ReptileRae

“It is customary, as you might know, for a new knight to be gifted his spurs by his old master,” Baelor said. Dunk knew of this certainly, he also knew that proper knights said their vows in a sept, and sat vigil, and had a ceremony and a feast to go with it all. And they did not lie about being a knight in the first place, he thought; he still carried the guilt of that lie even now that Prince Baelor had absolved him of it. “I am sure, had the circumstances been different, Ser Arlan would have wished to do as much for you.” That was a flattering read of both Ser Arlan, and his opinion of Dunk; if Ser Arlan had ever gotten around to knighting Dunk, the event would have passed without much, if any, ceremony, but it was not Dunk's place to argue with a prince.

“In any case, since it fell to me to do your dubbing, I thought I should do the thing properly. I had these made after the trial, I thought,” Prince Baelor paused, for a split second a look of something like uncertainty passed across his features, but it was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by his usual princely magnanimity, and held out a pair of silver spurs “Well I saw your shield, the sigil you have chosen for yourself, I thought they might compliment it nicely.”

It was a lot for Dunk to take in; not only had Prince Baelor bought something for him, he had had it made specifically, had remembered Dunk's sigil, thought enough about it to choose something that would compliment it. Dunk did not think anyone had ever thought that much about him at all, let alone a prince.

“Your Grace, you honor me, truly,” Dunk said, he reached down and took the spurs from Prince Baelor's outstretched hand, the pair was tied together with a simple black ribbon. He wished he had dismounted for this, it felt inappropriate to be looking down at the prince, even more so while being gifted something. If anything, Dunk should have gotten off his horse and bent the knee as soon as he saw Prince Baelor, that would have been more proper, if slightly impractical. There was nothing to be done for it now. He examined the spurs, at first glance they were fairly simple, almost plain, but upon closer inspection Dunk could see what Prince Baelor had been referring to. The rowels were in the shape of tiny stars, the engraving on the neck giving the impression that the stars were falling.

“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.