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– The King requests your presence!
Aerion startled, instinctively tightening his embrace around his newborn son. The babe, big and robust, opened his big round eyes wide and stared at his mother with curiosity. Now, standing at the threshold of his room were the Blackfyre twins, Aegon and Aemon. They were infamously known for their sadistic cruelty. But now the Omega prince had neither time nor vitality to quarrel with them. Giving birth to a baby who inherited all of his sire’s hugeness had truly drained him.
– Are you deaf, whore?
Aemon Blackfyre frowned once he saw how the insolent Targaryen cousin dared to ignore and not answer to his older twin brother’s earlier command. He yelled with such a shrill voice that even Aegon Blackfyre winced and quickly covered his own ears.
– Your great-grandsire, King Aegon IV, demands your presence, along with that filthy bastard at once, cousin!
– What the fuck are you doing here?
The Blackfyre twins jolted and turned around promptly, meeting the angry eyes of little Prince Aegon Targaryen, whose nickname was Egg. Egg glared at them first, then tried to make his way through the twins who were blocking the entrance. Luckily for him, the Blackfyre boys did not intend to annoy him further. Egg nodded at the midwives and maester, who were all standing there with worried faces, before climbing on the bed, one hand reaching toward his older brother to fix his unkempt hair.
– Are you tired? Do you need anything?
Aerion just shook his head. Among the siblings, Egg and Aerion were the least close. Aerion was the only one who refused to call Egg by his nickname, finding it ridiculous. Egg, in return, found Aerion’s obsession with dragons weird and eccentric. However, their family was already in turmoil, so in the end, they found their own way to overcome the strife and live in harmony. Especially after their second eldest brother Daeron had been married off to Storm’s End. He was the pacifier, the string that tied the sibling closer.
– No, but…
Aerion bit his lips, his anxious gaze fixed on the Blackfyre twins, who were standing there with malicious smirks on their lips. Egg followed his gaze and scowled, yet before he could say anything, Aerion propped on his hand, which was being placed on the mattress, to get up.
– Great-grandsire requests my presence.
The Omega prince huffed. His abdomen hurt, yet he tried to overlook it.
– Should not make him wait. You know his wrath.
– Aerion you just gave birth!
Egg argued as he tried to push Aerion back to bed, forcing him to rest. Yet Aegon Blackfyre’s irritating voice warned him.
- Do not, little Aegon! Or you shall be the one who presents yourself to your great-grandsire and face his wrath!
- Then I shall fucking do that! Leave my brother alone!
Egg snapped his head around to bark back, which only amused the black dragon twins more. Aemon Blackfyre chuckled.
- Gods be damned! You must not say such a bad word cousin. You’re a little baby. Your mother is a useless brood mare who cannot even discipline you properly?
- Don’t you fucking dar…
- Aegon!
Aerion grabbed Egg firmly by his wrist, as the little boy had jumped down from the bed and was about to dash toward the Blackfyre twins and start a fight. His little brother was too small for his own boldness and reckless. And to deal with two adult Alphas at once. Aerion thought so. The Omega prince sighed and lifted his chin high as he eyed the Blackfyre twins with disdain.
- Tell King Aegon IV I shall come to see him now, along with my newborn pup, once I’m done calming my younger brother!
The two black dragons exchanged indescribable gazes with each other before both diverted their eyes back to Aerion. Eventually, they left with one last warning, as well as informing him that the king was waiting in the Queen’s Ballroom. Only when their scents could no longer be smelled, did Aerion let himself relax against the pillows. Egg no longer struggled in his restraining hand, so Aerion opened his palm with a sigh. His little brother climbed back on the bed and looked at Aerion with pleading eyes.
- Please, Aerion. You just gave birth and you’re too weak. I’ll run and call for someone! Like when King Aegon IV forced Daeron to present himself along with the babe just after his labour, I had run to Lord Lyonel and he…
- Almost killed King Aegon IV and wreaked havoc.
Aerion reminded his little brother by gently pinching his nose, and Egg could not argue. Their second eldest brother, Daeron, had been decreed to marry Lord Lyonel Baratheon of Storm’s End, on their grandfather’s command. Grandfather declared it a political match, but only within their family did they know he did that out of safeguarding, especially after his twelfth name day, Daeron had turned out to be not only an Omega, but also a dragon dreamer. He had a dream about the death of the biggest dragon, along with the fall of the black dragons. Had this reached the King’s ears, Daeron would suffer more than just death.
Daeron married at the age of thirteen in secret to Lyonel Baratheon, who was eight-and-ten. Their wedding ceremony had been held confidentially in Storm’s End. Aerion and Egg still recalled how their father, Prince Baelor Breakspear, had grabbed young Lord Lyonel’s collar and made him swear that he would not touch his dear son until he turned sixteen, to which the lord had agreed. Daeron later gave birth to his eldest son and heir of Storm’s End, Orys Baratheon, when he was nineteen, one year after the consummation of his marriage. On the night prior to his labour, the king had arrived at Storm’s End with his favourite Blackfyre kinsmen in the family. He wanted to see his very first great-great-grandson, the king said so, after so many miscarriages of Kiera of Tyrosh.
Once Daeron was done pushing out the healthy pup and embracing his son for not even over one minute, Daemon Blackfyre, the bastard son of King Aegon IV, had come to the prince’s bedchamber to pass on the king’s order. Daeron was beyond frightened, yet obviously the king’s wrath was more terrifying, so he had to ignore the dissuading from the maester and midwives to trudge himself along the long loggia, to see his great-grandsire who was now sitting in the grand foyer. He even refused the help from servants and knights, as the king had ordered him to come by himself only.
Aerion and Egg never forgot how terrified they were once they found out, and while Aerion supported Daeron with the walking on the remaining distance, Egg ran off to get their parents and Daeron’s husband. Aerion recalled how once Daeron reached the grand foyer, King Aegon IV was displeased at the fact that Daeron had not walked by himself and had to rely on Aerion. He commanded Daeron to hand him the newborn babe and even after he had done so, the cruel king did not allow him to sit, forcing him to stand there then started lecturing him. Aerion remembered how he was once like Egg, wanted to step forward and argue with the king, but Daeron had halted him.
Egg recalled how his parents, Prince Baelor and Prince Maekar, along with Lord Lyonel, had rushed to the grand foyer. Their steps only moved more quickly once they saw the trail of blood on the marble floor, and the laughing stag had roared so furiously for the first time in his life. In his blind anger, Lyonel unsheathed his sword, and Prince Baelor and Prince Maekar had to chase after their son-in-law, to stop him before he could act impulsively.
The grand foyer was chaotic as the stormlord almost slashed the king, if not for Daemon Blackfyre’s swiftness just in time as he parried Lyonel’s sword using his. There was a huge quarrel, with one side being the red dragons and the furious stag, and the other side was the corrupted red dragon with his beloved black dragon kin. After that event, King Aegon IV swore never to arrive at Storm’s End again, and Lord Lyonel Baratheon was bold enough to spit at him as the king left.
Which was a blessing, because Daeron’s life was so peaceful now at Storm’s End, with a loving husband and two healthy children.
However, Aerion never had the same blessing. Because the child he just gave birth to was a bastard, and worse, a bastard with half-commoner blood. He just knew the king would even despise him more than Daeron, and he should not enrage him further by letting the old man wait any longer.
- Maester Cearbhall, please keep Prince Aegon here, with the midwives. Look after him carefully. I have to go.
Aerion ordered, trying his best to sound potent, but he could never hide the exhaustion of an Omega who had just undergone a difficult childbirth with a huge pup. He tried to stand up again, ignoring all the pain and aches.
- Your Grace! You shouldn’t…
- Do as I say!
The prince screamed at the maester once his feet touched the floor. Marble felt cold, and Aerion felt so laboured. His legs were trembling, as if they would not be able to hold his entire body. But he had to keep going.
- No! Stay here!
Egg yelled and ran away. He was too fast for Aerion to catch his wrist. The Omega prince could only sigh as he started walking. Gods be damned, his cunt hurt, he could not even close his legs, let alone move them and make strides. One midwife walked toward him and clumsily offered help, but he snapped at her. Stiffening his embrace, he looked at his son with the most endearing eyes, as if to soothe the babe. The maester and midwives could only witness in impotence, as the prince tormented himself with each grievous step as he lurched.
Aerion had been locked in Maegor’s Holdfast ever since King Aegon IV found out he was pregnant out of wedlock. And the child’s sire was no one but a lowborn kingsguard. He remembered how Prince Maekar, his mother, had pleaded with the king to let him serve the sentence at Summerhall, but to no avail. In return, King Aegon IV even sent his grandchildren, Baelor and Maekar, to Myr on a diplomatic mission. Now there were only Aerion, Matarys, Aegon, Daella and Rhae in Red Keep. They were not supposed to stay here, as the king had commanded Aerion to be imprisoned within Maegor’s Holdfast alone, but his siblings had caused a scene, and King Aegon IV had to cede. Their oldest brother, Valarr, had also gone to Tyrosh with his wife Kiera, to resolve some political problems. Daeron was in Storm’s End, and Aemon had been sent to the Citadel long ago to study with their uncle, Aerys. Grandfather and grandmother were in Dorne, also for political reasons. Uncle Rhaegel was in Summerhall with his wife and children, and Aerion did not expect help from them.
Aerion had to walk by himself, from the bedchamber to the Queen’s Ballroom. He thanked the gods that the king was not now sitting on the throne in the Great Hall of course, because it would be a longer and more miserable way, concerning his current situation. The prince could feel how all the kingsguard standing along the hallway were discreetly eyeing him with pity, yet he ignored them. Aerion kept feeding himself with delusions to fuel his will. He was a dragon. A dragon had to stay strong and proud regardless of the circumstances. The Omega prince tried to control his breath, lest he passed out on the way. It would be humiliating. He must never give those black dragons and the corrupted king a chance to laugh at his red dragon family.
Yet once he took the very first right turn, Aerion could not help but pant. No. No. No. He needed to compose his breath, his stance. He had to stand firm. Maybe he could lean against the wall for a temporary rest before continuing, but Aerion suddenly felt like blood was drained out of his body. Realisation hit him like an anvil. Aerion did not dare to look down or turn around to look behind him, but his intuition kept urging him, and in the end, he gave in.
Aerion wanted to scream in terror once he saw the trail of blood he had left behind, on the clean marble floor, during his walk. The glaring redness of blood was only emphasised by the pure whiteness of the marble. Aerion did not fear blood. He had seen bloodshed countless times, during his training, during the tourneys. Yet now the garishly red blood on white marble floor petrified him. It reminded him how frail and feeble he was now. Aerion closed his eyes and turned his head forward, keeping breathing steadily. He was losing blood. How could he be so stupid? Now he could pass out anytime soon, whether he wanted it or not. He should have been more stubborn and gone against the king’s order, and let the maester tend to him properly before he could get up. His mind was nothing but a tangled skein of thoughts. As much as he tried to calm himself, his panic only grew.
- Aerion!
Here it was, the voice of his beloved guardian, sounding as great as the bells of the Great Sept of Baelor. Aerion could no longer stay stubborn as he let himself fall into Dunk’s arms. Duncan the Tall, the trainee kingsguard. The king said the young knight had potential raw power, while Prince Daeron the Good saw the honour and kindness in this boy's heart. Aerion saw Dunk as both kind, might and stubborn. Gods be good, Aerion dared to say he never felt ashamed when bearing children for this Alpha, the only Alpha who could both tame him and pamper him.
- Don’t worry! Egg told me everything! Let me just carry you bac…
- No!
Aerion cut in, to Dunk’s awe. The Omega shook his head. No. He loved Dunk so much. He could not let him suffer the wrath of the king. Aerion was the prince, the kin to the king after all. King Aegon IV would at least spare some mercy to him. But Duncan, he was just an orphan, a lowborn who came from Flea Bottom. Had not for Daemon Blackfyre the younger, the son of Daemon Blackfyre the older, Dunk would never have had a single chance to step even one of his toes into Red Keep. That was Dunk’s story. He had been bought from his master, Ser Arlan of Pennytree, once Daemon the younger set his eye on the tall boy and implored his grandfather to get that boy for him. King Aegon was famously known for his favouritism toward his Blackfyre kin, so he bought Duncan, free.
Because Ser Arlan had refused to sell his dear squire, even when the king had offered to make him a landed knight. Poor the old hedge knight had been tortured till death while his squire had been made to witness the grotesque process. The boy had shrieked and wailed as the kingsguards dragged him away. Since then, Duncan had become Daemon’s “friends”, along with Alyn Cockshaw, for four years. King Aegon IV found this boy interesting, especially his abnormal hugeness and his absurd kindness. The King spoiled Dunk, coaxed him into becoming one of Daemon’s paramours and lived a lavishly heinous life, yet the boy firmly refused. Dunk even fought Aegon and Aemon whenever they tried to bully him, Alyn and Daemon. Eventually, the king grew bored and even disgusted by his stubborn kindness. Dunk had been tossed aside, and the king gifted him to his shunned son, Daeron the Good, much to Daemon’s dismay.
Dunk spent the following years growing up with Prince Daeron Targaryen and Princess Myriah Martell’s children and grandchildren. Initially, they allowed him to leave as they wanted to free him, but Dunk turned down that suggestion. He wanted to avenge his late master. So Prince Daeron had offered to have him trained, and Dunk agreed. Dunk had even once gathered all of his boldness to ask the prince and princess to find Ser Arlan’s remains and bury his late master properly, to which they had agreed and did so, much to Dunk’s admiration and delight.
- The king asked for my presence.
Aerion could not stop sobbing once he met Dunk’s soft gaze. He could never stay arrogant when he looked at those tender blue eyes.
- Please, do me a favour and carry me for a short way. Once we are near the Queen’s Ballroom, place me down and leave me there. I shall meet the king alone.
- No.
Dunk sternly denied his request. He only tightened his arms as he carried Aerion, who was embracing their son. Aerion wanted to oppose, but he could not. Especially when he was in such a fragile state and Dunk’s embrace was so warm and secure. He shamelessly buried his face against Dunk’s chest armour and let tears dampen his face. They were the same age and had grown up together. From friends to lovers. They slept with each other once they reached sixteen, and at the age of eighteen, Aerion gave birth to Dunk’s firstborn son. Aerion never regretted. His grandfather had disapproved of this relationship once he found out. Aerion must be available for every possible political match, to strengthen the alliance. Yet for the first time in his life, Aerion stayed stubborn and selfish. He even begged his parents and grandparents to strip him of his status as a prince, if it was the only way for him to stay with Dunk.
However, once this reached King Aegon IV’s ears, he ordered Aerion to be locked up, and Dunk, though had begged desperately, could not even have a chance to guard outside Aerion’s bedchamber in Maegor’s Holdfast. He could only stay with Aerion’s other siblings and look after them, while they were at Red Keep. Dunk knew today was the day Aerion went into labour, yet all the kingsguards still prohibited him from entering Maegor’s Holdfast earlier. When Egg ran to him to tell him everything, Dunk was waiting with Matarys, Daella and Rhae at the serpentine steps. Although he had told them, along with Egg, to wait there, Dunk doubted if they would ever listen.
Dunk was relieved that finally the kingsguards had allowed him to enter Maegor’s Holdfast. He had sensed the pity in their eyes as he thanked them for doing so. And now as they were walking, the kingsguards stood still and only eyed them with such emotionless expression. Yet Dunk paid them no mind. All of his attention was now focused on Aerion and their newborn pup.
Dunk lowered his head every few seconds to look at the adorable babe. His son looked so red and wrinkly. His big round eyes were now looking at Dunk with curiosity. The colour of his eyes could not be known for now, but Dunk inwardly hoped his son would take after his mother more. Dunk observed the cute little nose, a cutely small mouth with a tongue stuck out, and the puffy little cheeks, and suddenly he wanted to cry. Gods be good, the babe even looked too big for a newborn in Aerion’s arms. Dunk did not hesitantly place a kiss on Aerion’s forehead while murmuring an apology. Surely the boy had Dunk’s hugeness, and his beloved prince must have suffered much during the entire pregnancy.
On the contrary, Aerion looked so pale, as if blood had been drained entirely from his body. Dunk shook his head. Of course it did! Dunk remembered how he had been so terrified once he saw the blood smearing on the white marble floor. The knight kept blaming himself for being so careless, so inconsiderate, as he ran as fast as possible, following the trail of red. He had even thought of the worst scenario. But thanked the Seven, Aerion was alright and not yet collapsed. However, Dunk would never forgive himself on this day for coming too late, and now his beloved Omega looked almost like a walking corpse, an Other. He squeezed his embrace more, letting his scent grow intense so that Aerion could feel safer.
Once they had arrived in front of the Queen’s Ballroom, Dunk and Aerion exchanged their gazes one last time. After having taken each other’s hint, they both sighed in anticipation as Dunk tightened one arm around Aerion, while the other arm reached out to pull the door open.
Aegon IV Targaryen was waiting, as he sat on a small throne. Six-and-seventy, the king was nothing but a morbidly obese mishmash of flabs, folds and wrinkles. His facial skin was no longer plump and glossy with fat as it was when he was younger, instead the cheeks were creased and saggy, still polished by his own fat. Dunk dared to associate those nasty cheeks with a horse's ball sacks, but that would be a grave insult to the poor animal. And gods be damned, the king looked big but not great, corpulent even. He was a wrinkly pile of shapeless, wobbly and muddled meat. The throne Aegon IV was sitting on must be the mightiest seat in all seven kingdoms to withstand his ginormous weight. Smallfolk whispered and called him the Pig King, but Dunk thought even the pigs deserved a better monarch than Aegon IV.
Now the king was eyeing Dunk, who was carrying Aerion in his arms. Neither of them could know what type of expression that gaze carried, because Aegon IV was so fat that even his eyelids were full of excess meat, which made his eyes always look like they were drooping and his irises unseeable. Then the king started panting, which sounded so wheezy because clearly his respiratory system had been squeezed by internal fat and meat surpluses. He was old too, so sickness was unavoidable for him. After a few labouring pants, the king could finally speak. His voice sounded just as wheezy as his breath.
- How dare you…
King Aegon slowly raised one trembling plump finger to point at Aerion. Though he no longer possessed the imperious demeanour of his younger days, his vile scent still reminded everyone in the room of his status and his mood. Now, the powerful king was beyond angry.
- I ordered you to walk… By yourself!
- He just gave birth!
Dunk barked back, to Aerion’s fright, but everyone else’s awe and amusement. The Omega struggled, indicating that Dunk should place him down, let him stand on his own, then leave him here. But Dunk gave him one last warning shot, holding Aerion closer to him and continuing to look at the king, who was now flushing with anger. Dunk suppressed his snigger. The fat old man looked like a wrinkly tomato. No, tomatoes even looked better than him. Without hesitation, Dunk resumed his speech.
- I may not be a lord or a prince. Not a Tyroshi archon, nor Braavosi sealord. I’m just Dunk, from Flea Bottom, and if you remember, your Grace, you fucking killed my master, Ser Arlan of Pennytree, when that honourable old knight refused to sell me to you, like a property! Prince Daeron the Good was the one who found his corpse and Princess Myriah Martell was the one who buried him properly! Therefore, I swore my loyalty to them and their kin only! And today…
Dunk inhaled deeply and braced himself for a more eloquent speech.
- You dare torment his grandson! You dare command a fragile postnatal prince to walk on his own and present himself to you in such a fragile state of health! It’s unacceptable! He may not be your favourite, considering that he is Prince Daeron’s blood, but still he’s your great-grandson! Oh, you can indulge the kin of your bastard, but draw the line at your great-grandson birthing a bastard? How absurd, Your Grace!
- What a bold mouth, Ser Duncan.
Dunk did not divert his gaze from the king. He had seen other Blackfyre members who escorted their grandfather to Maegor’s Holdfast today. But he refused to acknowledge them at the moment. King Aegon IV, surprisingly, was no longer enraged. He guffawed wheezily before slightly tilting his head to the right side. Dunk understood the implicit gesture, yet still did not want to move his gaze. However, the knight realised that he should be more lenient, or else he would put Aerion and his newborn son at risk.
So Dunk met Daemon Blackfyre the younger, who had just made that comment. The Omega was breastfeeding his pup. Probably Alyn Cockshaw’s, though words said Daemon had married a noble lord, for political purposes. Daemon looked more charming since the last time they met, which was long ago, when King Aegon IV ordered Dunk to leave and come to Summerhall, as a gift for his eldest trueborn son. Daemon smiled delicately, but Dunk was not captivated by that beauty. No. The Blackfyres could possess the alluring beauty of the Valyrians, but so did the Targaryens. And the Targaryens on Prince Daeron’s side were a hundred times more gorgeous, because they had good personalities. Unlike those black leeches who were only good at exploiting the king’s favouritism.
- I still dream of bearing your child, Duncan.
Daemon rested his chin on his palm, his smile only widened, embodying sorrow and regret.
- Sadly, it is just a dream, not a prophetic one.
Daemon Blackfyre the younger was also a dragon dreamer, like Prince Daeron Targaryen the younger. But King Aegon IV only acknowledged his grandson, because his great-grandson’s special capability had long been concealed from him. Dunk winced at the comment, deciding not to answer. He would not let Daemon achieve what he wanted from today’s reunion. He wanted to turn his back and leave the room immediately, but at the same time, his intuition warned him to stay. Unfortunately, Daemon did not seem to give up. He no longer looked at Dunk lovingly, but now moved and fixed his gaze on Aerion, who was now nestling warmly in the knight’s embrace. Daemon’s purple irises quivered.
- Cousin…
His words dripped with venom, with hints of unmaskable jealousy.
- Alphas tend to enjoy Omegas who are quick to get back in shape postnatal. And you, my twin brothers told me that you looked like a pig on the delivery bed.
- And Duncan loves this pig.
The whole room fell into silence. Daemon’s eyes gaped, Aegon and Aemon curved their lips, and the king was waiting for a dramatic sight with anticipation. Dunk was dumbfounded as Aerion raised his head and slightly shifted in his embrace. The prince faced the Blackfyre Omega, fear was absent on his solemn countenance as his chin held high.
- You shall have as many paramours as you can, as long as you keep pestering the king. But I, I do not even have to ask, yet the king still blessed me with the best Alpha of the seven realms. Say what you want, cousin, but this game, I won. Effortlessly.
Dunk could see how Daemon grimaced and Alyn Cockshaw began to comfort him clumsily. Honestly, they made a good couple, if Daemon had ever agreed to Alyn’s proposal. Dunk decided to ignore them and turned to the king, whose face was now taken over by such an ineffable expression. King Aegon IV was scrutinising the mismatched couple. Aerion knocked on the armour, and Dunk lowered his gaze.
- If anything happens…
The prince whispered.
- Leave me here as the hostage. Priority our child safety.
- No.
Dunk murmured back.
- I shall fight the kingsguards with one arm while the remaining hold you tight.
The prince rolled his eyes and sighed, but eventually a smirk was drawn on his lovely lips. Dunk wanted to kiss those lips. He was more than ready to give those awful audiences a sight to see. No. He must wait. He must not irritate them, for Aerion and the babe’s safety. But gods be good, Aerion looked torrid as his body had grown stout during the pregnancy. No. Dunk must wait. He would wait even if it lasted a year, he did not mind. As long as Aerion was whole and well, fully recovered, Dunk would use his own hand until then.
- What is… the name…
Dunk and Aerion broke eye contact to both look at the king. Aegon IV shifted heavily in his seat, trying to straighten on his back. The king repeated, and impatience could be heard in his panting voice.
- The bastard… What is… his…
- Maegor.
The whole room gasped before the atmosphere was strained by silence again. The Blackfyres stared at the Targaryen prince aghast. Even Dunk was shocked. Aerion was more than proud as he lifted his chin high and looked at the king with such a challenging gaze.
- Maegor Targaryen. Or Maegor Waters. I do not care if he will be legitimised or not. My grandfather is fair and just. He knows best.
Another moment of silence, until it was the king who shattered it by bursting out in a loud laugh. The Blackfyres were dumbfounded, while Dunk and Aerion began to be alerted. Aegon IV was infamously known for being unpredictable, so they should be ready for the worst circumstance.
- I am about… to call the… kingsguards!
The king chortled so hard that tears started shedding from his eyes, rolling along his sagging cheeks. Dunk’s face only turned grimmer as the words slipped out of the king’s foul mouth.
- Because of you… Duncan! You… damned… insolent… mouth! Clearly I… as an Alpha… have the right to have b… bastard! Omega having ba… bastards is nothing… but… lower than whores! But Aerion…
The king stared at his great-grandson. Though his heavily drooping eyelids made his eyes look like they were closing, Aerion could still feel how the gaze was still there and now sending a chill all over his body.
- Maegor… A beautiful name…
Aegon IV sluggishly waved his hand. Amidst his laugh, the signs of frustration could be heard.
- Leave… at… once! Before I… I changed my mind!
Dunk and Aerion immediately understood and left, even without respectfully bidding farewell to the king or his beloved Blackfyre kin. Oh fuck the king and those bastards, they had long grown loathing for all of them.
What surprised them was Matarys, Daella, Aegon and Rhae waiting for them in front of the Queen’s Ballroom. Fortunately, they were not trying to eavesdrop by pressing their ears on the doors, or else Dunk might have accidentally hurt them as he pushed the door open.
- I remember telling all of you to wait for me.
Dunk glared at them, but the princes and princesses did not seem to waver.
- I’m worried for my brother!
Matarys exclaimed first, followed by Daella’s fuss.
- We know you have a notoriously bold mouth, Ser Duncan! And stupid too! What if you enraged the king?
Then it came Egg with his usual worry.
- Ser Duncan, is everything alright? Does the king name any punishment upon you or Aerion?
Rhae placed her arms on her hips as she snapped at her older brother.
- Nu uh! If he dared, we would send Aerion immediately to Dorne tonight!
- No, no, no and no!
Aerion snapped his head and glared down at his siblings, and they immediately shut their mouths. The Omega sighed and started telling them everything as they began to walk away from the Queen’s Ballroom.
- So does that mean we can go back to Summerhall now?
Daella asked, and Aerion nodded.
- Yes.
His younger siblings cheered, but Dunk cut in on them.
- But before that!
The knight returned his gaze to his beloved prince, who was snuggling in his embrace, then to his son, his little Maegor, who was cooing at him while watching him with those adorable eyes.
- Let this dragon mother rest and feed his little dragon first.