i DON'T need them to kiss i need them to come to the sobering realisation that their souls are merged and no part of them is extricable from the other anymore
We all know Baelor has a pretty voice that makes Dunk melt. But Dunk also has such a pretty voice, I would like to read a fic where it makes Baelor melt and giggle and feel really silly and young again about it.
I have no idea how tf this would work, timeline- and age-wise. However.
AU where Baelor didn't actually die at Ashford but everyone still BELIEVES he died. In reality, he just fell unconscious with a bad case of brain damage before a spy (for who you? No idea either. But there are enough people who have a bone to pick with the Targs at this point) disguised at as a maester whisked him away from Dunk's arms and quickly came up with a lie to tell everyone else. Stealing and swapping out the body to make it look like they'd really burned him at his funeral pyre.
The rest of the story then proceeds to go relativley normally, same way it did in canon, until shortly after Egg's ascension to the throne. Dunk's out on his last travel tour through Westeros before settling down and becomming a Kingsguard on the request of Egg, trying to savour his freedom a little bit longer before being stuck in Kingslanding or whatever, just wanting to have a good time. When suddenly, out of nowhere, he stumbles upon an abnormally familiar looking slave while out in the less savoury parts of the land.
here, have a little pre-dunk/baelor, getting ready to ride into battle.
(sorry to say it's not part of any larger fic)
“Are you afraid, Ser Duncan?” Baelor asked. It was without judgement.
“No, Your Grace.” Dunk said, though he had thrown up thrice that morning while Egg was helping him get his armor on, and still felt vaguely shaky.
“I'll have the truth, if it pleases you.”
Baelor would have the truth whether it pleased him or not, Dunk knew, so he did not bother to lie a second time. “I've not fought in a proper battle before, not like this, the closest thing was Ashford Meadow but that was just against seven. Thousands is madness.”
“You do not have to fight them all yourself Ser. Our forces are evenly matched. Can you fight one man and win?”
It was not near as simple as that, Dunk knew, he answered regardless, “Yes, Your Grace.”
“A sorry knight you'd be if you'd said no,” Baelor said lightly, “Do you trust that the men on either side of you can fight one man and win?” Dunk looked left, and then right. Ser Donnel, Ser Roland.
“I’m not so sure about Ser Donnel, I've seen him in the training yard,” Dunk said, which earned a loud protest from Ser Donnel, and a bark of laughter from Ser Roland. The corners of Baelor's lips quirked up in the barest hint of a smile, but Dunk knew he was waiting for a proper answer. “I reckon they'd both manage one man though Your Grace.”
“And you must trust that I can best one man,” Baelor said, and there was no question this time. Dunk thought he could best ten men. A hundred. He did not say so, he only nodded. Baelor continued, “Excellent. The same is true for each man among us. That is all that must be done, and the battle will be won.”
Baelor was oversimplifying it terribly. There were archers and some men might be trampled by horses or desert before the battle or be killed in the first charge and once the battle started it was never really just one man fighting another, you had to be ready for another attacker and Dunk had to watch Baelor too, and the kingsguard, and
Baelor seemed to be able to read Dunk's thoughts, he put his hand on Dunk's shoulder and gave him a gentle shake, “Ser Duncan. One man, that is all. And once you have done that, one more man, and one more after that. You will serve me admirably, I have no doubt.”
It was all very easy for Baelor to say, who had been putting down rebellions in his father's name since the Blackfyres had staked their first claim at the iron throne. Had he ever been sick from nerves while getting his armor on? Dunk doubted it. The thought made Dunk smile despite himself, he could hear Ser Arlan’s voice in his head. As brave as Baelor Breakspear. He did not think the old man had ever said that thinking one day Dunk would ride into battle alongside the man himself. To imagine trying to explain everything that had happened since Ser Arlan's death to lead to this moment was so absurd that it startled a small, perhaps mildly hysterical, laugh out of Dunk.
Baelor raised an eyebrow in question. Dunk flushed, it probably sounded like he had been laughing at Baelor. Embarrassing though it was, he hurried to explain himself.
“It's just that when I was a boy the old man used to tell me I had to be as brave as Baelor Breakspear. It seems I've not yet managed it.”
Dunk had some idea that if he looked at the kingsguard now they would be making exaggerated faces of disgust, as they often did whenever Dunk recalled some exaggerated tale of Baelor's gallantry, or bravery, or chivalry. They had served the prince for many years now, and the shine of legend had long since worn off, replaced by easy familiarity, a closeness with Baelor that Dunk was not sure he would ever be able to manage without embarrassing himself.
It was worth it though, for all the tales and songs and stories about him, the man was apparently not immune to flattery; his face broke into a proper smile, and while his eyes were alight with amusement, it did not feel to Dunk like it was at his expense. Baelor seemed to sit a little straighter in the saddle, looking as proud as a dragon ought to.
“Is that so? Well, I best set a good example then.” Baelor said, and to Dunk's immense surprise, winked at him. Dunk sat there rather stupidly for a moment, trying to come up with an appropriate response, but before he could manage Baelor said, “I must go have a word with Ser Leo, I'll be back,” and put his spurs to his mare and cantered away.
The moment he was gone, Dunk turned to Ser Roland and Ser Donnel, looking for some confirmation that he had not imagined the entire interaction. The two had clearly been suppressing their laughter, but once Baelor was out of earshot they erupted in mirth.
“Oh do be brave Ser Duncan,” Ser Donnel cooed at him, which sent Ser Roland into another fit of laughter that rendered him beyond words. Dunk bore their mockery silently, as he rather thought the whole thing was so absurd he ought to be laughing himself.
Once they had both calmed down, some time later, Ser Roland said “Honestly Dunk, you can't keep telling him that shit, it goes straight to his head, I mean did you see how he rode off,” he thrust his shoulders back and puffed out his chest, and spurred his horse to canter in a tight circle around Dunk, and at that, Dunk did laugh.
bc i stay loving epistolaries but also i imagine Dunk can’t write super well for the first few years of their relationship. Instead, he does send Baelor beautiful sketches of where he’s been (flowers and trees and cute animals and sketches of people who have been kind to him, market scenes, etc.) and little cartoons making fun of people—Maekar with steam coming out of his ears at the sight of Aegon’s bald head, Maester the donkey lecturing Daeron on his drinking habits, tiny Eggs with egg themed captions (he’s sprawled in the dust post training and the caption is ‘scrambled egg’; he’s sweating under the dornish, ‘boiled egg’).
baelor does keep them all. He ends up pulling some of them out so often, he needs to get them framed in glass so the oil of his hands don’t degrade more of the paper.
shoutout to everyone in small fandoms who takes a character with one minute of screentime and decides to build an entire universe around them. to the oc creators, the rarepair shippers, the canon-divergence enthusiasts and the people who can’t stop asking “but what if?” and then proceed to spend 50k words answering their own question.
i genuinely think your joy is contagious. fandoms grow because people see someone having fun and think, “wait, i want to play too.” <3
On a serious note, Maekar would defend Baelor's right to marry Dunk so hard in public despite being against their relationship in private
That's his brother his best friend his family, if he wants to marry a man he can bloody well do so! And being petty and stubborn, Maekar would take it so far
He'd fistfight the high septon! And marry some guy himself just to make a point! The peasants are rioting cause they want to be openly gay too? LET THEM! Maekar officiates lesbian weddings now, everybody gets a cake and a "Congratulations on your fucking marriage!" He doesn't remember his new husband's name and the guy is some random knight who thought they were only joking, now he has to look after 5 kids and fluff Maekar's pillows or whatever
