised his brows and gave him such a look, but Duncan continued, "I'm just a hedge knight, there is no one who would vouch for me or even care if I died, save Egg, perhaps, but he's just a boy and will likely soon forget, even if I win, what is to stop him from taking me after?"
"I would. Swear yourself to me!" Baelor said, with such fervour that Dunk nearly flinched.
"Your grace?"
"I will not compel you, but I need good men, the realm needs good men. You have proven yourself the truest knight in the realm, Aegon loves you already-"
"Your grace, we've spoken but once, I'm not worthy of such an honour." Dunk said,but his heart was beating so fast. Could it be true? Did the Prince really think he was worthy? Prince Baelor must have known hundreds or thousands of knights how could Dunk compare to any of them.
"You faced me without fear, you defended the innocent, you took in Aegon when you thought he was just an orphan, what else could I ask of a man of mine?" The Prince's mismatched eyes were shining, he was so close to Dunk now, he was looking at Dunk's lips, and Dunk could not stop himself. He kissed the Prince. Baelor kissed him back hard, biting his lip, before pulling back. He studied Dunk.
"Ser, I will not deny I have thought of you in my bed since I first saw you, but now I wish for more than your body. I would have your heart as well, though I am not worthy of it." Dunk felt himself turn red.
"I am not worthy of you, you saved the realm, you're so kind and noble."
"What kindness and what nobility is there in doing what is easy. What do I lose by not taking a ransom or offering a hedge knight some favour so he may joust? You, Ser, have risked everything to defend the innocent. No, you are the true knight, I will not compel you nor command your heart or loyalty, but I will earn them should you swear yourself. I will ensure your vows provide you the freedom to have your own will, and to countermand mine in regards to your own person."
"Aye, can I kiss you again?" Dunk asked, because words were wind and he could feel the prince in his arms, warm and willing and wonderful. Baelor laughed again, something sweet and true, and kissed Dunk instead.
Dunk didn't know how long they kissed for, or quite how his tunic had been lost, but Baelor did slowly, reluctantly pull away.
"I shall assume you are my man then." The Prince said, straightening his houppelande. Dunk was too dazed to anything but nodded. "Excellent! Very well, it's near the hour of the eel when the trial shall start. You are mine now, Ser, and I shall defend you against Aerion and Lord Tyrell. You shall have your trial, as you are entitled to as a knight, and as your liege I have a duty to take your part."
Dunk felt his heart drop again. He had lied to the Prince, had forsworn himself. Was he any better than Aerion or Lord Tyrell?
"Why the frown, Ser Duncan? Is all well? Prince Baelor looked concerned, his hands twitched before he began twisting his rings again.
“I am your man, your grace, don’t doubt that.” Dunk said, but his heart was sinking, had to tell him.
“Then what my knight? Did my kisses please you so little?" the Prince asked, leaning against his desk studying Dunk.
"I'm not a knight, Ser Arlan died ‘fore he could knight me, I lied, I'm sorry, but I—"
"What do words matter in comparison to your deeds? No, I shall knight you now, and it will trouble us no longer," Baelor said with a wave of his hands. relief crashed into Dunk as he fell to his knees before Baelor. Baelor drew his knife.
"Unconventional, but I suppose you are rather an unconventional knight. But mine, none the less." Prince Baelor smiled down at him, and placed his knife on Dunk's right shoulder, "Duncan the Tall."
"Just Dunk," Dunk interrupted and Baelor raised a brow, "Egg, sorry, Prince Aegon thought ‘Duncan the Tall’ sounded more knightly." Baelor laughed again , full of joy.
"Dunk, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?"
"Aye. I do swear," Dunk said solemnly. Baelor moved the knife to his left shoulder.
"I should command you to rise but a sight you make on your knees for me," the Prince sighed, and Dunk felt himself stir in his breeches. The Prince at least seemed to have a similar problem. "Gods damn this trial." Dunk let out a laugh, "Arise, Ser, but I assure you we will attend to this later."
"I shall look forward to rising to the challenge of your grace." Dunk said.
"Baelor, you must call me Baelor, I shall not have my—" he paused, "man, refer to me so formally when we are alone."
"Aye," Dunk agreed, and paused. "If Lord Tyrell does press me at the Trial?"
"Why should you fear a rose now, you are under my wing, my protection."
"What, because you are a dragon like your sigil?
"If I was a dragon I'd have flown off with you as soon as I saw you and hoarded you somewhere safe. But, alas, I am but a prince and you are my man, that shall be enough."
Dunk laughed, and Baelor kissed him and gave him a mock slap.
"Lord Tyrell is a coward, he will only act when he knows he can win for all his proclaimed honor. He did not ride to Redgrass for either side. What man does not choose to stand?" Baelor growled. "No, the biggest danger is Maekar, that he will want revenge for the insult done to Aerion, but if Daeron recants, perhaps we can mitigate his demands. After all, you are my man now."
"Til my dying day," Dunk agreed. Baelor gave him a blinding smile and straightened Dunk's tunic, muttering quietly about new clothes that Dunk chose not to listen to. Baelor pushed open the door.
"Uncle!" Egg cried, he was standing and glaring at Ser Willem. Dunk almost felt bad for the knight, Egg's expression was fierce. "Ser Duncan, you're alright!"
"Of course I'm alright!" Dunk said, holding Egg's shoulders and kneeling down to look at him, "What did you think your uncle would do to me?"
Egg's face was mutinous. "I didn't know Kepus was so mad! And Daeron lied!"
"Your uncle has taken me into his service," Dunk said. Ser Willem startled at the corner of his eye. Dunk looked up at Baelor and he was smiling at him.
"Truly, Uncle?" Egg smiled at both of them, "Can I come to the trial?"
Baelor smiled at him. "Indeed, but first you must fetch Daeron and see if he might reconsider his story."
Egg's face went feral and he took off at a dead run.
"Well, that should at least weaken Maekar's case." Baelor said satisfied as a cat. "Ser Willem, I have taken Ser Duncan into my service, you needn't look so worried. Now we must go to this trial."
It was odd walking down the halls at the side of a Prince, Dunk was not sure if he liked it. The hall cleared in front of them, and people bowed and eyed Dunk strangely, but Baelor faced it all with a placid smile, he seemed to float above it all. Dunk felt like he was being stabbed, but he tried to follow Baelor's lead. It seemed to take an age to get to the chamber. Dunk was getting more and more anxious, his stomach twisted in knots, to have to face Aerion and Lord Tyrell.
"Trust me, Ser," Baelor whispered before they entered, and Dunk nodded, trying to keep his apprehension off his face. Baelor searched his face and nodded at what he saw there, he seemed to wish to touch Dunk, and Dunk wished to touch him as well, but they could not. Baelor turned to Ser Willem. "Let Aegon in when he comes." Ser Willem nodded. Baelor continued: "Announce us, I am ready."
"Prince Baelor Targaryen, firstborn son of King Daeron the Good. Prince of Dragonstone, Hand of the King and heir to the Iron Throne, and the accused, Ser Duncan the Tall."
Prince Maekar's face made several strange expressions. Dunk didn't quite understand, but it was easier to look at him than at Lord Tyrell or Prince Aerion. Dunk heard a sharp intake of breath and a chair slamming into the floor. Lord Tyrell was on his feet.
"Take off that man's shirt this instant! The trial can not continue!" Lord Tyrell demanded. Dunk flinched.
"My lord! Such behavior is not benefiting a knight or Lord Paramount!"
"What the fuck?" Prince Maekar demanded, and Dunk swore he heard Prince Aerion snicker.
"You do not understand, any of you.” Lord Tyrell said, he sounded sad? And Dunk couldn't shake the feeling he knew his voice. “I have reason to believe Ser Duncan is my son.”
What? That wasn't possible, Dunk had always thought he'd been born in Flea Bottom, what did forgetting ten years of that matter when he had Rafe, and they had to focus on staying alive?
"You're his fucking what? Is that why you dared to strike a Prince you thought your father's name would save you?" Maekar snarled coming around the table looking as though he meant to strike Dunk himself. Aerion looked gleeful.
"No, your grace!" Dunk said "I don't know what he's speaking of, Prince Aerion was hurting Tanselle and Egg was scared I just wanted it to stop! Is that not what knight’s are supposed to do!"
"This is not a matter to be discussed in mixed company," Baelor said. He had not left Dunk's side, and though they were not touching, Dunk felt warmed by his presence all the same. "Clearly the trial cannot commence until we have established Ser Duncan's identity."
"What?" Aerion snarled, "No, it is my right to get recompense for the injury done to me!" Dunk didn't want to hide behind some noble, he had struck the prince, and he would face his fate as his own man.
"I would, um, t-trial by combat. That is my right." Dunk said.
"No!" Lord Tyrell said.
"You cannot forbid it." Baelor said softly, walking around the table to sit he turned and glared at Aerion. "Aerion is within his rights, and Ser Duncan has accepted that. But know, nephew, Ser Duncan has sworn to me, and if Lord Tyrell is correct we both have the right to stand as his champion if he wishes it."
"I refuse." Aerion said, smirking. Dunk felt a bit of hope rising his chest, maybe maybe it would be alright, Baelor could protect him from Lord Tyrell and maybe Egg could still be his squire.
"You cannot refuse." Prince Maekar glared at his son.
"Any knight accused of a crime has the right to demand such," Baelor paused. He looked at Dunk before turning back to his nephew. "Unless you withdraw your claim?"
"A Trial of Seven." Aerion said, crushing another walnut. "That is also my right, I do believe," What was a trial of seven? What did he expect Dunk to do? From the look on Baelor's face, and the thunderous expression Lord Tyrell wasn't hiding, he did not imagine it was anything good.
"What the fuck is a trial of seven?" Prince Maekar demanded.
"It is another form of trial by combat. Ancient. Seldom invoked. It came across the Narrow Sea with the Andals and their seven gods," Prince Baelor said studying his nephew, Dunk still didn't understand, what did that mean for him?
"I-I’m sorry, Your Grace. The old man was never much for praying. What-what is a trial of seven?"
"A Trial of Seven is fought by seven men against seven men." Lord Tyrell cut in, "it is believed that if seven champions took the field that gods would intervene and punish the guilty party, the last time it was called was by Maegor the Cruel. A noble legacy for House Targaryen."
Dunk's heart sank. Where was he going to find seven men? He could not ask Prince Baelor to fight for him, that would put the entire Kingdom at risk, maybe he should have just let them take his limbs.
"Are you cowering behind this foolery because of that?" Maekar demanded, "or because you’re afraid to face this hedge knight alone?"
"No," Aerion said. He looked at Lord Ashford, gesturing at him, but Lord Tyrell held him fast. Lord Ashford looked miserable even to Dunk's eyes. Dunk's head was starting to pound.
"Then why? Why not slay the rogue yourself?" Maekar snarled.
"Daeron has been wronged as well. Ser Duncan must pay for each one of his crimes against us. Or would we leave a matter of Targaryen honor in doubt?"
"Yes, this the honourable choice," Lord Tyrell said dryly and Baelor gave Dunk a half smile at that.
"This is fucking nonsense," Maekar snarled.
"Princes Aegon and Daeron," Ser Willem called, and Dunk spun around, he couldn't bear to look at Lord Tyrell, he was getting such a headache. Prince Daeron was the same man as at the inn, though he looked far worse than he had there, rubbing one of his arms and hopping slightly. Egg looked smug, and then he saw Dunk's face. Dunk didn't know what Egg saw there. Egg glared at Daeron.
"Tell the truth!"
"Aegon, what are you doing here? This does not concern you!" Prince Maekar snarled, he looked ready to drag his sons from the chamber.
"Yes it does, Ser Duncan didn't kidnap me, tell!" Egg shouted at his father.
"He didn't," Prince Daeron said, "I lied, Egg ran away, which was all the better for my fun! There are no duels for my honor needed." Prince Maekar looked as if he might choke, and fury like he had seen at the tent flashed across Prince Aerion's face.
"Is there still going to be a trial of seven?" Dunk asked, he had to ask if he was to die in the morning he felt he should know.
"If there is, House Tyrell stands with Ser Duncan," Lord Tyrell said, "I will not have my questions unanswered." Egg glared at him, but Daeron kept a grip of his little brother. Dunk was glad, he did not think he was allowed to manhandle a Prince.
"As will I," Prince Baelor added. "Well nephew, do you withdraw your accusation or will you face us all in the field? There will be no Kingsguard to aid you, I will forbid their involvement."
"Brother!" Maekar said, his tone shocked.
"No, Aerion has made his accusation, if his cause is just he may find six men to fight for it. Or he may face Ser Duncan or one of his champions in single combat." Baelor's tone was severe and unflinching. Egg's expression was vicious, Dunk didn't think he could breathe.
"I will withdraw my accusation, enjoy your bastard, uncle!" Aerion snarled, throwing down his knife and storming from the room. Maekar followed his son, glaring at his brother, and Dunk felt as though he could breathe again. He was safe.
"You may go, Lord Ashford." Baelor said, and made to rise himself. As Lord Ashford scurried from the room, the door swung shut behind him.
"What of my request?" Lord Tyrell asked. Dunk looked at Baelor, who only nodded as if to say Duncan could decide, and Dunk knew he was safe here, there were Kingsguard outside the door, and three Princes, Lord Tyrell could not hurt him here.
"If it would soothe mi’lord to know for certain, I will remove my shirt here." Dunk said, proud of how steady his voice was.
"Ser!" Egg sounded aghast, he glared at Lord Tyrell, trying to break his brother's grip,"How dare you have improper thoughts about my Ser!"
Dunk looked at Lord Tyrell, even though it made his headache so much worse, he looked stricken by Egg's words, perhaps they had been wrong.
"Aegon!" Baelor snapped. "Lord Tyrell believes Ser Duncan may be his son, though he has yet to explain why, beyond requesting Ser Duncan remove his shirt." Lord Tyrell steadied himself, and Dunk nearly winced. He looked back at his feet, that did not hurt nearly as much.
"My youngest son, Duncan," Egg scoffed, but was ignored. "Had a wine stain birthmark on his back at his right shoulder, it was shaped almost like a bird. If I could but see your shoulder Ser—"
"Ser Duncan is my knight-master, he can't be your son!" Egg interrupted.
"You've seen this mark on Ser Duncan!" Lord Tyrell had come around the table. There was naked hope in his face. Dunk didn't know what to say, it wasn't possible, it couldn't be. He shucked off his shirt and turned. This would settle things, many men had birthmarks, he and Baelor would laugh over this later, surely—
"My son!" Lord Tyrell said, his voice choked. "I must write your mother, and uncle and your siblings. And Bertrand needs to be summoned. Thank the gods, my son!"
Dunk turned to face him and Lord Tyrell had unshed tears in his eyes. Baelor, Egg and Prince Daeron just looked shocked.
""Milord, I'm sorry for your loss but I can't be your son, I'm from Flea Bottom, that's all remember til Ser Arlan found me."
"All you remember, Duncan?" Baelor asked. Dunk nodded. What did that matter?
"Aye, well, I had a knock on the head when I was small, woke up in my smallclothes in an alley, Rafe found me a day later, made sure I didn't starve." Dunk said quietly, studying his feet determinedly. He couldn't look at Lord Tyrell.
"Ser!" Egg said.
"Duncan—" Baelor started
"Bastards!" Lord Tyrell snarled, "We searched the realm for you, son. When you were ten your mother and I agreed you could squire for your Uncle Gwayne. We sent you with the best of the Honour Guard to Oldtown, but you were ambushed by Bittersteel and I swear your uncle combed Oldtown, the Reach and King’s Landing. We sent men into Essos but there was no word. We hoped you'd escaped what they'd promised. And after Bittersteel could not provide any proof you lived, we rode for Redgrass."
Dunk couldn't imagine being that important, to stop an army from marching. Baelor's voice cut in on his thoughts.
"That does make sense, a child is excellent leverage and Lord Tyrell was a formidable commander, to control his actions would be invaluable in a war."
"Your uncle certainly thought so when he ambushed my son," Lord Tyrell snarled.
"Your grace" Dunk's head was spinning, "Milord, you can't truly believe that."
"You do look like Ser Gwayne, Duncan. You are taller than him, though, and I've not seen him without his beard," Baelor said.
"You have my son's name, birth mark, and you are your uncle made again. I have no doubts, your lack of memory only confirms it."
Dunk could not take it anymore, the familiarity of Lord Tyrell, the trial, everything was starting to spin. The last thing Duncan heard was someone screaming.