Chapter Text
Duncan is woken up rather abruptly by sunlight hitting his face, however, he's only able to squint open one eye. His left eye is still throbbing and swollen shut, Gods, most of his body feels swollen. Ser Lyonel had been kind enough to offer him his maester so that he would not be finished off by infection, the alpha had even asked him to accompany him back to Storms End to serve him. Dunk had reluctantly declined, telling Lyonel he was unworthy of such an offer after the passing of the great and honorable Prince Baelor.
The Laughing Storm had yelled at him, something about the fate of the gods. Duncan didn't care to remember. Besides, Lyonel was gone now and so was Raymun. It was a shock to hear about Lyonel's proposal after the trial but it was a strong match, and Raymun deserved a win like that.
After letting himself bask in the morning sun for a while to let the warmth warm his limbs, he is able to heave himself to sit up with some effort, the still healing wound in his side making the task difficult.
He's about to move to start packing his things to get the hells out of Ashford when he hears a noise, hooves approaching. As he turns to look he sees the dreadful sigil of House Targaryen. Fuck, what have I done now? The knight thinks as he forces himself to stand, using the tree to keep himself up.
Duncan had thought the royal family would leave right after Prince Baelor's funeral, so why was this knight bearing the dragon house's symbol here?
“Good morrow ser, I-”
“Save the pleasantries. Prince Maekar requests your presence urgently.”
“Now?”
The knight scoffs, "Don't you know what ‘urgently’ means?”
Fair point. “Let me look presentable for the Prince, I'll be there shortly.”
“Then I shall wait for you, hedge knight. The Prince wishes for you to be escorted.”
Odd, Duncan thinks. He doesn't care to respond to this strange knight. He groans as he bends over to grab a canister of clean water. Normally, he would use water from the stream next to his camp, but figures it's not worth infecting his swollen eye. The hedge knight pours some of the water into a cupped hand and splashes his face to wash away the grime and sleep. Then he takes a swig of the water, swishes it around his mouth and spits into the grass. The other knight still stares. Surely the Prince knows I'm in no shape to run.
He dries his face with an odd-smelling rag and mounts Thunder, turning towards the exit of his little camp. “Well let’s go, mustn't keep his grace waiting.”
The knight follows behind him.
The last of the tents are still being taken down and few lords and ladies still linger in the aftermath of the Ashford tourney. Mostly likely all are eager to leave behind the dreadful events of the last few days. That poor girl Gwin Ashford. If I were her I'd never speak of my nameday again.
Dunk is led through Ashford castle, He was given a crutch to stay upright but his leg and side make every movement slow and painful. He's eventually led to a room, a study, and Dunk realizes it's the same room where he spoke to Prince Baelor just nights before. But Baelor is not here. In his stead is Maekar, staring out a window. Silent.
Duncan bows his head, it's all he can do really, “Y-your grace, I was told you wanted to see me?”
Maekar glances at him out of the side of his eye, then looks out the window again. The smell of grief is strong in the room.
He sighs deeply. “Yes. I did.” He says no more.
Dunk shuffles awkwardly. “The knight you sent, he said it was urgent."
Finally, the silver haired omega turns to him. The man is a wreck. He somehow looks thinner, even though it hasn't been long enough since the last Dunk saw him to lose much weight. His eyes are red and puffy, like he's been crying or not sleeping. Probably both. Standing in front of him was not a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, but a boy who had just lost his brother and a man who had almost lost his son. Guilt swells in Dunk's chest. This is his fault. Prince Baelor is dead and it's his fault and his brother most likely wants his head. That's why he didn't want me to run.
But Maekar doesn't look angry, just sad. Desperate even. He takes a shaky breath “My brother liked you Ser Duncan. Aegon is quite fond of you as well.” The prince makes eye contact with him. His gaze searching for something only the gods could know of. “You didn't kill Aerion. Why?”
Dunk had not expected to hear Aerion's name, and he flinches at it. “I-I beg your pardon, your grace. I don't understand.”
Maekar closes his eyes and takes another deep breath. “I am asking you why you spared my son. It was a trial by combat, you had every right. Every right and every chance.” He opens his eyes again and Dunk can't read the expression. “So tell me, hedge knight. Why did you let Aerion live?”
Duncan was silent, he must have looked like an idiot standing there slouched over with his mouth gaping open trying to come up with an answer. Why did he let the spoiled brat of a prince live? It was true, he had every right to kill Aerion, to punch his beautifully smug face over and over until the prince was a bloody dead pulp. But then he’d smelt it. Through all his rage and anger, he smelled fear from the small man under him and the second he recognized it he was reminded of what the prince really was. An omega.
The alpha can still remember his instincts fighting themselves. One angry voice yelled at him to rid the world of the evil that was Aerion Targareyn while the other yelled at him to protect a scared omega. In the end, his alpha instincts took over and he could not allow himself to kill the prince. Not when the desperate smell of a terrified omega filled his senses. Instead, he had dragged the prince by his foot and forced him to yield. And the prince had.
“Fucking hell, boy, stop gaping and answer me!” Prince Maekar's voice snaps him back into the moment.
“Apologies, your Grace,” Dunk wants to think there's another reason beyond simply biology for why he spared Aerion's life. And perhaps there is, “It was the honorable thing to do, letting him live. Surely he would not have given me the same chance, and I'd like to think I'm a better man than he is.”
Dunk cringes at his last words, he probably shouldn't be insulting this grieving man's son. Luckily, Maekar doesn't seem to care. The man's shoulders drop like a weight has been lifted off them and he sits at the desk in the room. Baelor had sat there. He gestures for Dunk to have a seat as well and he takes the opportunity quickly. When he's sat, the Prince doesn't meet his eyes, gazing at something in the corner of the room.
“I love my son, and I would do anything in my power to keep him safe. Even if it means keeping him safe from himself. Do you understand Ser Duncan?,” Dunk can only nod his head and wait for the man to continue. “Aerion has done damage to this family, most of which cannot be fixed. He has… problems I know. He is cruel and selfish, but he is my son. I have long since tried to control his behavior, but it seems the more I try the more he resists and now my brother is dead.” The last sentence is choked out. He can only watch as the Prince tries to steady himself.
“Your Grace, I'm sorry but… what is it you want from me?”
Maekar smooths down his unruly hair with a hand and sits up a little more. “Aerion needs order, structure. He needs to be… tamed” Duncan cannot help the laugh he lets out. He fully believes there is nothing in this world that could tame that man. Maekar stares at him sternly so Dunk thinks it's best if he stays quiet. “Aerion should have been married years ago, but he has refused every match I have made for him. Even when I try to force him, he finds a way to scare off my selections. He has made himself undesirable to every Alpha Lord and Lady in the Seven Kingdoms.”
It doesn't surprise him, from what one knows of Aerion it seems the omega will do anything but conform to the stereotypes of his sub gender. The prince continues.
“The events of this tourney are an embarrassment to my house. The small folk have slowly been losing faith in House Targaryen and Aerion's behavior has lost us even more favor. Ser Duncan, you have shown me you have the ability to do what I could not. You can help me save my son, and my house.”
Duncan feels a chill run down his spine as he guesses what the prince will say next. His throat feels dry and he now knows why Maekar wanted him escorted. He prays to the Seven above that he is wrong. “What are you proposing?”
“I am proposing a strategic marriage between you, Ser Duncan the Tall, and my son. And you will not refuse.”
The alpha can feel his pulse quicken and he lets out a harsh laugh, full of disbelief. “You cannot be serious. I am a commoner, from flea bottom, you cannot expect me to marry a prince of Westeros I-”
“I don't give a shit what you think.” Maekar interrupts him loudly. He stands from his seat at the desk and leans forward on his hands. “A marriage between you and Aerion will show the small folk that he can be held accountable. You are the only fucking person in the Seven Kingdoms who I have seen make Aerion admit he was wrong. Ser Duncan, my brother trusted you and I believe that means something so please, I am begging you to save my son from his madness before it kills him!”
Duncan can't help but stare at him wide eyed. The omega is begging for his help on the verge of tears. He can smell fear rolling off Maekar, and it smells so similar to his son. Dunk can't help but look down at the floor, he already knows his answer but he tries anyway. “And what happens if I refuse? If I said I'd rather end my own life?”
“Then I will be forced to send him away in exile to Lys. I have already lost my brother, please do not make me lose my son.”
He should say no. His whole body is telling him to say no. He should let Aerion spend the rest of his life in exile and never think about that monster again.
Dunk takes a deep breath and uses all his energy to stand and face Prince Maekar. “Fine. I will accept your proposal.” And just like that, Duncan sold away his life.