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As good a time as any to remind folks of the 14 properties of "ur-fascism" (described by Umberto Eco, who grew up in Italy under Mussolini, in his 1995 essay Ur-Fascism). Not all need be present for single regime to be fascist, but a Venn diagram of all fascist regimes will cover them all.
CULT OF TRADITION. The old ways are best. The New is not worthwhile.
REJECT MODERNISM The development of Western philosophy post-Enlightenment is seen as a descent into depravity. See also : Reject post-modernism, which is seen as an even greater descent into irrationality.
ACTION FOR ACTION'S SAKE. Action is to be taken without reflection or introspection - that's for weaklings and degenerates. Often seen in a derision of "intellectual elites".
DISAGREEMENT IS TREASON. Analytical criticism cannot be allowed. A pantomime of discourse may be allowed, but only within the accepted framework and only if reaching the foregone conclusion.
FEAR OF DIFFERENCE. Outsiders are your enemy. Those who are different are evil and want to corrupt you and destroy all you hold dear.
APPEAL TO A FRUSTRATED MIDDLE CLASS Capitalising on genuine frustrations by pointing them toward convenient scapegoats. Real concerns used a recruiting tools.
OBSESSION WITH A PLOT. There is a conspiracy run by THEM. You are besieged by THEM. THEY are behind all your ills. THEY are working in the shadows to enslave and destroy you.
THE ENEMY IS BOTH STRONG AND WEAK. When rhetorically convenient, THEY are all-powerful. When rhetorically convenient, THEY are feeble, stupid, weak. The rhetorical focus shifts regardless of self-contradiction, because all that matters is positioning the enemy where the speaker's goal requires them to be at any given moment.
PACIFISM IS THE ENEMY. LIFE IS ETERNAL WAR. There must always be an enemy to fight. When that enemy is defeated, another must be found. When they cannot be found, they must be created, even from within. There is always the promise of a Final Solution bringing Ultimate Triumph, but it can never be achieved.
CONTEMPT FOR THE WEAK. Elitism disguised as populism. Everyone of US is superior to THEM, cockroaches and drains on society that they are. But people are sheep who require strong leaders, who are by their nature superior to others.
EVERYONE IS TAUGHT TO BE THE HERO. A CULT OF DEATH. Where in myth the hero is exceptional, in fascism everyone must be the hero. They crave heroic death, the reward for heroic life. In seeking it, they send others to die. (See also: Militarism).
MACHISMO. Disdain for women and femininity. Intolerance of non-standard sexuality and gender expression.
SELECTIVE POPULISM. The People are viewed as a monolith with a single will, as interpreted (in reality, determined) by the leaders. Democratic institutions are viewed as illegitimate because they run counter to the narrative of the existence of a single Voice Of The People.
NEWSPEAK. Vocabulary cannot expand. If anything, it must shrink. Variation and nuance in dialogue means variation and nuance in thought. This cannot be allowed. Therefore categories must be binary. Definitions are simple and limited. If it cannot be boiled down into snappy catchphrase it does not exist.
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reading a historical romance novel and reflecting on the way these stories often present woke nobility for the contemporary reader. a big thing is servants. you can’t not have servants in those times but many modern readers think “but I would never have servants. it would be so weird to have servants” and in order to make the protagonists of the story more relatable they are actually friends with the servants. but flip your perspective and think of it from the side of the servants. wouldn’t it be so awful if your boss was always trying to be friends with you. a really common thing you’ll see is the woke baronet having tea in the kitchen with the servants bc he’s not like other baronets. but what if your boss wanted to hang out and talk during your lunch break every day. not so charming when you think about it that way
#okay but now what is the optimal way to be a good boss in this situation i genuinely wanna know#its easy to guess what makes a bad boss or a mid boss. but what is a good boss#specifically in such a highly structured hierarchal situation (via @rainbowroach)
HELLO you are asking questions that literature and poetry THROUGHOUT the middle ages has asked, and it is from this questioning that we derive things like the Codes of Chivalry (which is not "how to treat a noble lady really nice" but is actually "how to be an ethical person when you're rich and you own a horse" and includes such things as "don't run people over with your horse")
In fact I daresay you already know instinctively just from cultural osmosis what a good boss -- a good liege lord -- is and does based on the tropes that have survived to the current day and the kinds of things that get Hugely Praised in things like legends of King Arthur.
A good boss (liege lord) is:
Merciful. He is not having his peasants killed for things like poaching rabbits during a famine. In fact, he is working to mitigate famine. During times of individual hardship, he might negotiate with a peasant for a payment plan on their annual rent.
Patient. He is not impulsive, he does not lose his temper.
Prudent. He makes choices that are thoughtful, considered, conservative (in the sense of not needlessly risky--he's not investing his entire fortune in having everyone plant an unproven crop). He is making sure local infrastructure like roads and public buildings are maintained and kept in good nick.
Gentle. He doesn't haul off and slap a servant or a tenant for breaking a dish or making a mistake. He doesn't abuse animals, his wife or children, or his employees. He doesn't rape the servants.
Generous (both in money and in spirit). He is not extorting the peasants for an amount of rent that is beyond their means, he is not raising taxes every year to cover his own lavish lifestyle. He is paying his servants a living wage (or, if wages are low, he's giving them room/board/clothing to make up the difference). If someone in a tenant's family dies, the lord is sending a gift of condolence, or helping to pay for the funeral, or possibly even ATTENDING the funeral and speaking a few kind words about the deceased, ESPECIALLY if they were a really upstanding and important member of the community. If one of his tenants is gravely sick, the lord is sending a basket of food or paying for a doctor. He is giving charitably (generally this will be, like, a bequest to the church so that they can run a hospital or an orphanage or a school for the local village children).
Pious. This classically means "goes to church, submits with humility to God" but to me this quality is subtextually standing in for "maintaining an ongoing sense of Perspective that HE'S not god, that there are higher powers he is Accountable to, that he too can be Judged, etc, so that he doesn't end up going on a weird fucked up power trip"
Humble. One of the most admiring things you hear about a lord doing in literature and epic poetry is, "He ate off of wooden plates while his followers ate off of gold and silver." Humility isn't about being meek, it's just about not thinking so much of yourself that you turn your nose up and sneer at what "lesser" people do. In other words: Don't be a fucking diva. If your carriage gets stuck in the mud, climb out and help everybody else push, you're not gonna die from getting mud on your shoes.
Condescending. This word has changed wildly in meaning/tone over the last couple centuries -- it's now a rude thing to do (because we've done away with legal social hierarchies, so someone acting like they're lowering themselves to your level IS insulting), but in older times, a high-ranking person "condescending" to a servant was worthy of praise and admiration: it means they were setting aside rank and privilege to speak to them with the easygoing, friendly respect and compassion they'd give a peer. This is things like... Treats those beneath him with courtesy and respect (ie: listens soberly and attentively when one of his servants or tenants comes to complain about a problem). Having a sense of humor and kindness about it when the lord and a servant both come around a corner at the same time and run into each other and the servant gets knocked to the ground and starts babbling apologies--the condescending (positive) lord helps them to their feet with his own hands and cracks a joke to show them that it's ok (as opposed to just walking off without a word or insulting/scolding them). This is also things like trusting a farmer, woodcutter, or artisan to speak with expertise about their own livelihood and taking their advice into consideration if they tell the lord that one of his ideas won't work.
Good boundaries. The ethical liege lord knows that it's normal for the staff to probably be softly bitching about him in private (even with a really good boss, we all grumble from time to time). He's not eavesdropping on them, he's not going into the staff areas where they should reasonably expect to have a degree of privacy, etc.
Righteous and protective of "the weak". The "weak" here doesn't necessarily mean physically weak, this is often used in the sense of someone politically or socially weak, aka The Marginalized -- the poor, the disabled, women, children, the elderly, etc. If a lord sees someone like this being mistreated or abused, he's supposed to step in and put a stop to that.
Committed to reciprocity. In a highly hierarchical system like feudalism, every person (from the lowest peasant all the way up to the crown prince) legally OWES their liege lord certain things (taxes, labor, service, loyalty, etc). A good liege remembers and takes very seriously the idea that this should be a balanced and reciprocal relationship -- in other words, he owes something BACK. Feudalism is modeled very strongly on the family system: If children owe their parents obedience and service, then parents owe their children care and protection. This still applies when the "child" is a farmer and the "parent" is a local baron. Or when the "child" is a duke and the "parent" is the king.
Basically, we get so caught up in the aesthetics of nobility that we forget that it literally is a managerial position that comes with responsibilities that were... very similar back in the day to the same ones we have now. Humans have not changed all that much. At the end of the day, a really good boss in the 1400s versus in one from the 2020s displays most of the same qualities of personality, even if the details of execution are different.
The next question is, of course, "well, but this theoretical liege lord is HIGHLY idealized -- how often did that actually HAPPEN? Wasn't it more likely that everyone was exploited all the time?" and to that I say: Well, maybe. But again, I don't think humans have changed all that much. Just like the bosses of today, there's a SPECTRUM: A really really good boss is rare and precious and one that you tell stories about for years after you've left that job, but a truly, genuinely, homicidally nightmarish boss is also pretty rare. Most bosses are sort of meh -- they have their good moments, they have their shitty moments, but they're tolerable and you can get along with them well enough to do your job, and then you roll your eyes at them behind their back. Generally, humans don't take outright exploitation lying down. Being a bad boss in the historical period is how you get peasant uprisings and revolts, and you know that to be true because your parents raised you with that knowledge, so unless you are very stupid or inbred or an egomaniac, there is literal personal incentive to at minimum be a Tolerable liege lord. And that means hitting at least SOME of the above bullet points.
TL;DR: In the words of Honore de Balzac, "Everything I have just told you can be summarized by an old word: noblesse oblige!"
(for more discussions of the ethics of fealty and what it means to be a good boss when you are an exquisitely beautiful twink of a prince with a hot beefy bodyguard.... [fingerguns] read A Taste of Gold and Iron)
A lot of people find Emma Woodhouse "condescending" towards the poor in Emma, and I'm like, "No, that's literally her being a good member of the gentry. That's how she's supposed to act!"
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Summary: An embarrassing bump to the head isn't the perfect first meeting but it seems unfortunately apt for someone like Dunk.
Egg would just like to know why the adults in his life are behaving so oddly.
Content: modern AU, non-linear narrative, fluff, slight secret relationship
Word count: 5.8k
Author's note: written for the Dunk/Baelor Exchange Event 2026 as a gift for 6seas. Thanks to everyone involved in the exchange and setting this up, especially my mod itellyouthisisnottheend for their check-ins and having to deal with my last-minute stressed messages. Credit also goes to keltbh for their art for inspiring the opening scene ❤️ It's also my first fic for this couple and this fandom. As always comments are appreciated, just be kind and respectful 💕
Egg paused in the sand where he was digging for the crab he saw earlier, the sound of his uncle and coach laughing floating across the beach.
He turned and squinted over the sand, lifting a hand to shade his eyes from the harsh glare of the sun. The beach was crowded, other groups dotted here and there enjoying the sun as they were. Other children like him having fun or playing - not that he was playing like a little kid, he was conducting an experiment - and grownups soaking up the sun, sometimes hugging or kissing despite the heat. He wrinkled his nose at the thought. It was gross anyway when the adults acted all silly like that, nevermind when everyone was all hot and sweaty.
Uncle Baelor and Dunk were a little ways away, his sports coach sitting crossed legged while his uncle was kneeling in the sand behind him. Baelor held a bottle that Egg recognised as the sun cream that his father had thrown at Baelor earlier that day, threatening his uncle with some very bad words that he wasn't allowed to repeat if his youngest son got burned at the beach. There were also some comments about Baelor's taste and something about how old Dunk was, but Egg hadn't really been paying attention at that point. He definitely hadn't been trying to remember Maekar's swears to add to a list or anything.
The bigger man was sitting with his neck craned backwards towards Baelor behind him, his uncle staring at Dunk with an odd look on his face. He didn't look upset or anything, it was definitely a happy expression. Elated. (That was a new word they'd learned with Miss Tanselle recently. Egg was very good with his words, thank you very much.)
It sort of reminded Egg of his cousin Valarr and Kiera, but weirder. Because his uncle was an old man. (Another thing he'd been told was rude to say. But he'd also been told that lying was rude, so he wasn't really sure what his family wanted him to do.) And Dunk looked just as weird, his face all red like when Daeron fell asleep in the sun last week after stealing their uncle's wine. Daeron looked a bit like the crab he was looking for now.
He saw a glimpse of red out the corner of his eye and jumped, head snapping away from the strange adults and whatever they were doing. With a war cry he dived onto the sand, grabbing hold of the small animal and pulling it out from where it was half buried. Egg shifted to hold it so he wouldn't get hurt from the pincers - he didn't want another cut; his father was likely to start shouting about the red on his shoulders as it was - and held it up in the summer sunshine, grinning as the light reflected off the shell.
Egg turned around loudly and started running. "Uncle! Dunk! Look, I got it!"
The two men jumped, shifting apart from one another with bright red faces. Definitely weird. They looked at Egg and immediately grinned at seeing what he was holding, Baelor's smile smaller but no less warm than Dunk's. His coach grabbed a small bucket sat next to him and held it out as Egg got closer, laughing as he held the crab high with his other hand on his hip.
"I told you I'd find a crab!"
"Yes, you did. Well done, Aegon," Baelor said with a nod, as if he hadn't doubted it for a second. "Do you know what you want to do with it? Are you going to take it home to eat?"
"Father said that crabs taste like shit boiled in salt."
Dunk barked out an exasperated "Language!" as his uncle huffed a laugh, his lips fighting a grin at his words. Egg didn't understand what the issue was, it wasn't as if those were his words.
Egg frowned. "But that's what Father said!" He pouted and looked at the flailing creature and dropped it into the plastic bucket, turning back to the adults. "I didn't say it first."
"That doesn't mean you can swear like that all the time," Dunk lectured him, a familiar look on his face that he usually got while trying to explain the rules of their various sports games at school. Especially when the rules didn't make sense and Egg was asking questions to see why the stupid rules were even there to begin with. Aemon told him asking was how you learn; if he was doing anything wrong, it was his brother's fault.
"To be fair to my nephew, I've heard Maekar say those very words on more than one occasion," Baelor said dryly. "If that's all Aegon's picked up from my brother then I think we can live with it, Dunk."
(Egg wisely chose not to repeat what his father had recently said about their cousin Daemon. He had a feeling Uncle Baelor wouldn't like that.)
The boy narrowed his eyes as the grownups looked at each other again. It was like they were talking with their eyes. It was weird. How did they do that?
"Why do you keep looking at each other like that?" Egg asked loudly, interrupting their odd behaviour.
They both jumped again, Dunk turning the colour of a tomato so quickly that Egg was a little worried. He didn't think that was normal for his coach. Neither was his uncle's cheeks turning even darker, his mismatched eyes flicking between Dunk and Egg very quickly. That also wasn't normal; Baelor Targaryen was usually very put together and smart-looking. And quieter than Egg's angry father who seemed to be very stressed all the time.
Baelor cleared his throat. "Well, we were just talking about going to get some ice cream once you got back."
"I told him about that little shop we went to last time we came here with your sisters," Dunk added while looking away from them.
Egg brightened remembering the counter covered with a whole rainbow of flavours and grabbed onto one of Dunk's thick arms in a tight hug, turning his head to face his uncle with a massive grin. They had to go.
Before he could get a single word out, Baelor's expression softened and he leaned in to press a small kiss to the top of Egg's head. In the middle of the warmth he felt Dunk tense and breathed in quickly. He ignored his coach's weird behaviour and beamed back at his favourite uncle. He loved how Baelor was always so kind and gentle with their family, never failing to show them he loved them.
"You'll have to show me all the flavours then and help me pick something out." His uncle grinned at him. "It's been months since I've had ice cream."
Egg was horrified at the injustice. "Months?! How could you go months? What have you been eating instead?!"
Baelor just laughed loudly and stood up, brushing sand off his swimming shorts as he did. He held out both hands in front of him, Egg taking one and leaning against the man's warm side. Baelor's other hand wrapped around Dunk's bigger one and pulled him up, looking up into blue eyes once the coach was standing in front of them.
"You'll have to help me too. I need to know which one you prefer in your mouth."
Egg wasn't entirely sure what about his uncle's words made Dunk choke on air with a bright red face - how else would you eat ice cream than with your mouth? - but the taller man did look like he was about to pass out, waving his free arm back and forth as he stammered out something into Baelor's laughing face.
He rolled his eyes and tugged their hands firmly. "Come on, I want ice cream! Uncle hasn't been there before."
Baelor quietened down and squeezed Egg's hand, smiling down at him. "Aegon is quite right. I do need to try this wonderful ice cream." He looked up at Dunk. "Don't you agree?"
Dunk snorted. "You're a menace, Targaryen."
Despite their odd conversation, they began to move away towards the promised dessert, Egg rambling and telling the two men about all the concoctions the shop offered, grinning as they both remained focused on him and not on whatever they'd been talking about before.
Why were adults so weird?
The first time Dunk met Baelor he honestly thought his heart was going to give out on him.
One brown eye and one purple locked onto him, warm brown skin glowing in the sun, dark waves curling at the edges and blowing in the wind … He was beautiful. Dunk couldn't look away from the man walking over to him with a small smile on his gorgeous face. Dunk didn't register anything around them, couldn't do anything except hope that his racing heartbeat wasn't audible to the beautiful man. So much so that he didn't notice the ball until it smacked straight into him, whipping his head back and knocking him straight to the ground with a large thud.
Dunk had never been a religious man but he prayed to every god he could think of that the ground would swallow him whole.
"Are you okay? Do you need me to call for medical assistance?"
He blinked rapidly and peered up, coming face-to-face with the model-like figure leaning over him with a worried look on his face. Dunk's mind conjured images of other reasons the man could be leaning over him and blushed awfully, cursing his pale skin as he felt the heat spread. Great, now he looked even worse. Just what he needed.
Dunk slowly sat up and brushed a hand across his head while staring at the ground. "No, I'm good. Got a thick head, I'll be fine." Physically at least.
Warm fingers brushing across his head made him jump, head snapping up and meeting the concerned gaze. The man had his eyes narrowed, crows feet standing out at the corners of his eyes and making them stand out even more. He also noticed some strands of silver at the temples and wanted to swear at how attractive the man was. Dunk prayed again, this time in hope that his instant attraction wasn't so obvious. A man could dream.
"Well, it doesn't feel like anything other than a bruise." The man turned to stare behind Dunk and raised a thick brow. "Don't you have anything to say for your actions?"
He turned around to see a sheepish Egg, the small boy looking the usual mix between guilty and defiant. Dunk should have known; Aegon Targaryen was a bit of a brat but usually had his heart in the right place. But he was pretty stubborn when it came to his actions, especially if he'd done something to someone else by accident.
Not that Dunk was surprised. Knowing he was the youngest son of Maekar Targaryen was enough to explain his behaviour most times. Maekar was a stubborn, loud man who often expressed himself through insults and a general 'fuck you' attitude that Dunk found to be exhausting as often as it was funny. Not that he'd admit to finding entertainment in the blonde man's anger sometimes. He didn't want that foul mouth turned on him any more than it sometimes was. At least they'd settled into a fairly decent relationship after dealing with his rowdy offspring for so many years. (Except when Lyonel turned up and decided to wind up the single father in some bizarre form of foreplay or whatever was going through his mind. Dunk didn't want to know.)
"Sorry, Dunk! It was an accident and -"
"Aegon," came the warning tone.
The boy rolled his purple eyes. "Coach Dunk. I'm sorry, but you were stood there like an idiot doing nothing."
"Aegon!"
Egg pouted, pursing his lips in a hilarious imitation of his intimidating father. "I'm sorry that I hit you with the ball when you were looking at my uncle."
Uncle. This man was Egg's uncle. Dunk knew that Maekar was the youngest of four brothers. He'd met Aerys once, the thin man looking like he'd regretted all of his life decisions at once after having to collect Maekar's youngest three from one of their after-school clubs. They hadn't spoken more than a few words to each other but he'd been pleasant enough. And he'd seen Rhaegel's dark head once from across the parking lot, but he'd never met the eldest brother, Baelor. This must be him.
"I apologise for my nephew's action, Mr …"
Dunk cleared his throat. "Pennytree. I'm Dunk Pennytree," he said while holding his hand out.
Those eyes lit up with recognition as he took Dunk's hand and shook it firmly. "I see. Aegon speaks of you frequently."
Wonderful. "All lies, I can assure you," he said while shooting his young student a wary glance. Gods only knew what the boy had said about him to his family.
Egg grinned at him unrepentantly as his uncle laughed heartily. "I hope not. He's spoken of how wonderful a teacher you are often. I'm jealous my school career wasn't as fun as his."
The man blinked, a crooked smile on his face. "My apologies, I forgot to introduce myself. I am Baelor Targaryen, Aegon's uncle. His father is my youngest brother."
He nodded. "I - I figured, I've seen your other brothers."
"I see. Well, you have my thanks for caring for my nieces and nephews as well as I've heard. They've done extremely well under your care."
Can I be under your care? Dunk shook off the wildly inappropriate thought, cheeks flushing once more as his blush returned at full force. That wasn't going to happen any time soon, if at all.
"It's nothing, they're good kids."
Baelor smirked at him. "All of them?" he asked pointedly.
Dunk grinned despite himself. "They're kids. They do as kids do."
Baelor nodded, conceding the point. Their conversation was interrupted as Egg joined in with his usual bullheadedness.
"Uncle, where is Father? I thought he was picking me up?"
The man dropped a hand on Egg's short hair - Dunk did not want to know what had recently happened to his student's hair after the quick mention of his drunk brother - and ruffled the short strands gently. The warmth on his face and care with which he handled his nephew spoke of a gentle man which was doing nothing good for Dunk's poor heart and its continued existence. Falling for a man because he was a decent uncle was a bit pathetic, Dunk thought.
"He was, but he needs to help your grandparents with something last minute. He should be back later tonight before bed time."
"Oh, okay." Egg turned to Dunk once more, another guilty smile on his cheeky face. "Sorry again about the ball."
Dunk huffed. "No harm, no foul. Just be careful in the future, lad."
"I will!"
Despite himself, Dunk felt himself grin. Egg wasn't a bad kid, just a bit enthusiastic. Fingers crossed he'd calm down as he got older. Then again, considering what he'd heard about Egg's oldest two brothers, he wasn't holding out much hope for Maekar's continued avoidance of high blood pressure.
"Well, I won't keep you two." He carefully turned to the older man, bracing himself for the lust once more. He wasn't disappointed, but neither was he spared the impact. "It was nice to meet you, Mr Targaryen."
"Please, call me Baelor."
"Then please call me Dunk."
"Dunk."
Gods, but even his voice was bad for Dunk's heart. He nodded and started to turn away before a warm hand caught his upper arm in a gentle grip. Dunk looked back to see two different eyes locked onto where Baelor was holding him. His heart thudded. It looked like interest, but Dunk wouldn't hold his breath when it came to someone like Baelor Targaryen thinking like that about him.
Baelor met his eyes once more and dropped his hand. Dunk mourned the loss of warmth. "Aegon and I were planning to have dinner at the new restaurant down the road. Would you care to join us?"
"What? I couldn't -"
"It wouldn't be any trouble. Consider it an apology for the football to the head."
"That's not -"
"Yes, come with us Dunk!" Egg burst out and attached himself to Dunk's hip like a leech, grinning up at him excitedly.
Dunk looked between uncle and nephew, both sporting encouraging looks as they stared at him, even if the elder of the two was staring at Dunk in a way that had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He really needed to get a grip. He should say no. They didn't owe him anything. And he really didn't need to spend several more hours in the company of a man who looked like that, making him think things around a - relatively - innocent Egg. He was going to say no.
"Okay, if you're sure," he said weakly.
He was a lying liar with no backbone when it came to hot people with bedroom eyes.
If anyone were to ask later, Dunk wouldn't be able to say how he'd gotten from the school field to a small Pentoshi restaurant tucked away at a table with one of his troublesome students and his criminally-handsome uncle. Witchcraft, maybe? Either way, he was currently picking bits and pieces off of various plates as Baelor quietly talked him through each dish, their conversation interspersed with Egg's enthusiastic tale of his newest adventure with his classmates. (For the sake of his sanity, Dunk was choosing to believe the innocent version of events.)
"Well, what do you think?"
Dunk looked up to see Baelor staring at him, a glass of wine in his broad hands as he watched Dunk, his head tilted to the side. Dunk inwardly bemoaned another hit to his mind. How was he supposed to deal with this?
He shoved a forkful of fish in his mouth and chewed thoroughly, surprised that he actually enjoyed it as much as he did. It wasn't something he'd usually go for but whatever it was seasoned with was miles ahead of what he used to eat as a child.
"It's good," he replied after swallowing, refusing to fall back on the bad manners he'd had before Arlan adopted him. "I don't usually eat fish."
"Neither does Father," Egg added in a matter-of-fact voice. "He says it tastes like -"
"Aegon," Baelor interrupted with a smile. His attention flicked back to Dunk. "My brother isn't particularly polite when it comes to things he dislikes."
"Yeah, I know," Dunk laughed. "You should have heard what he said after he had some biscuits at parent's day from one of the mums."
"Believe me, I heard enough after the fact."
Dunk laughed, joined in by a small giggle from Egg. The boy was playing nicely and not repeating his father's words, but he clearly knew what had been said by the grumpy man.
They carried on chatting as they finished the meal, Dunk explaining about his roommates Raymun and Rowan and how they all moved in together as broke students, Baelor laughing as he described his childhood growing up in a dysfunctional affluent family. Egg of course kept contributing with random tales which he probably shouldn't, Dunk snorting at the boy's words and Baelor shaking his head while warning his nephew not to repeat those things around his father. It was nice. Fun, the most Dunk had had outside the school in a while.
After a while Egg ran off to the restroom and Dunk was left alone with an incredibly hot man who had decided Egg's absence was a good enough excuse to trail his eyes up and down Dunk's body without shame. He swallowed. It wasn't necessarily a look of blatant lust, just … interest. Keen eyes wanting to know everything. He wasn't sure why.
"May I ask you something, Dunk?"
"Er, yeah - I mean, go ahead."
Baelor was silent for a few moments before he started. "Am I making you uncomfortable? With how I look at you?"
He flushed. "I wouldn't say 'uncomfortable'… Maybe confused?"
"In what way?" the other man asked quietly.
"I'm just not sure why you seem …" Dunk trailed off, not sure how to say what he was feeling without it sounding a bit insulting.
"Intrigued?"
"Sure, let's go with that."
The older man hummed and took a sip of wine. "Is there any reason I shouldn't be? You're someone who is working a job they clearly enjoy, something rewarding that helps others. You're very earnest and true in that, Dunk."
Dunk had a feeling his red face was clashing with the red in his hair now.
"Not to mention I have very good eyes," Baelor added with a smirk, his eyes once more doing a quick once over of Dunk's body before winking at him.
Forget clashing, his face and hair were probably melding now.
Baelor kept the wicked expression for a second before sobering a bit. "I also love my family, Dunk."
Said man frowned. "I can see that but I'm not sure I follow."
The older man sent him a fond look. "One of the reasons that relationships have been so scarce for me after I lost my wife is that I refuse to entertain someone who doesn't treat my family well. I fully acknowledge that there are some … less-than-savoury members, but despite our public personas, we are still a family as any other. We still have familial relationships and disputes as any we see around us.
"I refuse to spend time on people who won't engage with us as people," he explained softly. "While I might wish to be in a relationship once more, I cannot in good conscience get involved with someone who will not also be involved.
"However, you are someone who has treated every single member of my family you've met with kindness. And fairness. Even Maekar complains about you in a way which I know means he thinks well of you," he said with a teasing grin.
Dunk laughed, the sound more surprised than anything as he processed those words. The things said, the things unsaid, how Baelor looked at him … He might not be the most intelligent man around but Dunk was far from stupid.
"Are you saying that you want a relationship with me?"
"Well, perhaps a date to begin with, with the assumption that more moving forward is on the table. Only if that is what you wish. I have no desire to force you into something you have no wish to pursue."
"Well, that's -"
"Uncle, did you know they have Grandmother's favourite flowers outside the window?"
Egg's timing was impeccable as always. Dunk just smiled at his student, turning his focus on the lad's rapid explanation on the flowers and everything he'd learned about them from his grandmother. A quick glance showed Baelor was doing the same, all of his attention on his nephew's excited lecture. That fact warmed Dunk through. It was one thing to pick Egg up from practice and take him to eat, it was another to give him the attention and care he needed. Dunk didn't think he'd ever want to be with anyone that disregarded their family like that.
As Egg wound down and started digging in his pocket for his notebook, Dunk saw Baelor looking at him with a question in his mismatched eyes. Not a probing one. He didn't even look like he was trying to get Dunk to answer him, just looking and wondering at what he'd eventually say.
Dunk would be an idiot to let this chance pass him by.
The coach swallowed and looked Baelor in the eye, and very deliberately nodded, trying to communicate without speaking out loud. He didn't want Egg getting involved in this conversation.
The older man blinked once, twice, then lit up with a delighted smile. There was just a touch of heat in his gaze, but the rest held a soft look as he stared back at Dunk. A look of happiness at getting a positive response, as if there was ever the chance that Dunk wouldn't have agreed.
A while later and the two of them were standing outside of Dunk's flat, Egg thankfully curled up asleep in the back of the car. Dunk rocked back and forth on his heels, a jittery feeling in his chest as he looked down at the older man in front of him. Baelor was smiling at him, eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that did nothing good for Dunk's composure.
He cleared his throat. "Thanks for inviting me tonight. And for - for asking me out." Dunk felt his face turn red. "I mean, I was glad you did, and I'm looking forward to it, just -" He sighed and rubbed his face with one hand. "Please forget everything I just said and put me out of my misery."
Baelor laughed lightly. "I am afraid I can't agree to that. You were rather endearing just now."
"I sounded like an idiot."
"You sounded genuine."
A hand took hold of his and pulled it off his face so they could make eye contact again. Dunk met Baelor's eyes and saw the warmth in them.
"It makes me happy to see you as affected as I am."
Dunk snorted. "Since when are you affected?"
"Since I saw you on that field just before that ball came flying."
"Please don't remind me," Dunk groaned in embarrassment.
"Perhaps I should thank Aegon for his assistance," Baelor joked. After a second his expression turned thoughtful. "If it's acceptable to you, I'd like to keep the development of our relationship between the two of us for now. It has nothing to do with seeing us as a secret to be hidden, of course," he explained quickly, clearly trying to answer Dunk's questions before he could voice them. "It is simply that my family, for all that I love them, can be incredibly interfering when they wish to be. Often in misguided attempts to help, however I have seen firsthand the results of their 'help' and wish to have you to myself before I have to share you with them."
Dunk ignored his reaction to that last part and nodded himself. His own friends could be a handful when they tried to help him get a date. Their hearts were in the right place but they often went overboard and made everything worse by the end. It was only that Dunk knew they felt guilty every time something went wrong, and that they genuinely loved him that made him far more understanding of their scheming than he might have been otherwise.
"Yeah, that's - I get it. I think I'd like to get used to us before moving things along."
There were many things Dunk could be accused of, but being a coward was not one of them, not before and definitely not now. He steeled himself, and lowered his head into a chaste kiss. Baelor didn't waste a moment, thankfully keeping things calm for now but pushing into Dunk's lips firmly, both hands holding Dunk's jaw between them.
It wasn't long before he pulled back and opened his eyes to see a carefree grin directed at him, the expression far more open than the man usually appeared.
"Well, that was …"
"Yes, it was."
A muffled thud echoed behind the closed door and the men stepped apart quickly, just in time for the door to swing open and Raymun's tired face to appear. Dunk was beyond thankful he hadn't waited to move.
"Dunk? I thought I heard -"
His best friend cut off and stared at Baelor, his eyes sweeping over the older man before swinging back to Dunk and staring. He didn't need to speak to tell Dunk what he was thinking. Dunk could practically hear the 'What the fuck?' in his mind.
"Raymun, this is Baelor Targaryen. He's Egg's uncle. You know, that student of mine?"
His friend raised his eyebrows. "The kid who tried to stowaway in our car?"
Dunk shot a panicked look at Baelor. "I didn't try to kidnap him or anything! I promise I told your brother!"
Baelor just laughed and shook his head. "Don't worry, I heard all about it from Maekar when it happened. I'm fully aware that Aegon was responsible for that mess." He turned to Raymun and held out his hand, smiling widely when his friend shook it. "Baelor Targaryen, it's a pleasure to meet you."
"… Raymun Fossoway. Nice to meet you."
"Apologies if we disturbed you. We were just discussing Aegon's upcoming activities for the break and what he was going to be doing."
Raymun wasn't a naive person by any means, but the smooth explanation and disarming smile from Baelor had the suspicious look on Raymun's face all but dying where he stood. Nearly. (Dunk was praying his friend wouldn't start revealing his true thoughts about the Targaryen family and their previous marriage practices to Baelor's face. He might have to give up on praying for the ground to swallow him and just run into traffic instead and pray for accident-induced amnesia like on TV.)
Baelor turned to Dunk and nodded once with a smile. "Well, I'll be seeing you around Dunk. It was a pleasure talking to you this evening."
He held out his hand again, this time to shake Dunk's hand, and as they made contact Dunk felt a small card slip into his palm. Sly bastard. He made sure to keep hold of it as they broke apart and the older man walked away towards the car with a small wave to the pair of them.
Once more the stars seemed to align for Dunk somehow, and Rowan's voice carried out the door as she called for her boyfriend before he could interrogate Dunk. The tall man followed his friend back into the flat and slipped away into his bedroom, locking the door and digging his phone out of his pocket. His heart thudded as he saw a text from an unknown number already waiting for him.
Dunk grinned as he peered down at the screen. His day had certainly turned around after taking a football to the face.
Baelor propped his elbow on the table and rested his head on his hand, watching his companions at the table with a small smile.
Aegon was currently gorging himself on approximately ten large scoops of ice cream, various flavours mixing into what would no doubt be an interesting concoction at least, a stomachache-inducing nightmare at worst. That wasn't even getting into the imminent sugar rush that was all but guaranteed after so much of the sweet treat.
Oh well, his brother could deal with it. He deserved it after their childhood.
Dunk was looking at their young charge with exasperation, though he couldn't quite contain the loving smile as he kept trying to wipe the excess ice cream off Aegon's face as the boy jumped around his seat explaining the newest mischief he'd gotten up to with Aemon. (Maekar might be under the impression his third son was the calm and dutiful one, but Baelor knew full well he was simply a quiet enabler for his younger brother. Much like Aerys had been for Rhaegel. Baelor also saw no reason to inform Maekar of this.)
It was wonderful seeing how well Dunk handled the children of their family, from playing a multitude of games with the younger excitable ones to happily spending time with Baelor's sons and Daeron to encourage their interests. He even got on well with Baelor's brother's despite their prickly personalities, somehow without them feeling like Dunk was merely humouring them.
Of course, they were all under the impression that he was simply a sports coach and not sharing Baelor's bed, but that was irrelevant.
It wasn't as if they were truly wanting to hide anymore - it would be difficult to maintain that after nearly eight months of covert dating - but they still hadn't revealed the truth to their friends and family. They would soon, though. Likely when they got back home. Baelor briefly mourned the loss of privacy before Dunk and Egg's laughter broke through his maudlin thoughts.
His nephew grinning wildly made him remember their conversation earlier, him and Dunk both agreeing that they wanted Aegon to be the first they told. Both because he had - inadvertently - led to their relationship, but also because the boy adored Dunk and had a closer relationship with him out of everyone. Bar him, of course.
Dunk then gave him a questioning look, almost as if he could sense Baelor's thoughts. It was a gratifying feeling, he thought, knowing that his chosen partner could understand him in such an intimate manner. He and Jena had been the same before her passing, and it amazed him every day that he'd once more managed to find someone else that he could share his life with in such a way.
Baelor gestured at Aegon with his head and raised a brow. Shall we? Dunk just blinked at him before rolling his eyes. "As you wish, Baelor."
"Thank you, Dunk."
"What are you talking about?"
His nephew's suspicious look was so much like Maekar it was uncanny. Baelor grinned at Aegon.
"What? Am I not allowed to talk to my boyfriend?"
Aegon stared at them for several moments, purple eyes flicking between the two of them rapidly before widening, a look of realisation on his face.
"So that's why you were looking all weird at each other!"
"We're not weird, lad," Dunk huffed, a relieved smile on his face. “So, you’re okay with us being together?”
The boy scrunched up his face, clearly thinking through the question instead of just responding immediately. Baelor was impressed at how thoughtful he was at his young age. Maekar likely would have thrown something and sulked.
“I suppose it’s okay. As long as I don’t have to watch you kiss each other all the time.”
“So it’s okay if we just kiss each other sometimes?” Baelor asked with a teasing grin.
Aegon’s face looked like he’d smelled something but he just sighed. “I suppose that’s acceptable.”
He couldn’t have stopped the laughter even if he’d tried.
"Are you getting married?"
Dunk seemed to choke on air at the follow-up question while Baelor just carried on laughing at the two of them, ruffling Aegon's hair and smiling as he leaned into the affectionate gesture.
"One thing at a time, Aegon."
He let his nephew start rambling about the logistics of two men marrying and what his father was going to say - a conversation Baelor was anticipating for the sheer hilarity that would no doubt ensue - and looked over at his partner, knocking their feet together under the table. He smiled as Dunk nudged him back with a wide grin.
One day at a time. And hopefully those days would be endless.
Thanks again for everyone in the exchange and for this opportunity 💖
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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The first draft philosophy that has finally gotten me writing for fun isn't "worst version of story" type framing, it's "tell the story to yourself."
Your story isn't ready for polished prose, you don't know what happens yet. This doesn't make it Bad Writing, it's a different type of writing. And this ties into why I think the plotter vs pantser debate misses the mark - both detailed outlines AND make-it-up-as-you-go first drafts are ways to make up the story.
This part is for you, so how you do it should be whatever is the most fun or satisfying way to tell yourself the story.
