Fuck it. I'm gonna make my Dragon!Dunk fic StormHedge, cause its gonna follow canon for the most part which means 1) Lyonel thinks Dunk is the absolute best thing at the tourney and repeatedly lets him into the party tent when he thinks Dunks just a Hedge Knight (which to Dunk, he is) and hot AF , and 2) it's gonna be real funny when the Targaryens fumble the bag on the first dragon to show up in Westeros so bad he doesn't want anything to do with them (except Egg, but thats his adopted hatchling now and doesn't count and Baelor cause of pure of heart shit and magic to save his life reasons), plus lore reasons regarding Dunk avoiding the Targs up to this point.
I may have to do a side fic about dragon lore cause Dunk's not a Valyrian dragon.
I'm a 4 legs 2 wings dragon girl. Love my wyverns but the 6 limbs just hit right for me.
I wanna try out actually finishing/mostly finishing a fic before posting it. I've been getting some "this is probably abandoned etcetc" on some of my other fics (that aren't even into the realm of time id considered abandoned. A year or a bit more isn't that long and writing that just makes me less inclined to get back into it... Sorry rant over)
But I'm having fun writing Dunk finding out hes a dragon, deciding to do nothing with this information for years then Ashford Meadows happens. His hoard is Ser Arlen and the 3 horses. He's pretty happy with this until Arlen up and dies.
Then he's like wtf do I do now ... Guess go do this Tourney in memory of Ser Arlen. Hello small child that smells sad and lonely, I can tell you are following me away from the tavern. Fine you can come with me, but I can't have you as my squire after the Tourney.
A night of travel later - Fuck. I have a Hatchling.... I can't peace out of the world of men now, I have responsibilities.
Theres more, but for now the scenes I'm having fun thinking about involve Dragon!Dunk hiding behind Lyonel from Maeker and Baelor which is not working at all cause he's the size of 2 horses, Lyonel realising he fucked a dragon and Aerion demanding Dunk submit with all the Valyrian magic words to be his dragon as is his 'right' except oops wrong type of Dragon you evil shit, you're lucky Dunk is still Dunk even when he's a couple tons and scalely.
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Knighted Dragon - Dunk is a dragon and chooses to do nothing with this information until the chaos that is Ashford. StormHedge.
Errant Hatchling - Valerian type Dragon!Dunk. Got way angstier than I thought. Found family but the family is the Targs so it kinda goes to shit. Mainly to deal with my gripes about Dragon treatment in the ASoIaF world. No romance so far (won't be any Targs if it does show up).
Maiden Knight - Basically crossover with Death of a Unicorn with bonus lore (the teeth and horns of the unicorns in that movie gave me ideas.) Dunk does a good deed, gets his heart eaten for it and this is a positive.
My God, I keep forgetting that advertising for your fic might be a good idea, so here is a belated; I got really into A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, and that apparently manifested by writing another fic where one of my fav guys gets turned into a creature.
Dunk is a dragon, because I wanna explore his changing relationship to the crown, his hero worship in opposition to his small folk upbringing that have felt the repercussions of when nobility start wars.
This fic is also about Egg and Dunk. A precocious child who’s first true person they could call theirs, might be taken from them by circumstance and the machinations of their own family. And then a good man trying to do right by his oath, and ideal but coming to learn that the world is not that simple, and it will eat him alive if he does not decide what he deems important.
It also contains fluff. Like boat loads of it, because how can there not be when it’s about a boy, and his dragon.
A Thing Called Devotion
Chapter count: 8/?
Rating: Teen and Up
RESUME:
"A great growl reverberates from the hollow. The men Baelor brought with him take a step back. Murmuring breaks out that he silences with a fist in the air. Something beyond pride roots him in place. The animal part of his brain understands that the thing down there is a predator larger than himself. It takes a moment to remember how the sounds are supposed to feel in his mouth, it takes a couple of tries before he dares to sound out the vowels, but the “Ser Duncan?” does in the end ring out clearly in the clearing. The rustling sound from the creature in the hollow stops. Slowly, it reveals itself.
He should be surprised, but he’s not. This feels like it was always meant to be, and he had just unknowingly been waiting around for the time to come.
Head low and shoulders hunched. Great wings are held tightly to its body as it slowly crawls out. It’s drenched so extensively in mud that the color of its hide is unextinguishable, but its eyes are a clear blue. A dragon is standing before him.
AKA:
Dunk works some blood magic by accident that saves Baelor's life, and intricately ties himself to the Targaryen family. He’s turning into what he assumes the family would want the most. A dragon."
The best thing about deciding to wait til I have most/all of the fic written is I can write things wildly out if order.
Have some Lyonel being the best Mate Dunk could as for and standing his ground. I just love my StormHedge relationship I'm building so much (they haven't even meet yet in the actual text of the fic. I got distracted with writing traditional Targ Dragon!Dunk as a baby being a cryptid of Kings Landing, completely unrelated to this fic. That one's gonna be more found family) Any way here's the titbit, rough as hell but still fun.
*******
"I'm surprised, Lord Baratheon, that you were so accepting of Ser Duncan's choice in rider. One would think you would view it as a threat to your relationship."
Lyonel narrowed his eyes at The Hand over his cup of watered wine.
The statement wasn't unexpected but still irksome. His relationship with the Hedge Knight had been solidified before any of the valarion bastards had poked thier nose into it. (Barring Egg, but at this point he viewed the boy, Dunks before anything else.)
He was glad the Hedge Knight had gone with his squire to visit their horses.
The current company for small meal in the King's Solar was said King, his brother and thier uncle plus Lyonel himself.
The silence lingered in the air, as Baelor closed his eyes, almost as if regretting the meal, Maeker watching on with interest.
The Bloodraven was leaning forward, watching to see how the Lord would react, to see how this development would have to handled.
Baratheon temper was legendary after all.
"Dunk chose His Grace at Ashford. I have had time to come to terms with it. I am no Dragon Rider, I prefer my feet and steeds firmly upon the ground. "
Baelors eyes widened in shock.
"That long ago? Why did he say nothing?"
"That is not my place to tell. What is, is that having chosen you, he will have no other as long as you live."
{Blah blah - Bloodraven keeps poking Lyonel}
"After we are all gone by The Strangers hand and our very bones dust, Dunk will still live. He may take more riders or you, Your Grace, may be his only one. But dragons, or at the very least His type of dragon mate for life. I will be gone, my descendents ruling Storms End and still Dunk will be mine. He didn't tell me til he had already decided that the pain of loosing me was worth everything we have had or will ever have. So no, Ser Hand, I do not see my Mate choosing to have a Rider to share the skies with a threat to my relationship."
****
Man loves his Dragon husband so much. Dunk knows their time is limited but he still chose Lyonel cause he can't imagine having anyone else.
There's so much for me to write to get to this point but Im having fun.
I actually think the Baby Dragon!Dunk (he's 13 and the size of a direwolf currently and the Targs are only now finding out about him cause he just ate Baelor and Maeker' supper.) is gonna be finished first cause there's no romance that I have to figure out with literally no blueprints ( being Aces' one weakness, I'm flying absolutely blind here. But StormHedge is worth it damnit).
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Dunk is barely six when he looses his first treasure. His mother screams at him to run as she is grabbed by gold cloaks.
Her only crime is to be a lone lowborn woman in Flea Bottom.
He returns hours later, after waiting for her to find him. She's slumped against the wall of an alley near where they had been set upon.
She smells of pain and blood and another smell that he wouldn't understand til years later.
The scent of her attackers settle into a place in his memory that rages.
Her face is blackened and swollen, breath stuttering between her lips, as blood and spit leak out with each exhale.
Her eyes brighten slightly as he reaches for her, hands hovering, not knowing where he could touch without harm.
"Mama, are you ok?"
With tears welling in her eyes she tells him the bare truth.
"No my hatchling, I'm not."
#
His mother died that night. He had curled up with her til her breaths had stuttered to a stop and her body grown cold.
Her last strength spent ensuring he knew enough to keep as safe as one could be as a 6 yr old flea bottom orphan and that he was so so loved.
Death was no stranger to the slums, and once daylight edged the sky, he kissed her forehead and fleed before he had to watch as the other citizens picked over her corpse.
*
He survived as all orphans did in the slums, via scraps and thievery.
Though on occasion late at night, he would also go hunting in his other skin. The size of a medium dog, his long neck and clawed wings lead to many a dinner of pigeons and rats.
It didn't satisfy the hunger completely, but was enough to survive on.
He and Rafe had their own den, in a caved in hallway tucked against a wall. It was small and cold at night but they made it work.
She was the only person he had shown his other skin too since his mother. They curled up together against the chill night air. Though he still could not breathe fire, he was still warm enough to keep the both of them comfortable.
Then the gold cloaks stole from him again, in more ways than one.
At nine, Dunk lost his family again, all for two silver stags and a man's pride.
He runs, again, the scent of them added to the rage that brews deep with in him.
He is sick with loneliness. He is sick of people.
That night he takes his second skin with no intention to ever walk in the world of men again.
It has brought nothing but pain.
Two years pass like that. Hunting at night for rats, pigeons and stray animals. His hunger drives him out of his home territory, occasionally stealing from unattended food.
He grows, in fits and spurts when he has enough food. He is the size of the direwolves of the north now, as the legends are told.
He has learnt to be sneaky, avoiding torch light and the places that are active at night.
But he is out growing Kings Landing. He barely fits in his den anymore and the desire grows by the day to truely stretch his wings.
He thinks of flying across the Narrow sea, to see the place Rafe had talked about with such longing.
And maybe, if fate had been different he would have gone, flown from Westeros never to return.
Except that, one night, returning from a rather unfulfilling night of stolen fish, the wind blew, the scent of meat and warmth cause his nose.
He truly should have known better, at his core, he was a hungry boy of one and three.
He followed his nose, gliding as long as he could to make less noise.
The scent came from a wide balcony, doors open yet dark with no light. He landed as lightly as possible in the dark, his night sight serving him well. On a table, with two chairs, closer to the door was a large lightly steaming bowl.
He could see meat and vegetables in a thick reddish brown stew and saliva welled behind his teeth.
Maybe if he hadn't been so focused on the food, he would have noticed the smaller bowls set at each chair, waiting.
But he didn't. With the justification of such obviously abandoned food, Dunk lowered his muzzle in.
Warmth and flavour lit up his tongue. Even when he still favoured his human skin he hadn't tasted anything like this.
His world narrowed to the bowl, enjoying each mouthful with relish.
He didn't hear the door inside open, or the twin steps of people approaching for what had been planned as a quite get-together of brothers, away from the demands of family and court.So focused was Dunks quest for the delicious stew, that it took one of the men loudly gasping to tear his attention away.
Twin desires, to flee and to feed warred with in him, as he hunched over what he now considered his bowl.
*
Timeline wise - 6 mum death, 9 Rafe death, 11 enter the Targs. (This is more a self note lol)
