⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀WITHOUT A SQUIRE IS THE HEDGE KNIGHT, although as similar to a hedge knight ser duncan the tall is as daemon blackfyre was to a targaryen prince; a pretender daemon blackfyre was, and a pretender too is ser duncan the tall, and 'though the gods favor a fraud not, favor a mockery the gods do, lord lyonel said, and a right laugh and a sure riot ser duncan must be, feigning hedge knighthood. 'least the black dragon pretended to be a prince. 'least the black dragon were targaryen blood, a would be prince were he not bastard born. men fought and died for the half bastard blood of the dragon and believed it righteous, for no pretender daemon blackfyre was to those who flew the black dragon's banner. knights of house hardyng and house beesbury, sworn by sword and before the seven into service, and the prince of dragonstone blood of the dragon through and through and true had died for a fraud, for a flea bottom bastard born of gutter blood wielding a sword not his by right and a shield with an insignia he need not need, for a knight he is not but a squire overgrown.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀maybe you're not the knight i thought you were, a knife to the heart it is to duncan, but the boy's right: 'twas a monstrous lie they both told, the stableboy squire no squire and the hedge knight no knight. but a boy of ten aegon is, and wont to lie to get what they want are boys of ten, hardly men grown. but one man knows of duncan's monstrous lie and had natheless been one of the knights 'mongst duncan's seven and asked of the deceiver accompaniment. come with me to storm's end, lord lyonel'd said, where they'll hunt and hawk and make merry and where the monstrous lie duncan had told will be banished to the bottom of shipbreaker bay sailing to the sapphire isle. and 'though all he does is bring pain and suffering to those around him, aye, desperate enough is the hedge knight to blight the lord of storm's end with his presence.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀to the baratheon's cavalcade, then, does the hedge knight lead with a limp chestnut and thunder, and there bruised and with dried blood clinging still to a beard canescent sits the lord paramount of the stormlands perched 'pon a phaeton betwixt the parade of carts and men and horses. a beautiful sight to behold is the lord bathed in sunlight, and breathless is the hedge knight. "lyonel, m'lord," he says, swallowing, blue eyes to those of honeyed amber, "if ... if the offer still stands, it would be an honor to accompany you to storm's end, ser."