Arthur followed Prince Duncan through the alleys of Flea Bottom until the stink of refuse and unwashed bodies gave way to cleaner cobblestones. The tavern they entered sat on the edge of the district where respectable merchants sometimes drank, its sign reading The Silver Flagon in faded gold letters.
Duncan pushed through the door first, shoulders back and hood thrown off as though he owned the place. He clapped the nearest patron on the back, a thick-armed smith still in his leather apron, and called out loud enough for the whole room to hear. "Innkeep! Bring your best red, a wheel of cheese, two roasted chickens, and whatever else smells good tonight. And keep it coming until I say stop." He dropped a handful of silver stags on the counter before the man behind the bar could even answer, then turned to the room with a wide grin. "The next round is on me, friends."
Laughter and cheers rose and men raised their tankards and shouted thanks while Duncan slid onto a bench near the hearth and pulled Arthur down beside him. A serving girl with curly brown hair and a low-cut bodice approached and Duncan caught her by the waist with one arm while he looked up at her. "Sweetling, you look like you could use a rest. Sit with us a moment and let me tell you just how pretty me and my friend finds you." She laughed and swatted his shoulder but did not pull away, and he slipped another coin into her palm while whispering something that made her cheeks flush.
Arthur sat stiff-backed on the bench, one hand resting near the hilt of his sword out of habit while the chest of dragon eggs sat heavy on the floor between his boots. He watched Duncan joke with the smith across the table, trade insults with a sailor two benches over, and flirt shamelessly with every girl who passed. The prince ordered more wine, more meat, more bread dripping with butter, and the room warmed around him like a fire spreading through dry kindling.
Arthur felt none of it.
His mind kept circling back to the the eggs that he had to guard with his life and to the mentioning of Cassie by the Prince. Why would he talk of her? What has his secret trip to the city got to do with her? He wanted to know and it was one of the only reasons he was humouring the Prince.
That and the fact he was a Prince...
A red-haired serving girl slid onto Arthur's lap without warning, looping her arms around his neck while she pressed her chest against him. "You look like you need cheering up, tall one. Let me help." Her fingers traced the line of his jaw while she leaned in close enough for him to smell the lavender she had dabbed on her throat. At the very least she smelled a lot better and looked a lot better than the wenches in flea bottom, but he was still uncomfortable with their attention.
Arthur caught her wrists gently and lifted her off his lap, setting her on her feet with careful hands. "Thank you, but I'm here to talk with my friend tonight. Maybe another time." He said it politely.
She pouted for half a second before Duncan tossed her a coin and told her to bring more wine instead.
Duncan laughed and clapped Arthur on the shoulder. "You're no fun at all, squire. These girls could make a stone smile. Loosen up before you crack your own jaw from clenching it so hard."
Arthur did not loosen.
He kept his back straight and his eyes on the door while Duncan slammed his first cup of wine, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and slammed the empty vessel down on the table with a loud bang. "Another!" he shouted. Then he dropped three heavy gold dragons onto the counter. "For every man and woman in this room. Food, drink, whatever they want. Tonight we celebrate being in the best city in the world."
Cheers erupted and tankards rose and clashed while the innkeep's eyes widened at the gold. Duncan drank the next cup straight down in one long pull, then slammed it down again and called for a third before the serving girl had even turned away.
Arthur leaned forward while the noise swelled around them. "Your Grace, we need to talk about about what happened in that brothel. The eggs—"
Duncan waved a hand through the air, cutting him off mid-sentence. "In a bit, Arthur. In a bit. First we drink."
Arthur sighed and sat back against the bench while he watched the prince throw an arm around the smith's shoulders and tell a bawdy story that had the whole table roaring. If it had not been for the same dark hair, the same violet eyes, and the same voice, Arthur would have sworn this was a different man. At the feasts in the Red Keep, Duncan had always been composed, the prince who rarely touched more than a single cup of wine. Here he drank like a hedge knight fresh off the road, laughed louder than anyone, flirted with every girl who passed, and bought the entire tavern without blinking.
It was unnerving to watch.
Duncan noticed Arthur's silence and leaned across the table. "You're still sitting there like you swallowed a spear up the wrong hole. Relax, that's a command from your prince. One night won't kill you."
Arthur shook his head while he kept one boot pressed against the chest on the floor. "I'm protecting the box, Your Grace. I can't afford to take leave of my senses."
Duncan raised an eyebrow. "What's in there that's got you so wound up?"
Arthur glanced around the room, making sure no one sat too close, then leaned in and whispered across the table. "Dragon eggs. They were stolen from the keep earlier tonight by the men in that brothel. We really should be rounding them up and finding out what they know."
Duncan's eyes widened for the space of a heartbeat. The smile slipped from his face and something more serious took its place. He leaned back in his chair, whistled through his teeth, and a lean man in a plain brown cloak detached himself from the bar and approached. Duncan whispered something into the man's ear and pressed a small wooden seal into his palm.
Duncan turned back to Arthur. "He'll take the eggs straight to the Red Keep and send word to the Goldcloaks to round up the criminals. Now drink something, Arthur. That's still a command."
The man he called for came and took the chest from Arthur's feet before he disappeared from the tavern and into the streets.
"Drink!" Duncan said pushing the cup towards him.
Arthur hesitated, then lifted his cup and drank. Duncan cheered loudly and clapped him on the back again while the wine burned down his throat.
"This will be a splendid night my friend," Duncan said as he clinked mugs with him.
What happened next Arthur would hardly remember, what he did remember was Duncan kept the cups coming, and soon the entire tavern joined in a drinking game where each man had to tell a truth so outrageous the table would call it out as a lie. Duncan spun tales about bedding a mermaid and wrestling a giant in the Mountains of the Moon, each one more ridiculous than the last, and the room howled with laughter every time someone lost. Arthur tried to keep up but the wine hit him harder than he expected; his tongue thickened and his thoughts blurred at the edges.
The games they played eventually shifted into a contest of strength. Men rolled up sleeves and cleared a table while Duncan hyped the crowd. "Come on, Arthur! Show them what a squire of Ser Duncan the Tall can do!" Before Arthur could protest, Duncan reached over and yanked the front of his tunic open, pulling it off his shoulders in one smooth motion. Arthur's bare chest gleamed in the firelight with hard muscle earned from months of constant training. The serving girls blushed bright red and two of them even ran their hands across his shoulders and down his arms while they whispered how strong he looked.
Arthur arm-wrestled the first man, a burly dockhand, and pinned his arm to the table in three heartbeats. The crowd roared. He beat the next, then the next, cup after cup pressed into his hand between matches. The wine kept flowing and his head grew heavier with every victory, but the cheers pushed him on.
One sour-faced sailor with a missing tooth finally lost and slammed his fist on the table. "Big dumb brute," he muttered in bastard Valyrian. "Thinks muscle makes him better than the rest of us."
Arthur answered in the same language. "Maybe I am a brute. But I am still more of a man than any of you."
The table erupted and the sailor lunged across the wood; Duncan laughed and shoved another man into the fray. Fists started flying and a full on brawl broke out. Arthur caught one punch on his forearm, drove his shoulder into a chest, and sent a man crashing over a bench. Duncan ducked a wild swing and tackled another patron into a table that collapsed in a shower of food and spilled wine. The brawl lasted only minutes before the innkeep and some of the other patrons waded in pulling everyone apart.
The serving girls sat Arthur and Duncan down again, pressing wet cloths to split lips and bruised knuckles while they poured fresh cups.
Arthur drank more.
Duncan drank more.
And the laughter returned like it had never left.
Someone produced a flute which Duncan it and began to play a lively tune while Arthur, half-drunk and grinning now, hoisted the prince onto his shoulders. He spun in a fast circle while Duncan kept the flute going, and the whole tavern clapped and stomped in time. Then Duncan jumped down, grabbed a girl's hand, and pulled her into a dance that had everyone joining in. Arthur spun with another, then another, the room blurring into color and sound.
Later, Duncan dragged Arthur to the hearth, rolled up his own sleeve, and thrust his hand straight into the flames. The fire licked around his fingers without burning him. He pulled it out laughing and held it up for the room to see. Arthur, caught in the moment, did the and the flames danced harmlessly around his palm.
Duncan cheered.
Arthur cheered.
They high-fived with a loud smack while the tavern exploded in cheers.
Hours slipped past in a warm haze. They drank, they sang, they danced again. Eventually the crowd thinned and they found themselves back at a table near the rear wall, two fresh cups between them.
Duncan leaned back, cheeks flushed, and let out a long breath. "Gods, I needed that. Truly needed that." He looked across the table at Arthur, eyes still bright but softer now. "Thank you for coming with me tonight."
Arthur chuckled while he set his own empty cup down on the wood and leaned forward just enough to rest his forearms on the table. "With all the training under Ser Duncan, my duties as a squire, and now becoming a father soon... I've been wound tighter than a crossbow string these past months. It's been nice to have a break, even if it came with a brawl."
Duncan nodded slowly while he turned his tankard between his hands, watching the last drops of ale swirl at the bottom. "My entire life has been one big duty. Even now my father wants me to take over as Hand of the King... considering what I've done to him by abdicating the throne. I feel as if I owe it to him. Even if I do not truly want it."
"I'm sure your father would understand," Arthur said quietly.
"He would," Duncan admitted while he met Arthur's gaze across the table. "That's the worst part. Despite what the realm may think about my father, he has always loved his children first. Despite all the political problems we caused for him, he's always been there when we needed him."
Silence settled between them for a moment, the crackle of the hearth and the murmur of the remaining patrons filling the space while Arthur let the words sit. He wondered, just for a heartbeat, what it would feel like to have a father like that. His own father had been the opposite. The thought passed quickly before he pushed it aside. Dwelling on the past would bring nothing but misery.
Duncan chuckled then, breaking the quiet while he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "I'm sure you want to know what I meant when I mentioned Cassie earlier."
Arthur perked up at once, giving the prince his full attention while he sat straighter in his chair.
Duncan hesitated for a long moment, fingers tapping once against the side of his tankard before he looked directly at Arthur. "I'm sure you know the stories about me. About Duncan the Small. Prince of Dragonflies. The man who had everything and gave it all up for a common girl."
Arthur nodded. Who didn't know the story? To the commoners, especially among the women, it's one of the greatest love stories ever told.
"I chose to abdicate the throne and marry a common girl," Duncan said while he stared into the fire for a moment. "I chose love over duty."
He paused, then continued in a quieter voice. "I believe everyone faces that decision at some point in their lives. But the gods seemed to deem me fit enough to test me twice."
Arthur frowned while he watched the prince's face. "You loved another?"
Duncan nodded slowly. "It was a long time ago. I was young... maybe your age."
He leaned back again while his eyes grew distant as if he wasn't even seeing Arthur anymore. "I can still see her as if it was yesterday. Wavy black hair like polished jet. Emerald eyes that looked right through you. Pale skin that flushed whenever she laughed. Beautiful."
He took a slow breath. "I met her in Flea Bottom. She often visited and helped the homeless children there, bringing food, mending clothes, whatever she could scrape together."
"I fell for her instantly."
Duncan's voice softened further. "I'd spend my days in Flea Bottom with her. I'd ignore my duties, my training. I didn't have a betrothal yet, but I was still making my family look bad. Soon it wouldn't be long before they called me the Flea Bottom Prince."
He shook his head. "I broached the idea of marrying her to my father but he wouldn't hear of it. I even tried to introduce her and explain things. And while he was polite and courteous to her, he explained that the crown prince couldn't marry a common girl. The realm was in enough upset as it is."
Duncan's fingers tightened around the tankard. "It was then I made the decision. I chose duty over love. I broke it off with her and tried to forget about her."
His voice dropped lower. "Then I found out that she died. And I knew I had made the wrong decision."
He exhaled again. "After that I lived life as a broken man until I met Jenny. It was then I knew the gods had offered me a chance to make the right decision. So I abdicated the throne for love. But I never forgot my first love."
Arthur felt a quiet sorrow for the prince sitting across from him. He could hear the weight in every word, the years of regret layeredbenewth the surface. Still, the question burned in his chest. "What does this have to do with Cassie?"
Duncan looked at him steadily now, all trace of the night's merriment gone from his face. "The moment I saw Cassie it was like I saw her again. The same eyes. The same hair."
He leaned forward while he lowered his voice even further. "That's the reason I've been in Flea Bottom these past months, I've been searching for the truth. It took me a long time, but I finally found one of her old friends from back then. She told me that my love had been pregnant at the time. And that she had given birth."
Arthur's eyes widened while the words settled in his chest like stones dropping into still water.
Duncan nodded. "That's right, Arthur. Cassie is my daughter."
(AN: I'm sure some of you put the pieces together I've dropped a few hints before. But yeah Cassie is Cassandra Targaryen. Well she is a bastard, but I wager that may not always be the case. Anyway that means Arthur's child is directly related to the King, good on ya lad. Anyway hope you enjoyed.)
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