Chapter Text
It was a week after Dunk had met Aerion at the stream that he finally felt strong enough to leave Ashford Meadow behind. His wounds had mostly closed up, the fever had broken, and with a few fresh bandages wrapped around the worst of his injuries, he felt well enough to travel again. And if his body grew dizzy and weak from time to time, then he just had to deal with it. He couldn’t stand the constant ruckus and loud voices droning on outside his tent anymore. He much preferred the open road and quiet fields to surround him while traveling through the kingdoms he usually frequented.
While many looked down upon hedge knights, Dunk had a hard time imagining being tied down to one place, serving only one lord for the rest of his life. His childhood in Fleebottom was bad enough as it is, hiding under stables and dirty huts in the hope nobody would rob him at night and steal the little money he made selling scraps he found during the day. It had been a harsh life, one he gladly left behind when he had met Ser Arlan and started following him. He truly had been Dunk’s salvation, an opportunity to discover the realm and leave his old, dirty life behind.
Dunk was glad to be able to saddle Chestnut and Thunder, who Egg had sneakily hidden after Dunk had been thrown in the dungeons. Where exactly they had stayed, he didn’t know and he had been too ashamed to ask Egg about their whereabouts after coming back to his senses. The boy, the prince, had done enough for him. Dunk didn’t need to know everything. The horses had been in good hands and that was all that mattered to him in any case.
As he was strapping the last of his meager belongings to Chestnut’s saddle, the loud trampling of hoofs drew his attention. As he turned, he saw two knights of the King’s Guard approaching, their white armor shining in the sun. Their horses had evidently been brushed to perfection so that their coat was shimmering like water beneath the riders. Within moments, they had reached Dunk and stopped mere feet in front of him.
“Prince Maekar has asked for you, hedge knight.”
That made Dunk freeze. He had thought the man had departed with the first half of the Targaryen party that was headed for Summerhall. They had left days ago, while Dunk was still being treated for his infection and the resulting fever. He had been told that both Daeron and Egg were seen departing with the caravan, being watched closely by members of the King’s Guard and advisors of Prince Maekar alike, lest they made a break for it again and disappeared into neighboring villages.
It seemed that their father had stayed behind. To do what exactly, Dunk did not know.He nodded solemnly at the knights. If Maekar wanted to speak to Dunk, he would of course comply. He has made enough enemies for a lifetime, after all.
He quickly made sure his horses were tied securely to the elm tree’s branches and then turned to the men, looking up to await their next command.
“Come, then,” barked the taller of the two, swiftly turning his horse and marching towards Ashford castle. The horse’s tail swished with the abrupt movement.
Dunk hesitated for a second before he hurriedly followed after the knight. He truly did not want to make them any more annoyed than they already seemed to be. He figured they wanted to leave this wretched place just as much as he did.
After taking a few steps, Dunk dared to take a look over his shoulder, seeing that the other guard followed him at a short distance, his pace a bit slower than his partner’s to make sure he had a good view of Dunk at any time.
They did not want him to run, Dunk realized. A shiver ran down his back.
When they arrived at the castle, Dunk was lead through a confusing array of corridors and large doorways. He would never be able to find his way out of this maze without help. He had never had the best sense of direction and had never spent much time inside a keep before. He hoped someone would show him the way back. If he lived that long, that is.
Would Maekar order his death so soon after the trial? Even though he had won?
It was certainly a possibility, Dunk thought. The events of the last week had taught him that a prince’s temper was not to be underestimated. Especially not that of a Targaryen.
After what seemed like forever, the two knights escorting him stopped in front of a large door, motioning with their hands for Dunk to enter. Their impatience was palpable in the air, Dunk could almost taste it. He followed their command after a short moment of hesitation. He really did not look forward to whatever was to come.
With a quiet click, the door closed behind him. Only one of the King’s Guard, the tall one that had led him here, had followed Dunk inside and now took up his post next to the door.
Dunk took a few steps further inside.
The room was gloomy, the few candles that were lit were barely able to light the room and the small windows adorning one of the walls did little to illuminate the place either.
Maekar was standing by one of the windows, looking down at the busy encampment at the base of the castle. Many of the lords and ladies who had attended the tourney had started to pack up their belongings these last few days and were slowly making their way back to their homes. Dunk could hear their loud laughter even up here, high in the castle.
“My son,” Maekar spoke suddenly, “he has grown quite fond of you, Ser”.
For some reason, Dunk’s thoughts immediately jumped to Aerion, the man’s mad grin and bloodied mouth having violently carved their way into Dunk’s every waking thought.
Only after a moment did he understand that Maekar was not, in fact, talking about his second eldest son.He was talking about Egg.
Dunk should get his head checked again. He was sure that there was still something wrong with it. Maybe one of the hits he had received during the trial had knocked something lose in there. That must the reason why he was still thinking about Aerion, the man constantly poking and prodding at every corner of his mind.
After a moment, Dunk asked: “Your grace?”
“He has told me about his time with you, about how much he has learned.”
Dunk regarded the white-haired man thoughtfully.
He had enjoyed having the young boy as his squire. After Ser Arlan’s death, Dunk had been alone for quite a while, traveling only with his three horses and the summer breeze for company. He hadn’t realized how lonely his journey had become until he had met Egg. Over the course of the last weeks, he had grown rather accustomed to the boy’s presence and to his disobedience and cheeky remarks that, more often than not, made Dunk sort out a laugh.
A small smile stretched across his face.
“I have learned just as much from him, your grace,” Dunk responded.
He had come to truly appreciate Egg’s companionship and had started to miss him greatly these last days while Dunk was out with a fever and Egg was preoccupied with his princely duties. Dunk wished he had had time to say goodbye to him before he had left for Summerhall, but when Dunk had learned of his departure, the young prince was long gone.
Maekar regarded Dunk with a long, considering look, then let out an exhausted sigh.
“My son needs guidance,” he continued, “he needs someone to teach him how to stand tall, how to fight, how to take care of himself”.
That made Dunk falter. It slowly began to dawn on him just why he was summoned before the prince. His breath caught in his chest.
“It is time he was a squire,” Maekar stated, “but he tells me he will serve no knight but you, Ser Duncan.”
Dunk swallowed, slowly turning his gaze towards the powerful man in front of him. Maekar had moved while talking to him, his back now leaned against one of the pillars that adorned the lowly lit room. The two were closer now and Dunk could see how difficult it was for Maekar to acknowledge his youngest son’s desires to squire for him. The man was evidently not pleased.
“Will you have him?”, he asked nevertheless.
Dunk had expected the question, yet it still made his heart stutter. He couldn’t imagine it was easy for Maekar to ask this of him. The man’s eyes alone told him that he wanted Dunk to refuse, that this was merely a formality he had most likely promised Egg he would fulfill.
Dunk should take the hint. He should thank the prince for the kind offer and then decline the opportunity. It was expected of him. It was an empty proposal, one not meant to be taken seriously. What use did a wealthy prince have for a lowly hedge knight that was not only inexperienced, but also almost killed his other son?
None whatsoever, Dunk thought.
Even so, he hesitated.
“What do you say, Ser?”, Maekar inquired, his voice tired. It seemed the man was ready to leave this whole affair behind him as quickly as possible.
Dunk was about to follow the prince’s lead and refuse. He had already opened his mouth, the words on the tip of his tongue, when he abruptly thought about what awaited him in the future, when he finally left Ashford Meadow behind. He thought about the lonely road in front of him. The thought of the disgruntled farmers and villagers that, even though they needed his help, were unwilling to accept it and treated him with disdain and contempt. He thought of the cold nights that would come with winter mere months away and the lack of food that came hand in hand with the change of seasons.
The impending loneliness made his heart stutter and he realized that he couldn’t refuse. He simply couldn’t.
Dunk had always followed orders. He had always been a good lad that did as he was told. Even Ser Arlan had always claimed that Dunk had no evil bone in his body and that had his heart in the right place.
So it came as a surprise even to himself when he blurted out: “It would be an honor, your grace.”
In this moment, all thoughts of Aerion, of Egg, of knightly honor, and of expected humility disappeared from his mind. For the first time in his life, Dunk made a selfish decision. One that would ultimately change the course of his life, he was sure.