Chapter Text
The place was muddy, and the rain made everything worse. Cold. It was so cold. Dunk could feel it in his bones.
He looked at his prince’s body, which was still warm. But his eyes lost that warmth.
He shook the man’s body. Nothing.
“Please, Ser. Wake up!” But nothing happened. He heard the chaos around him, but his attention was on his prince.
He held Baelor's head gently, and the blood flowing from his injured hand mixed with the prince's blood, sticking to his hair and fingers.
"Rise, Ser."
"Your Grace." He shook the man, once, then twice, but nothing happened.
"Get up."
"Rise!"
In most cases, blood magic failed because of the sacrifice. In order to bend the forces of the world to one's will, one must not shy away from the price of sacrifice. Sacrificing everything without receiving anything in return required a conviction that was unclouded by doubt or hesitation. Most blood mages used the lives of others for their spells, which was a weakness of their power. It made the ritual inferior, merely exchanging one life for another.
But Dunk knew nothing of this. He just started the whole thing by accident and determination. Baelor Targaryen has to live. A prince could not die for a knight errant. It contradicted the very foundations of his world; it contradicted the essence of his being. He held in his arms the body of the one to whom he had just pledged his sword and soul, and that was not right. He would make it right. There was no other acceptable outcome, and so it would be.
‘Get up!’
The prince was called back from the spreading darkness.
‘Get up!’
The blood covering the back of Baelor's head was his own and Dunk's, and as Dunk lived, so must Baelor live, for they were one and the same.
‘Get up!’
The previously motionless body took a breath. Then another.
And Baelor Targaryen opened his mismatched eyes, met the gaze of Dunk, and lived again.
Dunk couldn’t believe it. He didn’t know what just happened here, but he was happy for his prince.
“He is conscious! Call the maesters!”
And all of a sudden, the chaos hit his head, like a hammer hit the anvil. He started to shake, and his breathing became heavy. He felt immense nausea, and the pain in his chest, it felt like something was being torn from his chest.
“Ser Duncan?” he looked down at the man who was in his arms. Prince Bealor's breathing was quick and shallow. “What is happening? My head…” Then the prince's eyes rolled back, and he lost consciousness again.
Strong hands reached out, carefully lifting the prince's body and placing it on a stretcher. He watched as they carried away the unconscious body, staring as long as he could, until his vision blurred.
***
He woke up screaming. Everything was so painful. His side, his head, his hands, everything hurt. He sat up, but a hand on his shoulders forced him back.
“Lay back, Ser.” Said Raymun. “It wouldn’t be good for your body to get up.” His words were full of worry.
“The prince?” Dunk's voice was hoarse from all the sleep he got from the poppy milk. His head was spinning, and he couldn’t take in his surroundings. He closed his eyes, hoping that the nausea would pass. After some time, it became better.
“He is alive, you don’t have to worry about him. The measters are taking good care of him. But you need some sleep, and more medicine.” Said Raymun. “Wait here, I will call for a measter, to look at you.” He quickly rose to his feet, but Dunk stopped him in mid-rise.
“There is no need for that. I feel so much better now. Besides, there is no need to give me more of the precious medicine when I don’t feel any pain.” Said Dunk with a faint smile on his lips. He did tell the truth; his head stopped spinning, his nausea was long gone, and the pain since his awakening had gone away, too. This was a win for him; at least there was no need to buy more medicine for himself. Dunk felt bad because he was a big man; he always had to get from everything twice as much as a normal person.
As he was thinking of such things, Raymun started to speak again. “You don’t have to worry, you are my friend, and friends help each other. Besides, - Raymun leaned closer here – I’m not paying, those dragon bastards are paying for the bill.” He winked, then laughed as he looked at Dunk's stunned face. “Maybe they are sorry for the things Prince Aerion caused.” Now Raymun had a full smile on his face. Dunk couldn’t help it, a small smile was forming on his lips too.