synopsis; dunk comes to you needing your services, but as his heart so often betrays him, he finds himself wanting much more than your skill.
genre; fluff
pairing; ser duncan the tall/blacksmiths daughter!reader
warnings; none!
a/n; anon i forgot to say that isn't asking much AT ALL. i know this took me over two months to post...but i promised myself if i ever stopped posting that i wouldn't let this req go without publication. BUT I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE so ignore that last part. HERE IS THE NEXT AND FINAL PART!
Fog had overtaken your humble village between the days Dunk and Egg had stayed.
Beyond the forge was a river, and beyond the river was a grass field. The pair of man and child would use the grounds to train as you worked on the order of the tall hedge knight. Oftentimes, you found yourself gazing past the water to watch them clash with wooden swords. It intrigued you, and your buried wish to learn the ways of knighthood slowly roared back to life.
What was it like, swinging a mace? To deflect another’s attack with a short sword? All your life, you’d only ever handed over steel for coin. You forged these weapons for others, for those truly worthy of the honor to wield them.
You blinked, finding the boy had abandoned his knight in the field to cross over the stone bridge. He came running to you with his jagged sword, the wood split and useless.
“My lady,” he panted, coming to the wooden rail that separated him from your forge. “Do you have…do you have any practice swords? Ser Duncan has broken mine. And I have coin! Here, I—“
“Save your stags,” you stood from where you sat at your grindstone. “I have plenty.”
Beside your workbench was a chest, and you moved a few raw materials to grab him a study practice sword. When you brought it to him, he took it with thanks.
“Aye, take care of that one.”
Egg nodded, a smile gracing his soft features, “I will.”
He took a step back, marveling at his new weapon.
“Wait, now,” you called. “Might you humor me?”
Egg stopped, and you glanced to see his knight taking a breather. His massive body was lying on the grass, giving you time to speak to the boy.
“…How good of a knight is your ser?” You questioned, arms crossing as you leaned onto the railing.
“Ser Duncan is the very best in Westeros,” there was no hesitation in the lad; rather, a great, protective fury in his claim.
“I would not be here otherwise.”
“Whatever it is you ask, he will get done.” The boy stood his ground. “He is good on his word, my lady. As am I.”
The boy left no room for argument, not that you wished to quarrel with a child.
“Then I ask you to fetch him,” you requested, finding his admiration for the hedge knight extremely tender. “I would like to speak to Ser Duncan if he can spare the time.”
“I think he’d like that.” Egg nodded, and before you could protest, he left some copper coins on the railing. He ran off, taking the wooden sword across the bridge and into the grass where his knight still lay.
You tried not to watch. There was work to be done, and you could use the time to fulfill your duty.
Duty. Who cared for duty when the tall man in the grass pushed himself up by the command of his squire? Duty felt more like a punishment, one you refused to be subjected to as he crossed over the bridge.
“My squire says you wish to speak to me,” he said as he came to the railing. For once, Dunk had to look up when speaking to another—unless kneeling counted, but he couldn’t remember the last time he did so.
“Your squire has much confidence in you.” You pushed back, bringing yourself to stand with a straighter spine. “He believes you're the greatest knight to ever live.”
“…Could I test his word?” You questioned.
“I want to see for myself, ser.”
Dunk swallowed, “he’s…he’s a young lad, m’lady. I might have skill, but I have much to learn.”
“But you can swing a sword,” your head tilted, and he nodded. “And you can…strike a man?”
You turned around and walked to your chest. Dunk watched in dumbfounding silence as you pulled a practice sword and abandoned your forge to climb down the steps opposite where he stood. You came to him with a polite smile.
“Teach me how to battle, ser.” you left no room for argument. “I’ll see what you owe me in coin is paid in full.”
By now, the flush had reached his cheeks.
“…To teach me to fight, aye,” you finished for him. “Surely any knight can.”
Dunk nodded despite barely comprehending what was going on. The moment you began to walk over to the bridge, he followed like a dog.
“Get him, my lady! Get him!”
The field was overtaken by the shouts of the boy in the straw hat. He cheered without restraint, watching his knight go toe-to-toe with the blacksmith’s kin. For almost a week, you joined them for a couple of hours, learning the ways of the sword from a hedge knight and his young squire.
Dunk lost his balance when your body slammed into his middle at full speed. He fell back with enough force to shake the earth, and for a terrifying second, he couldn’t breathe. You were an aggressive woman—a creature of unbridled energy, and it made his stomach stir with more than pain.
Gods, what would it take to tire you out?
Egg was cut off by his own screech of triumph. His scream pierced your ears and pulled Dunk from his brazen thoughts, making him remember he was still on the ground.
“Are you alright?” You extended your hand. “I ought to stop doing that. I’ve thrown you on your back far too many times, ser.”
Dunk would’ve taken your hand, had he not thought the action would send you slamming into the ground he lay on. He waved your aid, wishing not to make you stumble in the effort of helping him up.
“I don’t mind being on my back.” He stood with a groan. “It’s one of the lesser prices of training another.”
"Let's go again, then," you smiled as you swayed to and fro. Your skirt moved along with you, making Dunk blink like a man gone blind. "One more shouldn't hurt."
For you, Dunk internally groaned. But if he let the mask slip, allowed you to see that getting the air knocked from his lungs was a tiring dance, you’d leave to your forge. Either way, you’d go—yet the fool hedge knight wanted to keep you around, even if only for a few minutes more.
“Aye,” he inhaled, “one more.”
“Then I can have a turn?” Egg perked up. “I’d like to spar with you, my lady.”
Dunk would’ve protested had he not felt the ache in his bones. He rolled his shoulders, passing a glance to you—just to find you looking back at him.
“I suppose if your ser allows it,” you answered, gaze still on him. Your words were nothing but innocent, and Dunk couldn’t do more than blush. The blood in his body was a traitorous thing, always shaming his heart for its heavy rhythm.
“…Aye,” his voice nearly cracked. “Yeah. Yes, that’s fine.”
“Good,” you and Egg said in unison. A look was shared, and Dunk readied himself for another beating.
You spent another hour with the pair before retreating back to your shop. The sun was beginning to set, and the skies were making way for the stars above. You were tired, yes, but there was work to be done. The hedge knight and his squire could not stay forever.
It was the middle of the night when you traveled across the bridge back to the small campsite. The boy had already fallen asleep near the fire, his body wrapped snugly by his cloak and Dunk's. As for the man, he wasn't too far away, sitting with his knife in one hand and a whetstone in the other. The helm in your grasp suddenly felt heavier, as if the armor itself was the beginning of your goodbye.
"Late for you to be sharpening your steel, ser," you announced yourself some feet away. Dunk froze for a half second, eyes darting to the grass from his blade at the presence of another. "But I suppose I took up so much of your time lately, you've neglected your chores."
The silence was slightly deafening, like the hedge knight couldn't quite grasp that you had come to him so late into the night. He finally looked up when you shifted, and the moonlight gleamed into the newly forged helm.
"It's the boy's chore," he answered, already forgetting what it was he was doing. "He was tired, though...lad needs his rest."
You didn't know what to say after. It was strange to speak to him without Egg awake, watching, helping when neither of you knew what to say to one another. Although you had a piece of his armor in your hands, your mind went blank. By the Seven, what was happening to you?
Dunk cleared his throat, "shouldn't you be inside?"
"Yes," came quickly from your lips. "It's too noisy to beat steel at this time, and...and I did finish your helm, ser."
You offered it to him, stepping closer to meet his hands. "Could you try it on? Most can tell the size of one's head after so many years. I'm not there just yet."
Dunk examined the helm, the steel weighing comfortably in his grasp. You hadn't changed much from what he'd given you, and for that, he was appreciative. Under your gaze, he brought the helm above his head.
"Good, ser?" You questioned quietly.
"Perfect, m'lady," his response was muffled, but you smiled all the same. "Did you—“
"I widened your visor by an inch." You confirmed with a sickening-sweet sense of satisfaction. "Before I threw the other one, I had tried it for myself. I thought a bit more width would strengthen your sight and still protect it."
Oh, Seven preserve me, Dunk looked back at you just to catch a glimpse of your body swaying.
"I'll have the rest of your armor ready by morning," you continued.
"I have a few leather strips left for your bracers."
"Aye," you shrugged, "Best to do it now before sunrise."
Dunk took his helm off, his mind stuck between reminding you about a goodnight's rest and the risks of a worn-down spirit. A mishap could transpire, or you could be harmed if not careful. The latter was worse than finding a ding in his armor.
"...Would you join me?" You dared to ask, a surge of courage already hot on your heels. "Seeing as we won't be resting anytime soon."
Bold, your head shouted. Look at him...is he sweating? You've scared him off.
Yet he smiled, one of those bashful, hopeless upturns that softened the edges of his features. "Company wouldn't hurt, m'lady. That I know so."
He pushed up off the grass, leaving the helm and sliding his knife in its sheath behind his back. Egg would be alright, he knew, as he'd be watched from the forge.
Trouble wouldn't dare present itself, not while the hedge knight followed you to your sanctuary.
