Ok so I’m writing part 3 of my Dunk/Daeron modern AU and for the first 2 parts everything is from Duncan’s perspective, but I’m thinking of shifting to a third person omniscient POV for this part so I can add in some of Daeron’s thoughts/feelings (and maybe some other characters too).
Summary: Egg plays a game of Mario Kart with his older brothers. Family Fluff.
Warnings: Alcohol Mentions, very mild violence
Read below the cut or on AO3
A warm summer breeze ruffled the curtains. Outside the open window crickets chirped, somewhere in the distance an owl hooted, and a crescent moon hung high in the sky. Inside, a battle raged.
Daeron, Aerion, and Egg were in Daeron’s room, eyes glued to the television as they watched their chosen Mario Kart characters race around the track. Daeron as Dry Bones was in a tenuous first place with Aerion’s Bowser close behind. Egg as Toad was not doing nearly so well, trucking along near the back and frequently running off the road.
This was at least partially due to the fact that Egg had only the basic controller and not the steering wheel attachment. They only owned two of those and of course his brothers had claimed them first. Egg didn’t mind though, not really. He was happy just to be included. He wished Aemon were here and not away at that nerdy summer camp. He would’ve enjoyed this as much as Egg.
It had been one of those rare days when the brothers had actually gotten along. Daeron had still been drinking, but not as heavily as usual, and the drinks seemed to have put him in a happy mood as opposed to his usual maudlin one. Aerion had not exactly been kind, but he had not been cruel either, which was the best Egg could hope for. Daeron had even helped Egg build his new Star Wars Lego set, and Aerion hadn’t promptly smashed it despite being in the same room. He had made a snide comment about how Legos were “baby stuff” which Egg found ironic as he knew for a fact that Aerion had a Lego dragon figurine hidden in his closet.
Egg loved days like this, but they also tended to make him a bit sad. He wished he had these versions of his brothers all the time. He loved Daeron, and he wanted so badly to love Aerion too. He just wished Daeron would choose him over the drinking, that Aerion would choose him at all for any reason other than to be a target for cruelty.
Daeron let out a whoop that drew Egg’s attention back to the game. “Final lap and I’m still in first!!” Daeron crowed. Aerion only grunted in response, face set in a scowl of concentration, determined to catch up.
“Lucky Mario Kart doesn’t penalize drunk drivers,” Egg quipped. “They’d have gotten you at the starting line.”
“Sorry did you say something Egg? I can barely hear you from all the way back in 9th place” Daeron shot back, tossing a grin over his shoulder to his little brother.
The three continued to fight their way around the track with Aerion steadily gaining. The finish line was in sight. “If anything happens to me now, I swear I’ll go mental.” Daeron said.
At that exact moment Aerion threw the red shell he’d been holding on to for half the lap. “Go mental, bitch!”
Daeron let out a howl of shock and rage as on screen the red shell collided with Dry Bones, spinning him out as Aerion’s Bowser blew by, crossing the finish line first.
Aerion sprung to his feet, beaming with genuine delight in a way Egg had almost never seen from him. “The dragon never loses!” Aerion cried, beating his chest with a closed fist.
“Oh, he’s about to!” Daeron growled, rising. Using his size advantage he managed to get Aerion into a tight headlock, forcing him to bend at the waist. Daeron brought his fist to the top of Aerion’s head, rubbing his knuckles hard on Aerion’s scalp. “How does the dragon feel about noogies, huh?”
Aerion let out an indignant cry, flailing and trying to free himself from Daeron’s grasp. He looked so ridiculous, Egg couldn’t help laughing until tears were rolling down his cheeks.
Egg watched, cheering Daeron on, as the two reeled about the room in their struggle, knocking into furniture. Daeron’s lava lamp fell from the dresser with a crash, and his record display stand teetered dangerously.
Suddenly the door swung open violently. All three boys froze, Daeron still holding Aerion in a headlock, his knuckles still poised over Aerion’s scalp. Maekar stood in the doorway, wearing a bathrobe and a scowl. “Do you have any idea what time it is? It is two’o’clock in the fucking morning! Your sisters are sleeping and I have work in a few hours and… Daeron let go of your brother before he bites you!” Aerion was, indeed, at that very moment, angling himself to be able to take a chunk out of Daeron’s thigh. Daeron released his hold on his brother, shoving him away gently. Aerion straightened looking at Daeron reproachfully while smoothing his silvery hair. “Go. The fuck. To sleep.” Maekar turned and left, swinging the door shut behind him.
The three boys remained frozen for a moment looking at each other. Then all three dissolved into a fit of stifled giggles, laughing until their stomachs ached. When they finally regained their composure, Daeron turned to Aerion, “Rematch?” Aerion grinned and nodded. Daeron turned to Egg, “Do you think you can stay awake for another round?”
Egg beamed. “Absolutely!” He would stay up as long as he needed to, as long as he physically could. He wanted to hold on to these versions of his brothers as long as he could. He never wanted this night to end.
Summary: 1.6k words. Aerion has a bit too much to drink and Duncan spends the evening taking care of him.
Warnings: Alcohol mentions (obvi), mild mention of vomit, Fluff!!!
Read below the cut or on AO3: Here
Duncan had a problem. Aerion was drunk. Really drunk. Really really drunk. Dunk hadn’t even realized how much Aerion had had to drink.. They had dinner at a brewery that allowed you to pour your own beer from various taps using a wristband you paid for at the bar. Duncan, realizing he had to drive home, had not used all of the money on his own wristband and had consequently given it to Aerion. Oops.
Aerion rarely drank in excess so Duncan was only now learning what drunk Aerion was like. There was no slurring, no stumbling, no volume increase, just a pink flush in his cheeks and a visible softening, his sharp edges dulled somewhat. His usually guarded face, now more open.
Duncan could see the raw affection in Aerion’s eyes when he looked at Dunk that Aerion usually tried to hide. It made Duncan’s heart contract in his chest, such a strong wave of love overwhelming him he had to fight the urge to pull Aerion into his lap in the middle of the restaurant just to hold him close.
They finished up the meal and Duncan paid the bill at the bar. Aerion stood close enough to Duncan as he paid that he could feel the heat coming off of him. They exited the restaurant out onto the city sidewalk. “C’mon, Aerion, we have to get back to the car.” He reached back for Aerion’s hand, but found only empty air. He turned around to see Aerion halfway down the street in the opposite direction. “Christ!” Duncan jogged down the street and quickly caught up to Aerion who had come to an abrupt halt. “What on Earth are you doing?”
Aerion had stopped in front of a small pet shop and stood peering through the window. He pointed suddenly at a bearded dragon visible through the window. “I want that one.”
“You want a bearded dragon?” Dunk asked, unsure if Aerion was being serious or not.
“Yes. I’ll name him Caraxes and he can ride around on my shoulder.” Aerion said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“How do you know it’s a boy? And don’t they eat meal worms? I seem to recall you not being a fan of leggy, wormy creatures, at least if that incident with the house centipede was anything to go off of.”
Aerion scowled up at him. “First of all, that thing attacked me. And what do you know about taking care of a dragon?” Aerion paused for a moment, considering. “Actually you could feed him. It would be a good way for you to bond, since it’ll naturally be harder for him to bond with you, you know since you have no dragon blood.”
“Oh, so he’d be our bearded dragon then?” Duncan asked, smiling.
“Of course.” Aerion said, sounding almost annoyed that Duncan would even ask such a stupid question. Duncan rather liked the idea of sharing a pet with Aerion—he liked the idea of anything that bound them closer together— and Aerion seemed so genuinely excited about the idea that it made Duncan a bit sad about what he had to say next.
“Aerion, you do realize the store is closed, right?” Aerion’s face went completely blank for a moment. He recovered quickly.
“Obviously I know that, Duncan. I was speaking in future tense. Maybe. We’ll see.” Duncan could detect just a hint of disappointment in his voice and in his eyes, which Duncan noted were going a bit glassy. Aerion was also starting to sway slightly. Duncan realized that all of the alcohol Aerion had consumed was still hitting him. They needed to get back to the car.
Duncan took Aerion’s hand. “C’mon, we’ll come back another time.” Aerion nodded, seeming content to follow Duncan’s lead, for once.
The pair made it to the car. Duncan opened the passenger side door for Aerion and helped him inside, making sure he buckled his seatbelt. Aerion had gone oddly quiet, which Duncan took to be a bad sign. He slid into the driver’s seat and started the car. He turned on the radio hoping to catch the end of the football match. Duncan quickly found the correct radio station and pulled out of the parking lot.
Aerion turned the radio off. Duncan looked at him confused. Aerion said nothing, staring straight ahead. Duncan waited a beat and turned the radio back on. Aerion promptly turned it off again.
Duncan sighed. “What is it, love? Do you want the aux cord?” Aerion, who had apparently decided to go completely non-verbal only nodded.
Duncan had learned early on in the relationship that when Aerion listened to music he preferred to listen to entire albums front to back. “The way the artist intended it to be listened to” Aerion had said. Duncan expected him to play one of his old standby favorites: Mezzanine by Massive Attack, Diamond Eyes by Deftones, maybe The Downward Spiral by Nine Inch Nails. Duncan was taken completely by surprise when the first notes of Mazzy Star’s Fade Into You filled the car.
Duncan glanced over at Aerion who leaned across the console and wrapped his arms around Duncan’s upper arm, resting his cheek on Duncan’s shoulder. Duncan smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He hadn’t expected Aerion of all people to be a sappy, affectionate drunk, but he certainly didn’t mind it either.
Aerion dozed off still wrapped around Duncan’s arm. Having only one arm to drive did make things a little difficult but Duncan decided he’d be perfectly happy if Aerion decided to hold on to his arm forever. He’d just learn how to do everything with only one arm.
Aerion was still asleep when they pulled into the driveway. Duncan kissed him on the forehead again, “Wake up, love, we’re home.” Aerion’s eyes fluttered open and met Duncan’s. A rare soft smile crossed his face only to be quickly replaced by a flash of panic. He sat up abruptly, clapping a hand over his mouth. He turned and flung open the car door, leaning out as far as the seatbelt would allow, and vomiting onto the driveway. When he finished he sat still, head hanging down.
Duncan got out of the car and went to him, careful to avoid stepping in the mess. “Oh, dear, what are we going to do with you?” He said gently. Aerion shook his head miserably without looking up. “C’mon let’s get you inside and cleaned up.” Duncan undid Aerion’s seatbelt, pulled him to his feet, and wrapped an arm around him, helping him into the house. Aerion was still perfectly capable of walking Duncan was glad to note, but seemed to be enjoying the extra care Duncan was taking with him.
They made it to the bathroom. Dunk turned on the shower to let the water heat up and helped Aerion undress. Once the water was almost scalding hot, the way Aerion preferred, Duncan helped him into the shower. Aerion promptly sat down on the floor, face uplifted, letting the water run down his throat, clearly enjoying himself. Duncan chuckled, “Are you going to be alright in there for a bit?” Aerion looked somewhat disappointed Dunk wouldn’t be joining him, but nodded.
Duncan had hosed off the driveway, warmed the sheets in the dryer, replaced them on the bed, cued up an old season of Love Island on the TV (Aerion’s guilty pleasure that Dunk didn’t understand at all but would watch with him anyway), and was mixing a hydration drink mix into a large glass of water when he heard a loud clattering from the bathroom.
He hurried in to find Aerion still curled on the floor of the shower, all of the shampoo and body wash containers knocked over around him. Aerion hadn’t noticed Dunk yet, and as Duncan watched Aerion stood the bottles back up and knocked them over again, making as much noise as possible. Duncan couldn’t help but smile and shake his head as he realized what Aerion was doing. “Are you knocking over those bottles to try to get my attention? Like a cat, you are.”
Aerion looked up with as sheepish a look as he was capable of. “The water is getting cold, and you left me in here” he complained, pouting. He reached his arms up towards Dunk.
“Oh, so we’re talking again now? But not enough to just call for me?” Aerion made a face. Duncan pulled him to his feet gently and wrapped him in a towel he had warmed in the dryer with the sheets.
Aerion allowed Dunk to lead him by the hand back into the bedroom. “I’m tired,” he yawned.
Duncan handed him the glass of water with the hydration pack mixed in. “We’ll go to bed, but drink this first. You’ll thank me in the morning.” Aerion drank without argument — Duncan was enjoying how agreeable drunk Aerion was. As Aerion drank Duncan pulled on his own pajamas and got out a pair for Aerion.
Duncan helped Aerion dress, and then turned off the lights as Aerion climbed into bed. Duncan climbed in after him.
“I love you,” Aerion mumbled sleepily, burrowing his face into the side of Duncan’s neck. One arm was wrapped tightly around Duncan’s waist and one leg was thrown across Duncan’s own. He felt like a living furnace, but Duncan didn’t mind. Aerion was his furnace and Dunk was content to burn alive if it meant he could feel Aerion’s heartbeat against his own chest, could feel Aerion’s soft breaths on his bare skin, could hold the thing he held most dear in the world close as he slept.
“I love you too,” Dunk said, pressing a soft kiss to Aerion’s forehead. “But you are definitely making me breakfast tomorrow to make up for this.” Aerion didn’t respond. He was already fast asleep, a soft smile on his face.
Yeah I heard they keep their pet loyal knight chained up in the training yard. Yeah they don’t let him in the castle. They don’t even take him on quests. It’s fucked up m’lady
Summary: Egg plays a game of Mario Kart with his older brothers. Family Fluff.
Warnings: Alcohol Mentions, very mild violence
Read below the cut or on AO3
A warm summer breeze ruffled the curtains. Outside the open window crickets chirped, somewhere in the distance an owl hooted, and a crescent moon hung high in the sky. Inside, a battle raged.
Daeron, Aerion, and Egg were in Daeron’s room, eyes glued to the television as they watched their chosen Mario Kart characters race around the track. Daeron as Dry Bones was in a tenuous first place with Aerion’s Bowser close behind. Egg as Toad was not doing nearly so well, trucking along near the back and frequently running off the road.
This was at least partially due to the fact that Egg had only the basic controller and not the steering wheel attachment. They only owned two of those and of course his brothers had claimed them first. Egg didn’t mind though, not really. He was happy just to be included. He wished Aemon were here and not away at that nerdy summer camp. He would’ve enjoyed this as much as Egg.
It had been one of those rare days when the brothers had actually gotten along. Daeron had still been drinking, but not as heavily as usual, and the drinks seemed to have put him in a happy mood as opposed to his usual maudlin one. Aerion had not exactly been kind, but he had not been cruel either, which was the best Egg could hope for. Daeron had even helped Egg build his new Star Wars Lego set, and Aerion hadn’t promptly smashed it despite being in the same room. He had made a snide comment about how Legos were “baby stuff” which Egg found ironic as he knew for a fact that Aerion had a Lego dragon figurine hidden in his closet.
Egg loved days like this, but they also tended to make him a bit sad. He wished he had these versions of his brothers all the time. He loved Daeron, and he wanted so badly to love Aerion too. He just wished Daeron would choose him over the drinking, that Aerion would choose him at all for any reason other than to be a target for cruelty.
Daeron let out a whoop that drew Egg’s attention back to the game. “Final lap and I’m still in first!!” Daeron crowed. Aerion only grunted in response, face set in a scowl of concentration, determined to catch up.
“Lucky Mario Kart doesn’t penalize drunk drivers,” Egg quipped. “They’d have gotten you at the starting line.”
“Sorry did you say something Egg? I can barely hear you from all the way back in 9th place” Daeron shot back, tossing a grin over his shoulder to his little brother.
The three continued to fight their way around the track with Aerion steadily gaining. The finish line was in sight. “If anything happens to me now, I swear I’ll go mental.” Daeron said.
At that exact moment Aerion threw the red shell he’d been holding on to for half the lap. “Go mental, bitch!”
Daeron let out a howl of shock and rage as on screen the red shell collided with Dry Bones, spinning him out as Aerion’s Bowser blew by, crossing the finish line first.
Aerion sprung to his feet, beaming with genuine delight in a way Egg had almost never seen from him. “The dragon never loses!” Aerion cried, beating his chest with a closed fist.
“Oh, he’s about to!” Daeron growled, rising. Using his size advantage he managed to get Aerion into a tight headlock, forcing him to bend at the waist. Daeron brought his fist to the top of Aerion’s head, rubbing his knuckles hard on Aerion’s scalp. “How does the dragon feel about noogies, huh?”
Aerion let out an indignant cry, flailing and trying to free himself from Daeron’s grasp. He looked so ridiculous, Egg couldn’t help laughing until tears were rolling down his cheeks.
Egg watched, cheering Daeron on, as the two reeled about the room in their struggle, knocking into furniture. Daeron’s lava lamp fell from the dresser with a crash, and his record display stand teetered dangerously.
Suddenly the door swung open violently. All three boys froze, Daeron still holding Aerion in a headlock, his knuckles still poised over Aerion’s scalp. Maekar stood in the doorway, wearing a bathrobe and a scowl. “Do you have any idea what time it is? It is two’o’clock in the fucking morning! Your sisters are sleeping and I have work in a few hours and… Daeron let go of your brother before he bites you!” Aerion was, indeed, at that very moment, angling himself to be able to take a chunk out of Daeron’s thigh. Daeron released his hold on his brother, shoving him away gently. Aerion straightened looking at Daeron reproachfully while smoothing his silvery hair. “Go. The fuck. To sleep.” Maekar turned and left, swinging the door shut behind him.
The three boys remained frozen for a moment looking at each other. Then all three dissolved into a fit of stifled giggles, laughing until their stomachs ached. When they finally regained their composure, Daeron turned to Aerion, “Rematch?” Aerion grinned and nodded. Daeron turned to Egg, “Do you think you can stay awake for another round?”
Egg beamed. “Absolutely!” He would stay up as long as he needed to, as long as he physically could. He wanted to hold on to these versions of his brothers as long as he could. He never wanted this night to end.
Summary: 1k words. A short piece of fluff in which Duncan learns of an Internet trend where people ask someone to get them an orange to see if they will peel it for them or not. He decides to try it on Aerion, and may or may not attach a little too much meaning to the outcome.
Warnings: Domestic Fluff!
Read below the cut or on AO3
It was a bright, chilly Sunday morning. Duncan sat in his recliner reading sports news in the morning paper. Aerion was curled on the couch, wearing a red velvet robe, his legs under him, clutching a mug in one hand and an over-large, dogeared novel in the other. House of Leaves the book was called. Aerion had read it at least twice before. Duncan had flipped through it once, curious about what Aerion found so fascinating, and hadn’t been able to make sense of it whatsoever. Some pages had only a single word, some had words printed backwards, on some pages the words spiraled around, or were printed in strange blocks. Hard to read, just like Aerion himself. Duncan had enjoyed looking at Aerion’s cramped little notes in the margins though, just as he enjoyed looking at Aerion.
Duncan was watching him, while trying not to appear as though he was watching him. He liked the way Aerion’s brow furrowed when he was absorbed in something. The way he tilted his head to the side when he read something he found particularly interesting . The way his bare right foot was never still, always bouncing, an outlet for Aerion’s never ending store of pent up energy.
Suddenly Aerion closed his book with a snap. Duncan jerked his head back to his paper to avoid being caught staring. Aerion stood and stretched languidly. “I’m going to get more coffee, do you want anything?” He asked.
Duncan thought for a moment, “I’ll take an orange, since you’re already going to the kitchen.” Aerion nodded, yawning, and padded off towards the kitchen carrying his mug.
Duncan had seen the trend while scrolling through Instagram Reels a few days earlier. As he understood it, you asked someone you loved to get you an orange and if they brought it to you peeled it meant they loved you as well, or at least cared enough to put in a little extra effort. He wasn’t sure what had made him think of it in the moment, or why he was now trying it on Aerion. Perhaps it was the fact that the words “I love you” had been running around his head every time he looked at Aerion for the past two weeks, and he just hadn’t found the courage to say them aloud. Now he sat unable to focus on his paper, feeling foolish about how much a simple orange meant to him, worrying himself about what he would do if Aerion came back with a whole, unpeeled orange.
Aerion returned a few moments later carrying his steaming mug in one hand and a bowl in the other, his robe swishing around his legs. He handed Duncan the bowl as he passed, kissing him lightly on the brow, then settled himself back on the couch. Duncan looked down at the bowl in his hands. Not only had Aerion peeled the orange, he had broken it into its individual segments, removed the extra stringy bits, and provided a fork for Dunk to eat it with. “A fork.” Duncan said, slightly incredulous.
“Yes,” Aerion said without looking up, “you don’t like when the juice gets on your fingers and then on your paper. A fork removes that problem.”
“True, enough.” Dunk responded dreamily, still staring down at the bowl in his hands, unmoving, his newspaper discarded to one side. He was powerless to stop the goofy grin slowly spreading across his face.
Aerion looked up from his book, eyebrow raised. “Why are you acting so strange? You asked for an orange, I brought you an orange. Not that complicated.”
“You really love me…” Duncan had not meant to say it aloud, not really. It had just come out. His heart swelling so much with feeling it seemed to force the words from him. He felt like clamping a hand over his big, stupid mouth, but stopped himself. Instead he picked up the fork and ferried a piece of orange to his mouth, the sweet juices filling his mouth as his cheeks burned scarlet.
Aerion recoiled almost as if struck. He narrowed his eyes, a look of annoyed confusion on his face. “Have you recently received a head injury I am unaware of? Are you perhaps suffering from early onset dementia? Could there be a gas leak in the apartment?” He shook his head, “I hold your hand in public, I learned to bake cherry tarts because they’re your favorite, I fell asleep in your arms last night, and I’m sitting here with you on a Sunday morning, because there is truly no place I’d rather be, but it’s an orange that tipped you off to the fact that I love you?”
Duncan released the breath he’d been holding in a soft chuckle. “I suppose so, yeah.” The goofy smile was back in place.
Aerion stood in an annoyed huff that Duncan knew was all show and no substance. “I ought to go get another orange and huck it right at your head. In fact I think I will.” He took several steps in the direction of the kitchen, having to pass right in front of Duncan, who reached out and grabbed him by the wrist. Aerion made a half hearted noise of protest as Duncan pulled him down into his lap, wrapping his large arms around Aerion’s narrow waist and holding him fast.
Aerion fought in vain to keep a smile off his face as Duncan gazed into his eyes, looking like a lovesick fool. “I love you too,” He said and kissed Aerion. It tasted of oranges.
Summary: 1.6k Words. Daeron has a nightmare about Duncan and a fire. He drunkenly goes to find Dunk to make sure he is alright, and maybe for another reason too.
I originally wrote this as a reader insert but ended up liking the idea better with Dunk x Daeron. Working on a part 2 currently. As always likes, comments, and Reblogs are appreciated :)
The moonlight streamed through the high window of Duncan’s small room within Summerhall. The hour was late and he wished only to wash and go to sleep. A basin of hot water had been brought to the room moments ago and he stood watching the steam curl from the water’s surface.
There was a sudden clatter in the passageway outside the room. Duncan turned just in time to see the door swing open and Daeron Targaryen stumble into the room, making it just inside the threshold before collapsing to the floor.
Dunk stood stunned for a moment, then recovering, hurried over to him, kneeling down beside him. Daeron was in terrible shape. Drunk, eyes unfocused, vomit and red wine stained his tunic, his hands shook slightly. “Daeron! What are you doing here? Are you alright? Oh, you’re a mess!” Duncan cried, hand hovering over his head, reluctant to touch him as he seemed to have gotten vomit in his hair as well.
“Needed to see you…” Daeron said, slurring his words, “had a dream…terrible…fire… had to see you were alright…” He looked up at Duncan, his lilac eyes full of tears, salty tracks of tears already spilled marred his face. “I know you probably hate me… you have every right to…but… I had to make sure.”
“Ah, Daeron,” Dunk said, “I’m just fine. And I don’t hate you, though, you’re right, I probably should. But you shouldn’t be here. You need to try and sleep this off.”
Daeron clung to Dunk’s arms, desperation plain on his face. “Please… please… don’t send me away from you… let me stay…please…I need to know you’re safe” he pleaded.
Duncan sighed deeply, but couldn’t help feeling sorry for the pathetic man before him. His pleading tear filled eyes had broken Duncan’s resolve. Daeron needed help, so help Dunk would provide. “Fine. If you insist. No good has come to me from arguing with princes. But we need to get you cleaned up.”
Duncan stood, pulling Daeron to his feet with him. Daeron swayed slightly but remained standing. “Here let’s get this soiled thing off of you,” Dunk said, and helped him pull his tunic over his head. His breeches were mercifully clean. “Leave those on.” Dunk instructed. “There’s hot water in the basin, you can use it to wash your hair at least.” Daeron just stared at him miserably. Duncan sighed again, “D’you need my help?” Daeron nodded.
Dunk guided Daeron over to the basin. Daeron allowed himself to be led without protest, and sat down beside the basin where instructed. Duncan dragged a chair over beside him, as Daeron watched him from the floor, his eyes soft and trusting. Duncan placed one hand on Daeron’s bare shoulder and one cradled his face as he gently tipped Daeron’s head backwards until his hair dipped into the water. Dunk used one large hand to scoop the water and pour it over Daeron’s hair, careful to avoid getting it in his eyes. He ran his fingers through Daeron’s sandy locks until they were fully soaked. Daeron closed his eyes and hummed in enjoyment. Dunk has never seen Daeron look so relaxed, leaning his head into Duncan’s touch as he gently washed his hair with sweet smelling soap. Whether this was due to the drink or something else, Duncan tried not to speculate.
Duncan finished washing and rinsing Daeron’s hair, then gently tilted his head back up. He wrapped his hair in a towel, and then rose, and crossed the room to his dresser. He picked up the comb lying there and seated himself on the edge of his bed. Well I’ve done this much, I might as well finish the job, Duncan thought. Daeron watched him from across the room, looking miserable, his head hanging down. “Come here.” Duncan said firmly.
Daeron didn’t bother to stand. He crawled on his hands and knees over to where Duncan sat. When he reached him he buried his face in his lap, wrapping his arms around Duncan’s lower legs, his damp hair wetting Dunk’s tunic. Duncan froze, unsure what to do. Duncan cared for Daeron as Egg’s brother, and did not wish to see him in such a sorry state, but he felt no more affection than that. He could feel the heat of Daeron’s breath on his thighs as Daeron let out a quiet sob. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I don’t deserve your kindness… I’m pathetic… and weak…” He may not even remember this tomorrow, he’s so far gone. I suppose the best thing I can do now is take care of him the best I can. For Egg’s sake at least.
Duncan stroked his damp head, “Hush now, enough of that. Sit up, and turn around. Let me comb your hair,” he murmured softly. Daeron slowly lifted his head from Duncan’s lap, like it pained him to do it, looking up at Dunk as though he was his one and only salvation, fresh tears were visible on his face. Duncan cupped his cheek gently and swiped one away with his thumb. Daeron pressed his face into his hand, then grabbed his wrist softly, turned his palm to his mouth, and pressed a kiss to it. Duncan pulled away with forced calm. Daeron’s gaze lingered on Dunk’s face for a moment longer, as if trying to read a message there, before he turned around, and settled at Duncan’s feet like an obedient dog, so that Duncan could run the comb through his shoulder length hair. He worked slowly, careful to avoid pulling, patiently working through each tangle. Daeron relaxed a bit more with each stroke of the comb, his bare shoulders against Dunk’s legs.
“There.” Duncan said, “All finished. Isn’t that better?”
Daeron turned and looked up at him, his eyes hazy with drink, fresh tears, and lust. He cupped Duncan’s clothed calf with his hand, stroking it gently. “Please. I could make you feel so good…s’all I wanna do… if you would just let me…let me do this for you…please…need you…need to show you how good I can be…for you...” He kissed the inside of your Dunk’s knee and Duncan felt the heat of his mouth through his breeches as it began to travel up his thigh leaving a trail of sloppy kisses, his stubble scraping against the fabric.
Duncan grabbed his chin in his large hand and pulled his face up, forcing him to look him in the eye. “Daeron. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing. I’ll only hurt you.” Duncan’s voice was gentle but firm.
“I don’t care…hurt me… break me… tear me apart. As long as it’s you…anything for you…” Duncan’s heart contracted, sensing what Daeron’s next words would be, he braced for their impact. “I love you… I’m sorry…,” he almost whispered, fresh tears had spilled from his eyes and now streamed down his cheeks. He looked so pathetic, Duncan felt a brief pang of disgust, but he knew it was his own fault. He should have thrown Daeron out the second he fell into the room. Duncan didn’t have the heart to throw him out now though.
Dunk slid off the edge of the bed and knelt on the floor beside Daeron. He wrapped his large arms around him and pulled him close. Daeron all but collapsed into his arms, burying his face in the side of his neck. Dunk could feel his hot moist breath, and feel his shoulders shaking gently with sobs. Duncan rubbed gentle circles on his back, speaking to him in a soothing voice, “It’s alright. I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I can’t be what you need me to be… I’m sorry I can’t feel what you want me to feel…” Duncan was sorry. Sorry in a way only a truly good and empathetic person could be for another.
Dunk held him for a long time, patiently waiting for him to calm down. Daeron finally went still and quiet in his arms. Dunk pulled back to look at him. He looked drained and exhausted, his eyes red rimmed and bloodshot from the tears and the drink, his nose tipped pink and running. In a moment of pure pity, Dunk cupped his face in both his hands and softly kissed Daeron’s forehead. Daeron sighed deeply. “You need to sleep now, Daeron. Things will look better in the morning.” He shook his head miserably, but did not fight when Dunk rose and pulled him to his feet. He was still unsteady on his feet. A trip across the castle with him in that state was out of the question, would have drawn too much attention. He would have to sleep in Dunk’s room tonight.
Duncan pulled back the blankets of his bed, sat Daeron down on the edge, and helped him pull off his boots. Daeron laid down and Dunk pulled the blanket over him, as he gazed lovingly up at Dunk. “Sleep now,” Dunk whispered softly, as he gently brushed a wayward lock of his hair back behind his ear. “I’m not going anywhere.” With this reassurance in his ear Daeron fell asleep almost instantly, drained by his emotions. Dunk sat watching him for a long while, knowing he would not sleep that night. He kept vigil, ensuring Daeron slept dreamlessly. Duncan knew that tomorrow, when Daeron woke, and realized what he did there would be sorrow, but for now, only peace.
Next Time Can We Please Meet At My Place? - Modern AU DunkDaeron
Summary: 3.5k words. Duncan attends the Targaryen Security Inc. Holiday Party where he meets a very handsome and mysterious stranger.
Warnings: Mild Smut, smoking, mentions of parent death, drunkenness, Daeron is sober in this AU
Still debating on whether to leave this as a one shot or write more parts! Comments/Reblogs welcome and appreciated! :)
Read on AO3:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/86948131
Duncan tugged self consciously at his sweater as he walked into the company Christmas Party. He has been working at Targaryen Security Inc. for three months; long enough to have basically figured out his job as a security guard, but certainly not long enough to be able to confidently walk into an office function while wearing a sweater with a massive glittery red-nosed reindeer on it. Ahh well, I promised Raymun, Dunk thought, nothing for it. At least there’s an open bar.
The Christmas party was a first for Targaryen Security. Baelor Targaryen had recently taken over the job of CEO from his father and believed the party would be good for office camaraderie and morale. Maekar, Baelor’s brother and Dunk’s boss, thought it was a stupid waste of time and money. Dunk liked Baelor a lot. He hadn’t had many direct interactions with the CEO, but he had proven to be a good man and excellent leader. Maekar, on the other hand, was a different story. He was competent, certainly, and commanding, but he was far from personable. He was gruff with everyone, but Dunk was fairly certain Maekar had it out for him specifically. Mostly due to an incident that had occurred during Dunk’s first week with Targaryen Security.
Duncan had been tasked with being security for a young socialite’s 13th birthday party. Her father, Mr. Ashford, had spared no expense. It should have been an easy gig, no problem whatsoever.
Unfortunately, Duncan hadn’t realized until he arrived at the party venue that Maekar’s youngest son, Aegon, had stowed away in the company car. At that point it was too late to take him back and Dunk hadn’t even thought to call the office to let them know what had happened; stupid in hindsight, very stupid.
The party had actually gone incredibly well. Mr. Ashford had looked rather dubious when his hired security guard arrived with a 9-year-old in tow, but Aegon, or Egg as he had asked to be called, had charmed both Mr. Ashford and Dunk himself. Egg was far more interested in helping Dunk in his duties as a security guard than in the birthday party itself, and the pair had got on like a house on fire, thoroughly enjoying each other's company. Duncan had completely forgotten about the potential for trouble until they returned to find Targaryen Security in an uproar, and furious Maekar Targaryen who had spent the afternoon searching for his son.
Duncan would have been fired on the spot if it hadn’t been for the intervention of Baelor who pointed out that Egg had made the decision to stow away and was safe and well taken care of thanks to Duncan. An extremely positive review left by Mr. Ashford doubly ensured that Duncan kept his job, but Maekar had never exactly warmed to him since the incident.
Ah well, no use dwelling on that now. Duncan looked around the main room of the office, now festively decorated for the holiday. He spotted Maekar near the center of the room looking annoyed next to his brother who was chatting warmly with several of the more junior employees.
“Dunk! There you are!” Raymun cried happily, hurrying over and throwing his arms around Duncan. Raymun had started working as a guard at Targaryen Security only a week before Dunk himself and the two had become fast friends. Dunk returned the hug and smiled, happy to see his friend, who had remained true to his word and wore a goofy Christmas sweater himself, this one featuring an elf.
Actually quite a few people are wearing Christmas sweaters, now that I look around. Worried for no reason as usual, Dunk.
“Are you hungry? The spread is pretty impressive actually! I mean it better be with the amount the company has been raking in, they ought to spend a bit on us, aye?” Raymun said, smiling.
“Starving! You wanna swing by the bar first?”
“Absolutely!” As the pair strode towards the bar, Lyonel Baratheon, who had clearly already visited it a time or two, reeled past them, slapping Dunk on the back as he went. “Looking good!” He tossed over his shoulder with a wink. Lyonel was the head of Human Resources, rather ironic since he was basically a walking HR violation himself, but Duncan liked him. He had also taken Dunk’s side after the unfortunate stowaway incident.
As he crossed the room, Duncan saw a man he didn’t recognize standing near the snack table chatting with Valarr, the young head of the risk assessment division. Duncan knew he must never have seen him before, because he certainly would have remembered; the stranger was the most beautiful man Dunk had ever seen. Tall, though not quite Dunk’s height, piercing pale blue eyes, the sort of bone structure one usually only saw in Greek statues and, most intriguingly, a horizontal scar that ran from the center of his left cheek and disappeared into the curtain of his shoulder length sandy blond hair. He was dressed in a way that suggested he’d had an emo phase in his youth that he never fully grew out of. His Car Seat Headrest T-shirt, slightly baggy ripped black jeans, and dirty converse stood out in the room full of festive attire and business casual.
“Dunk?” Raymun was looking at him with a raised eyebrow.
“Huh? Sorry, sorry zoned out there. Uh, do you know who that is over there?” Dunk asked, hoping the reason for his interest wasn’t too obvious.
One look at Raymun’s smirking face told him that his hope was in vain. “Uh no, I haven’t seen him around before. I don’t think he works here. You should go talk to him!” Raymun nudged him playfully.
“Don’t be daft. He wouldn’t be interested in the likes of me.” Duncan said, shaking his head. “And you’re one to talk.”
“You don’t know that, but fine, suit yourself. And for your information I was planning on asking Rowan out tonight.” The pair reached the bar and ordered their drinks: a cider for Raymun and a beer for Dunk. They retreated to the perimeter of the room to watch Lyonel and Humphrey Beesbury drunkenly dancing some sort of demented jig together.
Duncan found his gaze kept wandering back to the mysterious stranger. About the fifth time he glanced back towards him Dunk was startled to find the stranger staring back at him. Dunk looked away quickly, cheeks coloring. Just a coincidence. Relax. He waited a moment, and then looked back. The man was still looking at him, his head cocked slightly to the side, a small smile on his face.
“Dunk, don’t look now but I think your mystery man is coming over here.” Raymun said, laughing at the stricken expression on Duncan’s face. “I know when to make myself scarce. I think it’s a good time to find Rowan.”
“Wait, Raymun!” Dunk turned to his friend, but Raymun was already gone. He took a deep breath and turned back toward the stranger who now stood in front of him.
“Daeron,” the man said, holding out his hand. “I know almost everyone around here, but I haven’t seen you before. Are you new?”
Be cool Dunk, for the love of the Gods be cool. “I’m Duncan, and yeah, I’ve only been working here three months.” He said, shaking Daeron’s offered hand.
“Ah, Duncan! You’re the one who kidnapped Egg,” Daeron said laughing.
Dunk blushed. “Uh.. yes I suppose that was me. I didn’t kidnap him though, it was just a misunderstanding.”
“Oh, I know! Egg is an independent child and when he gets an idea in his head there’s really no stopping him. I found the story hilarious but hardly surprising when Valarr told me.”
“You’re a friend of Valarr’s, then? I saw you two talking earlier” Duncan asked, trying to steer the conversation to a safer topic.
“In a manner of speaking… he’s dating my ex” Daeron explained with a shrug. “We’re on good terms though, he’s better for her than I was. I can admit that now.”
“Oh,” was all Dunk managed, taken by surprise. You’re a fool, Dunk, to think he’d be interested in you. He’s straight. “Can I get you a drink?” Dunk asked casting around for something to say, his eyes settling on Daeron’s empty hands.
“Uh, no thank you! I’m sober actually. Six months.” Daeron said. Fuck. How much worse could this possibly be going? Duncan realized he must have looked stricken, because Daeron quickly followed up, “It’s ok! You had no way of knowing! You’re probably wondering what the hell I’m doing at an office Christmas party for a company I don’t work at. A party with an open bar no less.”
Duncan was extremely thankful for the out. “Yeah, I was kind of wondering that actually,” he said smiling.
“I worked here for 4 years, I left a year ago. But Baelor was still kind enough to shoot me an invite, and it’s nice to see everyone occasionally. Well, almost everyone. I could do without seeing Roland, but what can you do,” he leaned in towards Dunk conspiratorially, raising his hand to shield his mouth from any potential onlookers, “ex-situationship” he whispered, with a shrug.
Dunk nodded in understanding, though he wasn’t totally sure he knew exactly what a situationship was, he knew enough to know one thing: He’s not straight! Praise the gods! “So what do you do now?” Asked Dunk.
“Oh, I’m in school. Veterinary medicine,” Daeron said smiling. The two of them had moved closer to each other as the party grew louder and more raucous around them. “Small animals only though. Not a fan of horses to be honest. I used to ride, but got thrown off one when I was 17, and the great beast stepped on me and broke my leg. Haven’t ridden since, and don’t see a reason to try and cure them of their ailments either. But enough about me, what brought you to Targaryen Security?”
“My adoptive father worked in security his whole life, but for a different company. He always spoke very highly of Baelor Targaryen, though, and when I heard he’d taken over the company, I thought why not apply? I think it’s what the old man would have wanted. He passed on four months ago.” Dunk said a little sadly.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Daeron placed a gentle hand on Duncan’s arm, a look of genuine sympathy on his face. “I lost my mother seven years ago, it’s really hard.”
An extremely intoxicated Humphrey Beesbury chose that moment to stumble directly into Daeron, sloshing red wine onto him and the floor. Duncan saw Daeron visibly tense, his jaw tightening. Fuck, getting sloshed with wine probably isn’t super helpful for sobriety. Beesbury uttered a slurred “shorry,” and stumbled away.
Daeron turned back to Dunk with a forced smile, tension still visible in the way he held his shoulders, “I need some air. And a cigarette. Care to join me?”
Duncan followed Daeron outside where he pulled a pack of cigarettes and lighter from his back pocket. “I managed to give up alcohol, but I have to hold on to some vices. Want one?”
“Please.” Duncan rarely smoked sober, but this seemed like a special occasion. Daeron took one cigarette from the pack and placed it between his lips. He looked Duncan in the eye as he lit it and took a slow drag. He took the cigarette from between his lips and handed it to Duncan. Then lit one for himself.
Duncan desperately tried to ignore the stirring this had caused in his groin, not to mention the fact that it was possibly the most erotic thing Dunk had ever witnessed. He also tried hard not to think about the fact that putting the cigarette to his lips was essentially an indirect kiss. As he placed the cigarette between his lips he imagined he could taste Daeron on it. He took a drag and racked his brain for something to say. Daeron’s eyes were still on him, watching.
“So, uh, how did you get your scar? Was that from the horse as well?” Duncan managed, finally.
Daeron let out a humorless laugh. “No, not the horse. That is a story for another time, I think. It’s the reason I’m sober. Bit of a mood killer actually.”
“Mood?” Duncan asked before he could stop himself, hope rising.
“You know, the holiday spirit! Festive cheer and goodwill to men and all that. This is meant to be a Christmas party after all.” Daeron said, rolling his eyes, though not unkindly.
“Oh, right, yeah” Gods is there any measure of a fool I fail to meet? I’m reading into this… he probably isn’t even in-
Duncan’s thoughts were interrupted by Daeron suddenly looking at him with a new heat in his eyes. “Do you want to get out of here?” He asked, coyly.
Duncan answered before his brain could get in the way, “Yes!”
“Excellent! I’ll drive.”
As Dunk followed Daeron to his car he pulled out his phone and tapped a quick text to Raymun: “Something came up. Have to head out! Good luck with Rowan!”
The response came almost immediately: “Have fun! ;)”
————————-
Daeron parked the car in the driveway of an extremely large house in a very nice neighborhood. He must have roommates… or else he’s insanely rich… Dunk tried to push these thoughts from his head as he followed Daeron into the house, his heart racing. Daeron led him to an upstairs bedroom, and closed the door behind them. Duncan caught only a brief glimpse of a charmingly messy bedroom before Daeron grabbed him by the front of his sparkly reindeer sweater and pulled him into a searing kiss.
Duncan wrapped one arm around Daeron’s waist, and threaded his left hand into his sandy hair, holding Daeron to him as he deepened the kiss. Daeron moaned into his mouth, then pulled back breathing hard. He pulled Duncan’s sweater up over his head leaving him shirtless, then ran his hands over Dunk’s chest and stomach. He pulled Duncan back towards him by the waistband of his jeans. Kissing and nipping along Duncan’s jawline and down his neck. Dunk could feel his hard cock straining against his jeans. Daeron placed a hand over it and squeezed. A broken moan escaped Duncan’s mouth and he grabbed Daeron by the jaw, pressing their mouths back together.
Without breaking the kiss, Daeron undid the fly of Duncan’s jeans and began pushing them down. Dunk stepped out of them leaving him in his boxer briefs, which left very little to the imagination. Daeron stepped back and surveyed him for a moment, a smile on his face as he hummed in approval. Duncan couldn’t help blushing. Daeron took him by the shoulders and shoved him into a sitting position on the bed, then pulled off his own T-shirt, and dropped to his knees between Duncan’s spread legs.
Daeron looked up at Duncan through his lashes. “You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” Dunk said breathlessly. He took Daeron’s chin in his hand and ran his thumb over Daeron’s kiss swollen bottom lip. He pushed lightly and Daeron accepted Duncan’s thumb into his mouth, sucking wantonly. Duncan watched him, mouth slightly open in wonder. Daeron released his thumb and looked up at him with his head slightly cocked and a look on his face that said he knew exactly what effect he was having. I may be in real trouble here… I can’t already be falling for him… Then Daeron was planting a line of wet open mouthed kisses up Duncan’s thigh and sliding his fingers into the waistband of Duncan’s underwear and tugging downward, banishing all coherent thought from Duncan’s head for the remainder of the evening.
————————-
Duncan awoke early the next morning, weak sunlight filtering through the closed blinds. Daeron was still asleep next to him, sprawled on his back, hair splayed on the pillow, lips parted, beautiful. I wonder if he has class today… I should make coffee for him… for us l mean. Gods I’m already acting like he’s my boyfriend.
Even with that rather worrisome thought in mind Duncan slid out of the bed as gently and quietly as he could. He looked around on the floor until he found his underwear, a pair of Daeron’s sweat pants, and the T-Shirt Daeron had been wearing the night before. Dunk pulled them on, the pants were a bit too short but still wearable, and slipped out of the room.
He padded barefoot down the stairs to where he assumed the kitchen would be. He found it immaculately clean, with high end appliances on the counters. How does Daeron afford this? He must have roommates. There was a fancy espresso machine that Dunk had no idea how to use and a traditional coffee maker that Dunk considered a much safer bet.
As the coffee brewed, Dunk looked around the cabinets for mugs. He found them and grabbed the first two he saw: a Targaryen Security mug and a #1 Dad mug. Huh, maybe it’s meant to be ironic? Or does he have a kid? He took the mugs back over to the coffee pot and went to pour the coffee.
“That’s my mug.” Duncan almost dropped both the coffee pot and the mug. I know that voice… fuck, it can’t be… He turned around and found himself face to face with Maekar Targaryen, wearing a black T-shirt, plaid pajama pants, slippers, and a scowl.
“S-sorry, sir,” Dunk stammered out, handing him the coffee filled mug.
Maekar took it and rolled his eyes, “Duncan, you are standing in my kitchen at 7AM, wearing my son’s clothes. We can dispense with the ‘sirs’ for now,” he said bluntly.
“Yes, S-, uh, right,” Dunk managed. Maekar let out a disgusted snort, shook his head , and walked back the way he came. Dunk stared after him for several moments, trying to get his racing heart under control. With forced calm he grabbed another mug from the cabinet, a plain red one this time, and filled it with coffee. He took a deep breath. Fuck…Fuck…FUCK!!
Duncan rushed back to Daeron’s bedroom as quickly as he could without spilling the coffee. He entered the room and closed the door behind him, finding Daeron awake, propped up on his elbows.
“You’re a Targaryen!?” Duncan whisper-yelled at him, “Why didn’t you tell me Maekar is your father!?”
Daeron yawned and stretched languidly. “Good morning to you too. Is that coffee for me?” Daeron asked, sitting up and leaning forward to gently take the mug from Duncan’s hand. Dunk just stared at him, incredulous. “To address your questions: firstly, yes, I am a Targaryen. Secondly, you never asked. I guess that’s what you get for sleeping with a man when you don’t even know his last name hmmm?”
Dunk sat down hard on the edge of the bed. “Fair enough…” he sighed.
Daeron laughed and threw an arm around his waist pulling him down to plant a kiss on his head. “You look good in my clothes though.” Dunk smiled, beginning to relax again. It’s not like Maekar can fire me for dating his son right? No. No, not dating, just hooking up with his son, Dunk, stop getting ahead of yourself.
Daeron started suddenly. “What time is it?”
Duncan checked his watch. “It’s 7:25. Why?”
“Shit! I have a class at 8:00!” Daeron groaned, flinging himself out of the bed. Dunk couldn’t help admiring his naked form as he scrounged around for clothes.
“Need me to leave?” Duncan asked, hoping the answer would be no, but knowing that was unlikely.
“I’m sorry, Duncan. Can you see yourself out? I really can’t afford to be late again,” Daeron said, grimacing as he tugged on a pair of jeans.
“Yeah, of course, no trouble! Don’t want you to be late.” Dunk rose from the bed and stripped off Daeron’s clothes, pulling on his own jeans and sweater from the night before. “Uh… I guess I’ll see you around then…” He turned to leave.
“Duncan, wait!” Daeron opened a drawer in his bedside table snatching out a pen and scrap of paper. “I need your number! How else will I be seeing you around?”
“Oh right, of course!” Dunk said, relieved. He jotted down his number and Daeron took the paper and tucked it into his jeans pocket, then grabbed Duncan by the hand and pulled him close, kissing him hard on the mouth.
“I’ll call you.” He said, releasing Dunk, and turning back to readying himself for class.
“I’ll be waiting,” Dunk said and slipped out of the room, feeling a bit foolish but unable to contain his smile. He hurried downstairs and out the front door before he could run into Maekar again. Outside the air was chilly and the clouds promised rain. Duncan called an Uber and walked to the end of the driveway to wait.
Summary: 1.6k Words. Daeron has a nightmare about Duncan and a fire. He drunkenly goes to find Dunk to make sure he is alright, and maybe for another reason too.
I originally wrote this as a reader insert but ended up liking the idea better with Dunk x Daeron. Working on a part 2 currently. As always likes, comments, and Reblogs are appreciated :)
The moonlight streamed through the high window of Duncan’s small room within Summerhall. The hour was late and he wished only to wash and go to sleep. A basin of hot water had been brought to the room moments ago and he stood watching the steam curl from the water’s surface.
There was a sudden clatter in the passageway outside the room. Duncan turned just in time to see the door swing open and Daeron Targaryen stumble into the room, making it just inside the threshold before collapsing to the floor.
Dunk stood stunned for a moment, then recovering, hurried over to him, kneeling down beside him. Daeron was in terrible shape. Drunk, eyes unfocused, vomit and red wine stained his tunic, his hands shook slightly. “Daeron! What are you doing here? Are you alright? Oh, you’re a mess!” Duncan cried, hand hovering over his head, reluctant to touch him as he seemed to have gotten vomit in his hair as well.
“Needed to see you…” Daeron said, slurring his words, “had a dream…terrible…fire… had to see you were alright…” He looked up at Duncan, his lilac eyes full of tears, salty tracks of tears already spilled marred his face. “I know you probably hate me… you have every right to…but… I had to make sure.”
“Ah, Daeron,” Dunk said, “I’m just fine. And I don’t hate you, though, you’re right, I probably should. But you shouldn’t be here. You need to try and sleep this off.”
Daeron clung to Dunk’s arms, desperation plain on his face. “Please… please… don’t send me away from you… let me stay…please…I need to know you’re safe” he pleaded.
Duncan sighed deeply, but couldn’t help feeling sorry for the pathetic man before him. His pleading tear filled eyes had broken Duncan’s resolve. Daeron needed help, so help Dunk would provide. “Fine. If you insist. No good has come to me from arguing with princes. But we need to get you cleaned up.”
Duncan stood, pulling Daeron to his feet with him. Daeron swayed slightly but remained standing. “Here let’s get this soiled thing off of you,” Dunk said, and helped him pull his tunic over his head. His breeches were mercifully clean. “Leave those on.” Dunk instructed. “There’s hot water in the basin, you can use it to wash your hair at least.” Daeron just stared at him miserably. Duncan sighed again, “D’you need my help?” Daeron nodded.
Dunk guided Daeron over to the basin. Daeron allowed himself to be led without protest, and sat down beside the basin where instructed. Duncan dragged a chair over beside him, as Daeron watched him from the floor, his eyes soft and trusting. Duncan placed one hand on Daeron’s bare shoulder and one cradled his face as he gently tipped Daeron’s head backwards until his hair dipped into the water. Dunk used one large hand to scoop the water and pour it over Daeron’s hair, careful to avoid getting it in his eyes. He ran his fingers through Daeron’s sandy locks until they were fully soaked. Daeron closed his eyes and hummed in enjoyment. Dunk has never seen Daeron look so relaxed, leaning his head into Duncan’s touch as he gently washed his hair with sweet smelling soap. Whether this was due to the drink or something else, Duncan tried not to speculate.
Duncan finished washing and rinsing Daeron’s hair, then gently tilted his head back up. He wrapped his hair in a towel, and then rose, and crossed the room to his dresser. He picked up the comb lying there and seated himself on the edge of his bed. Well I’ve done this much, I might as well finish the job, Duncan thought. Daeron watched him from across the room, looking miserable, his head hanging down. “Come here.” Duncan said firmly.
Daeron didn’t bother to stand. He crawled on his hands and knees over to where Duncan sat. When he reached him he buried his face in his lap, wrapping his arms around Duncan’s lower legs, his damp hair wetting Dunk’s tunic. Duncan froze, unsure what to do. Duncan cared for Daeron as Egg’s brother, and did not wish to see him in such a sorry state, but he felt no more affection than that. He could feel the heat of Daeron’s breath on his thighs as Daeron let out a quiet sob. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I don’t deserve your kindness… I’m pathetic… and weak…” He may not even remember this tomorrow, he’s so far gone. I suppose the best thing I can do now is take care of him the best I can. For Egg’s sake at least.
Duncan stroked his damp head, “Hush now, enough of that. Sit up, and turn around. Let me comb your hair,” he murmured softly. Daeron slowly lifted his head from Duncan’s lap, like it pained him to do it, looking up at Dunk as though he was his one and only salvation, fresh tears were visible on his face. Duncan cupped his cheek gently and swiped one away with his thumb. Daeron pressed his face into his hand, then grabbed his wrist softly, turned his palm to his mouth, and pressed a kiss to it. Duncan pulled away with forced calm. Daeron’s gaze lingered on Dunk’s face for a moment longer, as if trying to read a message there, before he turned around, and settled at Duncan’s feet like an obedient dog, so that Duncan could run the comb through his shoulder length hair. He worked slowly, careful to avoid pulling, patiently working through each tangle. Daeron relaxed a bit more with each stroke of the comb, his bare shoulders against Dunk’s legs.
“There.” Duncan said, “All finished. Isn’t that better?”
Daeron turned and looked up at him, his eyes hazy with drink, fresh tears, and lust. He cupped Duncan’s clothed calf with his hand, stroking it gently. “Please. I could make you feel so good…s’all I wanna do… if you would just let me…let me do this for you…please…need you…need to show you how good I can be…for you...” He kissed the inside of your Dunk’s knee and Duncan felt the heat of his mouth through his breeches as it began to travel up his thigh leaving a trail of sloppy kisses, his stubble scraping against the fabric.
Duncan grabbed his chin in his large hand and pulled his face up, forcing him to look him in the eye. “Daeron. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing. I’ll only hurt you.” Duncan’s voice was gentle but firm.
“I don’t care…hurt me… break me… tear me apart. As long as it’s you…anything for you…” Duncan’s heart contracted, sensing what Daeron’s next words would be, he braced for their impact. “I love you… I’m sorry…,” he almost whispered, fresh tears had spilled from his eyes and now streamed down his cheeks. He looked so pathetic, Duncan felt a brief pang of disgust, but he knew it was his own fault. He should have thrown Daeron out the second he fell into the room. Duncan didn’t have the heart to throw him out now though.
Dunk slid off the edge of the bed and knelt on the floor beside Daeron. He wrapped his large arms around him and pulled him close. Daeron all but collapsed into his arms, burying his face in the side of his neck. Dunk could feel his hot moist breath, and feel his shoulders shaking gently with sobs. Duncan rubbed gentle circles on his back, speaking to him in a soothing voice, “It’s alright. I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I can’t be what you need me to be… I’m sorry I can’t feel what you want me to feel…” Duncan was sorry. Sorry in a way only a truly good and empathetic person could be for another.
Dunk held him for a long time, patiently waiting for him to calm down. Daeron finally went still and quiet in his arms. Dunk pulled back to look at him. He looked drained and exhausted, his eyes red rimmed and bloodshot from the tears and the drink, his nose tipped pink and running. In a moment of pure pity, Dunk cupped his face in both his hands and softly kissed Daeron’s forehead. Daeron sighed deeply. “You need to sleep now, Daeron. Things will look better in the morning.” He shook his head miserably, but did not fight when Dunk rose and pulled him to his feet. He was still unsteady on his feet. A trip across the castle with him in that state was out of the question, would have drawn too much attention. He would have to sleep in Dunk’s room tonight.
Duncan pulled back the blankets of his bed, sat Daeron down on the edge, and helped him pull off his boots. Daeron laid down and Dunk pulled the blanket over him, as he gazed lovingly up at Dunk. “Sleep now,” Dunk whispered softly, as he gently brushed a wayward lock of his hair back behind his ear. “I’m not going anywhere.” With this reassurance in his ear Daeron fell asleep almost instantly, drained by his emotions. Dunk sat watching him for a long while, knowing he would not sleep that night. He kept vigil, ensuring Daeron slept dreamlessly. Duncan knew that tomorrow, when Daeron woke, and realized what he did there would be sorrow, but for now, only peace.
Boy, stop gaping. See to my horse. I'm-- I'm not a stable boy, m'lord. Not clever enough? Um… Well, if you can't manage horses, then fetch me some wine and a pretty wench. Oh, m'lord pardons. I'm-- I'm no serving man, either. I have-- I have the honor to be a knight. Oh. Well… knighthood has fallen on sad days.
FINN BENNETT as Prince Aerion 'Brightflame' Targaryen
A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms 1.02: "Hard Salt Beef"
