Sideblog of sobeautifullyobsessed. & a place for me to fully indulge my romantic pinings. Be forewarned, there may be some NSFW as well. Header sketch by @purplefeathersandblackleather, based on my RP OFC, Beauty Lincoln
Experimenting with my style. I was trying to make it look more webtoon-like.
Fun fact: the episode in which they go out solving cases is the best. Objectively.
I think a really good relationship dynamic is when one partner is an entirely absurd person and the other partner's perpetual thought process is, "I adore you. Why are you like this? I'm going to kiss you at such length and with such fervor that you'll get disoriented and stop being like this for five minutes and I can rest, for fuck's sake."
author's note: both Dunk and OC are from the UK 2026, which accounts for their modern form of speech as opposed to that of Westeros. Humor. Angst. Slow-burn. And then all at once. G rated, 5.9k words.
That's...that's really good, Duncan," she managed as he finished and then handed her back the comb. Vicki smiled softly when their eyes met, and saw quiet gratitude reflected there. It was a breathless moment for both of them, and she wanted to lean closer. Wanted to see if he was feeling the same low hum of needing a physical connection between them--but instead, she backed away. "Supper is probably ready by now..." she stated quietly, then turned and headed for their camp. Her heart was thumping so damn hard, and she could hear him follow just a few steps behind her, but Vicki kept herself from looking back.
Chapter Four ~ a day in the life...
Once he was sure that Vicki slept, Dunk draped his own blanket over her, then sat on the ground at the other side of the fire. Curled away from him, she looked so soft and so small that he found it hard to envision her breaking some guy's nose. He didn't doubt that she could do it; he'd briefly been the target of just a little of her fierce ire in the moment they had met. And might end up so again when she awoke to find he had given her his blanket against her wishes anyway--but he wouldn't mind facing that. She'd stripped off her dress to ball it into a makeshift pillow, and the shift she wore beneath was impractical against the cold of sleeping on bare ground. Dunk wouldn't be able to sleep himself, knowing she'd be shivering and probably sleepless. He should've thought to tell her that when she staunchly declined his offer, but she wore her stubbornness so prettily that he could only sputter in reply. At least he had managed to get her to accept his bedroll to lay upon, having convinced her he preferred to sleep leaning against a thick tree trunk.
He should be exhausted--he was, in fact--but their situation being round the bend and twice again, along with the events of the day itself, had him wired. Before Vicki had bedded down, they had quietly discussed how they should proceed tomorrow, both the practical aspects of functioning hour by hour in this strange, new world, and then how they might discover the unknown alchemy that had landed them here. With the tenuous hope that they could reverse the spell and find their way home.
"Yeah, we have jousts at the Ren Faire, but they're carefully choreographed," she had told him, as they considered the challenge that Dunk was expected to face in Ser Duncan's stead. "There's a script. There's good guys and bad guys. Every move is mapped out to minimize the chance of any injuries. And, Duncan, you said you've never ridden a horse before..."
Dunk had hung his head low, weighing his options. "I can't run away, V--and not just because whatever solution we might find to get us home is bound to be here. This Ser Duncan sounds like a real stand-up guy, and I'd hate to damage his reputation. Especially with the way the kid looks up to him."
"But to joust, Duncan--that's gonna be dangerous."
"Well, whatever I'm gonna have to do, it's the day after tomorrow."
"Yeah," she said quietly, staring into the fire. They sat in silence for a few minutes until Vicki spoke up, "The kid, though. Egg? He knows what you'll need to do, right?"
"I'd assume so, yeah."
"I know a little bit about riding," she'd told him, hopefully, "Maybe between Egg and I, we can get you on the horse, teach you the basics."
"Really?" Dunk perked up. "What d'ya know?"
"Wellllll...I wanted to be a Shakespearean actress," an expression she framed in air quotes, rolling her eyes, "Since I was about twelve." Vicki chuckled softly. "Cut my teeth on my mum's ancient copy of Branagh's Much Ado About Nothing, and the women were soooo tanned and beautiful all dressed in white linen, and the men so dashing in their uniform coats and riding horses...dazzled me really, and that's when I decided that's what I wanted to do when I grew up." She shrugged and looked away, "Far cry from it now."
"I wouldn't say that, V. You're pretty convincing to me."
"That's very kind of you to say, Duncan, but perhaps not entirely accurate. Anyway," she sighed, "When I found out there were equestrian summer camps, I saved most of my allowance every week and all of my babysitting money so I could go. Plus, my oldest brother Daron was working full-time by then and was nice enough to chip in the difference. Two weeks every summer for three years. So, I picked up a fair bit."
"That's great, V."
"I guess we'll see tomorrow, Duncan. But we'll have to get you on the horse first."
"Gotta say I'm not thrilled about it," he grimaced, "But I don't see as I have much choice."
Vicki nodded, then drew a sharp breath through her teeth. "But then there's the lance to worry about. Those suckers are heavy."
"Maybe not as much for me as for other men," he suggested, quietly smirking, "I can bench press upwards of 100 kilos."
Even by firelight, Dunk could see Vicki went speechless for a moment as her widened eyes traced the breadth of his shoulders. Making him sit just a bit straighter. "Um...wow...that's...very impressive, Duncan." She gave a little shrug and a smile that struck him as...appraising...before focusing on the flames at her feet. "So, I guess it's safe to assume that won't be an issue for you. Except for aiming and holding it straight while you ride..."
"Right. Bollocks!"
"Pretty much, yeah." She tried to sound positive, "But you, uh...strike me as an athletic guy, so that's gotta be in your favor."
"Yeah, probably." Dunk had wondered then if he'd be able to get even a wink of sleep just thinking about the things he'd need to overcome in so little time. He'd been queasy in the midst of their conversation but had known full well that it wasn't on account of the fried bread that he and Vicki had shared. It was nerves, pure and simple; he'd suffered from a nervous stomach since he was a kid. If ever he had cause, the prospect of facing down a rider equipped with deadly weapons atop a half-ton animal charging straight for him, was the ultimate one.
Dunk cast his eyes back to the still form sleeping on the other side of the fire, and as he watched her, his mind began to calm a bit. She was a funny little bird, brimming with energy and easy humor. Sassy but sweet, and surely as smart as the Egg kid. And she had a real bravado that masked her vulnerability most of the time--but now that he'd seen that softness, he couldn't unsee it. In another world...hell, in our world, he thought, she's the kind of girl I'd give a second look. Not 'cuz she's pretty, but 'cuz she's fiesty and funny, but tender in a quiet way--and she hasn't once looked at me askance or judged me stupid on account of my size as so many other girls do. This Vicki was nice enough to really like, if only the situation weren't so barking mad.
Plus, by her account, she'd had a fair share of lonely struggles before getting here, and Dunk felt that Vicki could use an ally, even a friend, if she'd allow it. He could at least be that for her. Easily...
"Is she staying with us then, Ser?" Dunk had forgotten Egg was even around until the boy spoke up while unfurling his bedroll a couple feet from their campfire.
With his eyes still fixed on Vicki, Dunk nodded before answering, in an absent-minded tone, "Yeah, I think so, Egg. I...I think she should." He looked to the boy, not to justify his decision, only just to make him understand. "Her journey here was way rougher than mine, and I think...yeah, I'm pretty sure that our...fates...are tied together somehow." Dunk turned back to his watch, "Besides which, I'm charged with protecting the helpless, right? And I bet she'll never admit it, but she is in need of the kind of help I'd be, uh...I'd be glad to offer." And I do believe any way home for either of us lies in us working together...
Vicki had been surprised to sleep as well as she did; on the ground, in the veritable wilderness, with not even a true pillow to cradle her head. She had never really been an outdoor girl--the horsey camp, as her family had come to refer to her summer adventures, was the closest she'd ever come to roughing it. But last night, she'd slept just a few feet away from a genuine campfire, and this morning, she awoke to some sweet birdsong. Not bad, she had thought. I'm surviving the insanity...so far.
She'd actually woken up briefly in the night as well, after having been caught in a dream where she was trying to run through a lightly wooded patch of trees. In the dark, with forks of lightening splitting the sky. It had felt like her feet were cased in cement so that she couldn't move, and her fear had been growing exponentially with each passing moment. Vicki had desperately called out for help, fearful as sheets of rain suddenly drenched her. And then he had come. She hadn't needed to see his face to know it was him. Vicki had recognized him by his sheer size alone. Duncan. Her fellow traveler in this strange place. Solid and broad-shouldered, physically imposing. The figural hero archetype that she had once studied in playwriting class. She could have written him herself, if she had ever had the notion.
In the nightmare--because that was what being trapped that way felt like--he had played the Hero's role. Scooping her up effortlessly, carrying her to safety from the storm, to rest beneath an ancient elm tree. Setting her down so gently that she marveled that his obvious strength could be so soft. Vicki's dream self had opened her mouth to thank him, but dream Duncan had already turned away. She would've called him back, but he dissolved like mist and she was all alone again. The distress of it had been enough to wake her.
She had opened her eyes to find she'd flipped over in the night to face the fire. The real Duncan was sprawled on his back across from her, snoring softly. No bedroll beneath him, no blanket on top. Despite her having made it more than clear that she didn't want him to, he'd draped his blanket over her anyway, and in her restless slumber, it was now wrapped full well around her. Grudgingly grateful for its warmth, Vicki pulled it more snuggly about her, thinking she might have to have a stern word or two for him come morning--but that it somehow carried the scent of him was an unexpected distraction. That's gotta be the real Ser Duncan's scent, she told herself. Don't be a silly, romantic little fool. Again. Still, it was a pleasant comfort as she settled back down to sleep.
The rest of her night passed dreamlessly, leaving Vicki to conclude that it had simply been the mental exhaustion and the total shock of finding herself in an alternate reality, that had caused such a nightmare to begin with.
She was terribly hungry upon waking, but decided she needed to have a wash first, if she could even find some water for it. She saw neither Duncan or the Egg child, so had no one to ask. Vicki discarded her wilted flower crown on top of the bedroll, left her lute and bow resting against a tree trunk, and took her burlap sack, in search of a stream to see to her needs. She found a little brook within several hundred yards and washed yesterday's sweat and grime and fear from her skin as best she could. Feeling a little bit better from donning fresh clothes; in the 'transmigration' between home and here, her street clothes had transformed appropriately. Vicki's plain white tee, light sweater, and jeans had become a gauzy, cream-colored peasant blouse and dark blue harem pants in a funky, geometric pattern with a silky, plain blue vest. Not bad, she grinned, impressed at how perfectly they fit. Way cooler than half the costumes they give us at the Ren Faire.
Returning to their campsite, she found Duncan and Egg talking quietly beside the embers of their campfire. Vicki took a seat nearby and busied herself loosing her braids and freeing the ribbons from her hair. "Good morning, fellas." She tried to sound as chipper as possible, hoping to start the day on a positive note, "I don't suppose either of you have a hairbrush or even a comb I could use?"
The bald boy was quick to give answer, "Only those we use for the horses..." He looked to Duncan, who nodded and motioned for him to continue. "...just those for the horses, Ms..." He seemed to struggle a moment over her name, while Duncan murmured encouragement 'go ahead now, Egg. "...Virgilia." She beamed him a smile meant to put him at ease, and the boy appeared to relax a little.
"Excuse us a bit, Egg," Duncan instructed him quietly, "Ms. Virgilia and I have a few things to discuss." The boy nodded, and headed off to the horses.
"Ms.," she asked, once the kid was out of earshot.
"It's all I could think of when he put me on the spot, V." His sheepish expression made him look about seventeen and very--endearingly--wet behind the ears. Vicki bit her cheek to keep from chuckling at it. "I have no idea how they address women here except for maybe 'lady'. And somehow, I didn't think you'd go for that."
"And I wouldn't've," she laughed, "Great call, Ser Duncan." The tips of his ears had gone bright pink, only reinforcing for her the feel of him being youthful and inexperienced--in this world anyway. Vicki had tied her hair back with one of the ribbons and began to plait it into a single, thick braid, reweaving the remaining ribbons throughout. "I don't suppose we've got anything like breakfast here."
"Oh, but we do." Duncan held up a hunk of something thick and brown. "Here...catch..."
Vicki managed to snag it, and brought it to her nose for a sniff. "What is this? Beef jerky?" She didn't like the texture, nor the faintly rancid way it smelled.
"Kinda like," he answered, "But way saltier and much harder to chew. To be honest, I could really go for a big bowl of fruit loops right now. And a banana."
Giggling, she tossed the 'jerky' back to him, as he inquired of her, "So...how 'bout you?"
"Oh, man, Duncan, what wouldn't I go for, stuck like we are in a place like this?" Vicki bowed her head, picturing breakfast at home. "I'd love some strawberry yogurt and almond granola...and...oh crap!" She slapped a hand over her mouth for a moment and then added, "...and a toothbrush...oh gawd..."
"Yeah, I know. Here, try this." He tossed her a twig, with some of the bark on one end stripped off.
"Hey, that's neat! How'd you think of that?"
"Saw it on Survivor," he laughed. "Careful, though--they taste kinda sappy, but not in a maple syrup kind of way."
Vicki gave him an easy smile back. "Thanks...Dunk." She watched a moment as he applied his homespun toothbrush to his own teeth, touched to realize he'd already had that stupid twig stripped of bark so she could use it right away. A small but thoughtful kindness--like sneaking her his blanket. Other guys she knew...hell, even strange men roaming the Faire and calling her a wench while hoping to cop a feel...they'd taught her there were often strings attached to acts of kindness. This Duncan Dunne was different. Genuinely kind and sweet. Not just physically head and shoulders above the rest, but in a class all his own. Like a knight among a bunch of...well...orcs. Kind of made her wonder if he didn't belong in this Westeros after all.
Lost in her thoughts, Vicki didn't realize that Duncan has come to sit beside her. "What do you say we send Egg down to try and get us something decent to eat? Like a game bird or some fresh bread...know what I mean?"
"If you think so, Duncan. Sure."
"Hey, you okay, V?" He looked honestly concerned to find her so distracted.
"Ooooh, I'm fine, Dunk." It was only a little fib, because how could she put those thoughts into words? The task at hand was to get home by just about any means necessary. She couldn't allow herself to get sidetracked no matter how sweetly he treated her. Or by his remarkable eyes, so wide, so blue, so damnably earnest that they made her lose her train of thought if she looked in them too long. "Just thinking about our next moves. You know, getting you on a horse."
"Bollocks. I knew that was coming."
Vicki laid her hand atop his, meaning to reassure him. Her palm felt cool against the vibrance of his warmth, and without intending it, her eyes darted to his face to gauge his reaction. Time seemed to slow for a couple of heartbeats; time enough to read his surprise and something else she couldn't quite name, in the way his mouth hung open and in the whisper of color shading along his cheekbones. She could only hope he hadn't noticed her own sudden flush. How embarrassing that would be! "Um...I, uh..." she had to move her hand as that warmth of his was interfering with her focus. "I've plenty of their coins left from yesterday if you need more to make a meal for us."
"No, um...I think I've a pretty good handle now on the value of these, uh...coppers and stags and whatnot," he nodded, licking his lips several times as he spoke. "Save yours for later, as we'll probably need them...eventually." Duncan rose abruptly, turned in place, then turned back to her. "I ought to get Egg going on his errand...and then, um..." He puffed out his cheeks in a long exhale, then shrugged, "...we'll do the...horse...thing...like you said." Vicki might have found his hesitation amusing, even kind of cute, if she wasn't still questioning why she suddenly felt so off kilter herself.
And then he was gone, off like a shot, and she was suddenly missing his warmth. Even when they weren't connected in some way, his warmth had staked a claim upon her. The warmth of his laughter in the ale tent, pushing back against the fear that sought to overwhelm her. The warmth and solidity of his presence at her side, her arm tucked unquestioned in his, as he led her through the darkness unto the safety of this little camp. The warmth of his continual kindness, which appeared to come to him as naturally as breathing and was shared in the quietest of gestures. The warmth in his extraordinary eyes when they lingered on hers just a mite overlong and in his rumbling voice that reminded her she wasn't alone nor was she completely cut off from home.
Duncan's irrepressible warmth, gone as suddenly as she realized she craved it. Vicki found herself wishing for any excuse to get it back again.
With Egg off to fetch what would be brunch for them by the time he returned, Duncan's lessons in mounting and riding a horse fell completely to her. She started by demonstrating on Chestnut; approaching the horse face to face, speaking gently to him, then checking his bridle and saddle and girth to make sure they were all safe and secure. "Oh, he's a good boy," she told Duncan, as much to reassure herself--it had been several years since she'd ridden and Vicki was frankly feeling rusty--and to calm any anxiety that Duncan had to be feeling leading up to his own attempt. "Such a pretty, good boy," she repeated for Chestnut's sake, patting the side of his neck affectionately. "Always mount from the left," she told Duncan. She took a deep breath, released it, and set her left foot in the stirrup, hoisting herself up in a single, swift move onto the saddle. Sighing her relief at her success.
"Okay, so..." It was all coming back to her now as one of an Actor's greatest tools--muscle memory--began to assert itself. "Horses are very sensitive. Especially to any tension you may be carrying. So, you'll need to breathe calmly and evenly. And to sit with your back straight, shoulders even, keeping your core engaged." Vicki leaned forward a little to pat Chestnut's neck again, "Yes, you are a pretty boy, Chestnut. Shall we show the man what we can do?" Chestnut nickered as if giving answer, and Vicki sat perfectly straight again, then gently squeezed her calves against the horse. Soon enough, he was trotting.
She rode in a short circle twice, then reined to a stop in front of Duncan. He was looking up at her with a kind of awe, tinged with uncertainty. "It's okay, Dunk--I swear it is. Most of the challenge is just getting on the horse and getting comfortable up here. Being in charge of this elegant creature, but also letting yourself feel like you're...hmmmm...part of one another. Dependent, for safety and success."
Duncan nodded, an unexpected determination blooming upon his brow. She had to wonder if part of that was the idea that if a girl weighing in at about half his weight could do it, surely he could too. Truth was, she wouldn't have minded if that was the case. Anything to help him through the outrageous challenge he was heading into. "Show me again, Vicki?"
"Of course, Dunk." Her chest flooded with relief to see that he clearly wanted to overcome his fear of the unknown. "I'd be very, very glad to."
By the time Egg got back to camp, Duncan had mounted Thunder three times and learned to set his formidable 'warhorse' to walk, trot, circle and change directions. Though both she and Dunk were famished by then, Vicki insisted on riding both horses to the little brook she had found earlier, loosening their saddles and letting them rest in the shade. Only then did they and Egg dig in and finish every scrap of the two game hens and huge loaf of rosemary and goat cheese bread which Egg had procured. Surely we've earned every single bite, Vicki had mused, enjoying the spectacle of Dunk's enormous appetite and the playful banter between him and the boy. And surely that was one of the best meals of my life. Both for the astonishing flavors...and for the company I shared them with.
Afterwards, Duncan had explained to Egg how badly his memory had suffered from that blow to his head, and that he needed to go over the most important details of jousting with him and to get in a much practice as possible before the match tomorrow. Whether it was with some measure of true confidence or just bravado for the boy's sake, Vicki was impressed with how Duncan had risen to face the very frightening prospect that awaited him less than a day away. She couldn't help but feel a growing hope on his behalf.
It turned out to be a grueling afternoon for all three of them. Egg was a bright but very strict taskmaster--with obvious good reason, and Vicki found herself fonder and fonder of him by the hour, absolutely grateful that of all the flukes of she and Dunk ending up in this place, they had a sweet little guardian angel to help them navigate the worst obstacle in their way of getting home.
Working with the practice lances proved to be the toughest task of the day. As he'd foreseen, Duncan had no problem lifting them; it was aiming them while reining Thunder properly, which was the biggest, unavoidable issue. He was simply too new at it to be able to manage both properly at the same time. In the end, Egg-- who remained utterly flummoxed that his Ser has forgotten the most vital elements of his job--suggested that Duncan's aim would have to be the more important skill because "...the fence lanes in the lists should at least keep Thunder from veering wildly if you can't get him to go where you mean him to." They only halted Duncan's practice when the sun grew low in the sky, and only then to finally give Thunder his rest, so that he'd be fresh enough for what awaited rider and horse tomorrow.
Vicki had enough experience with horses to volunteer to give Thunder his rub down, while Egg and Duncan would see to their dinner. She found it surprisingly relaxing, with the last golden rays of sunlight sparkling on the little brook, which murmured pleasantly. She was humming to herself, bits and pieces of the songs in her fiddling repertoire, trying to think of nothing but the horse in order to keep her qualms about how Duncan would fare in the joust, at bay . So lost was she in her distractions, she didn't notice he had joined her, so that she gave a little start when he cleared his throat.
"Is supper done," she asked, keeping her attention on Thunder.
"Nope." That single word was the keynote of his frustration. "But Egg is done with me, more's the pity..."
Though Vicki didn't want to look at him, fearing that the color of his eyes in the dying sunlight might be too riveting to resist, he sounded so disappointed in himself that she had to. His exhaustion was clear in the slump of his shoulders alone, his quiet frustration etched in the lines of his face. "He actually told me he'd work quicker without my help, V." Duncan closed his eyes, an real pout forming on his lips. "I'm useless at everything I set my hand to here."
"Oh, Duncan, please," she protested, stepping closer to him, "I swear to you that I wouldn't have survived last night or even today without you. You've been so calm and...well, so strong through all of...this...and you make me hope when I would've given up hours and hours ago.
Duncan bowed his head and she could feel some of his tension dissipate. "C'mere," she said softly, "Let me show you how to comb his mane."
Vicki tried her damnedest not show a single sign of how his nearness affected her--hard to accomplish because when Duncan stepped close, his sheer physicality dominated the space. How easy it would be to let herself ponder what it would be like to have those arms encircle her fully. To lean against the solid wall of his chest. To have him rest his chin familiarly on the top of her head. To be held thus, so safely and by such a good-hearted soul, would be almost like a coming home of sorts. But it would serve no purpose towards their true aim, let alone seeing him safely through the joust tomorrow.
She handed him the comb, careful not to gasp at the contact of their skin, and them guided his arm to Thunder. "Gently...gently, so you don't startle him, Duncan. And be patient with the snarls." Vicki's mouth had gone dry and she worried that he would hear the quiver of her breath. How are you so beautiful, man? Everything about you now...your every detail...makes me ache with wanting. Even his gentle care of Thunder was driving her a little mad.
"That's...that's really good, Duncan," she managed as he finished and then handed her back the comb. Vicki smiled softly when their eyes met, and saw quiet gratitude reflected there. It was a breathless moment for both of them, and she wanted to lean closer. Wanted to see if he was feeling the same low hum of needing a physical connection between them--but instead, she backed away. "Supper is probably ready by now..." she stated quietly, then turned and headed for their camp. Her heart was thumping so damn hard, and she could hear him follow just a few steps behind her, but Vicki kept herself from looking back.
Supper was a stew of hard salt fish (which thankfully, had softened somewhat as it simmered) and a root vegetable that looked and tasted like sweet potato. Egg had thoughtfully set aside a second, smaller loaf of a nutty sort of bread that reminded Vicki of pumpernickel, to go with the stew. Given what she'd seen of Duncan's voraciousness earlier, she thought that very wise on the youngster's part, as else it would've easily already been gone the way of their lunch.
Still, Duncan was much subdued while they ate, barely finishing his single bowl of stew. Vicki had made sure to sit with Egg between them to avoid a fresh flush of weakness towards Dunk overtaking her. It will only complicate our situation even more, she chided herself, and we're both too vulnerable to know right now if the attraction is true or just from a jumble of desperation and fear making us want to cling to something familiar.
As dusk spread across the sky, lively strains of distant music from the tourney grounds reached their campsite. It put Vicki in mind of the final act of the day-long play that was typical of a Renaissance Faire. In Eynsford, as elsewhere, it entailed a 'King's Feast' (ticketed patrons only, at an extra fee) and a closing melee (two teams of four knights each), with a small band of musicians playing period pieces in the banquet tent before that final joust. Vicki had always preferred busking than playing with the group; it allowed her to experiment with bits of music those others wouldn't think to attempt in such a setting. Hearing the music from the tourney now set her to feeling the most homesick of her time here. But at least she had a remedy for that.
Retrieving her instrument where she had left that morning, Vicki noted something sitting atop her burlap bag. A hairbrush. Gobsmacked as she picked it up, her heart filled with immediate warmth and further fondness for the hand that had set it there. She sought him out at once.
Egg was seated by the fire, hard at work polishing the brass bits of Thunder's bridal and stirrups, and cleaning and oiling the leather, all to make for his best appearance at tomorrow's joust. She took a seat beside him, offering a word of encouragement first. "I know you must be worried about how Ser Duncan will acquit himself tomorrow. I think...I think it's best for us to have faith. If we believe in him, Egg...I think that'll go a ways to help him believe in himself."
Egg nodded but kept his eyes on his chore. "As you say, Ms. Virgilia. I do believe, and I've seldom seen him fail."
"Right...good." She glanced over at Duncan who was looking very glum, aimlessly whitling a piece of formless wood. "And, Egg...I have to thank you for the hairbrush. It's the most wonderful surprise and very thoughtful."
Egg looked to her, wearing a small wise smile. "You're very welcome, ma'am. I was glad to do it. But you ought to know, 'twas Ser that told me to use what coin was left after buying our food stuffs, to get it for you."
"Oh...oh my." She should've guessed of course. It was exactly the sort of thing that he would do, and never take credit for. Duncan's assault upon her heart was proving relentless.
Now, lutes at home have frets, while the one in her possession here did not, and thus the need for the bow that she'd been granted. That much she'd figured out right away. And after a little fiddling, Vicki had been able to figure out what notes were where and how to bow them. Tomorrow--after the joust, which now dominated the thoughts of all three in their little camp--she would set up a spot to busk again to earn coin for their daily bread. At least that was something constructive she could contribute as they tried to figure out a way to return home.
Fireflies came to life as the darkness descended, flitting through the trees so abundantly that they looked like fairy lights set up for a nighttime party. The crickets' tune was much the same as in her world. It was enough to make her want to play as much as needing to.
Vicki started with the pieces that usually impressed the most, and earned her largest tips. Like a Virgin. Dancing Queen. Sections of the Rohan Theme from The Lord of the Rings. And Into the West. That one, with its hauntingly beautiful melody, she usually saved for the end of Faire day, as it was apt to leave her feeling husked out with the emotions of the piece; sometimes she couldn't help shedding some tears, but it felt so damn good to play when she committed to it. Of course, this Westerosi version of a lute didn't do it the same justice as her violin, but still, the notes were true.
But this night, Vicki knew she daren't end on bittersweet or melancholy music. This night, her audience, a wise-well-beyond-his-years boy and a kind-hearted man fearing for his very life, deserved better of her. She'd recently introduced a new piece, and thus far, the Faire crowds had approved.
Galway Girl.
Dunk--who'd moved to watch closer by, by the end of ABBA's Super Trouper--recognized the lively melody right away. And actually grinned. Nodded along as she spun out the tune. And clapped when she concluded, so that she had to take a little bow. "Do you sing it, too," he asked.
"Oh...no. No." An answer that came by rote, from the half-dozen times or so she'd been asked to at the Faire. "Well, only in the shower," she laughed.
"Oh, I bet you do, too, Vicki..." This was the most animated he'd been since concluding his training session that afternoon.
"Rarely in front of other people, Duncan. I swear..."
There was a gleam in his eyes that had been missing for hours, and seeing its return made her heart leap a little. "You have a lovely speaking voice, V," he insisted, "And I know that means you can sing pretty well..."
"Duncan, I can't...please...I'm...I'm not prepared..."
"Neither am I, love, for what lies ahead." His truth stated so plainly made her shiver. "Please, Vicki. Please. Mercy for a man sentenced to death row?"
Her eyes went wide and she covered her mouth, shaking her head adamantly. "Don't say that Duncan...don't even joke!"
"Please," he asked softly, the plea in his eyes an unerring arrow to her heart, "Please, just this once. Just for me."
What choice did she have? Of course she would sing for him. Now. Tonight. And any other night he might ask. She was tumbling, and tumbling hard, and her fear of losing him after only a day felt like it might break her. Only later would she think it was the wishing stars that had done it--but for now, Vicki thought it was the sweetness of his heart, shining in his remarkable eyes.
Of course she sang. Head held high, eyes closed in concentration so as not to miss a note, acapella because she was shaking so hard she couldn't manage her bow. With a full heart and a full prayer, that whatever force had flung them them here, would also see him safely through tomorrow.
izzy806
germansingergirl
theartofmadeline
kaledo-art
romaincrisis
