I need tiktokers to understand that ao3 has been home for the freaks (affectionate) ever since the day it was created. the entire site was created because “dark and fucked up fics” were banned and removed from other platforms, so us freaks came together and created a site for other freaks — a site where nothing is censored, a site with no algorithm, no capitalism, no ads, and again, absolutely no censorship.
this has been our house for decades. you newbies don’t come into our house and tell us how to arrange our furniture. either be nice and respect our house, or leave and build your own house elsewhere.
warnings canon typical violence, blood, animal death, mentions of nudity, men being men, dunk is so down bad during his pov it's ridiculous, dunk bathes reader, also i feel like this is so cliché and poorly written so heed my warning, lots of perspective hopping, no distinction on whether or not dunk and reader are together but they're hella touchy w one another
note this is so self-indulgent, i'm not gonna lie. i could write about dunk x witch!reader ALL DAYYYY i love the dynamic. also loosely inspired by the song heavy in your arms by f+tm !
Duncan swore the flowers and tree branches swayed in your direction every time you walked past them, their stamens and leaves drawn to you like you provided them sunlight. He supposed he was no better than the foliage, blue eyes always following your figure, soft adoration decorating his features. He watched silently, the whetstone and sword in his hands forgotten, as you sat by the fire heating water from the stream and stirred a number of herbs into the liquid. You had sent Egg on a mission to find some more by the creekbed, leaving the two of you alone for now.
“Is something the matter?” you asked, voice carrying with the smoke. Your glance met his.
Blinking at your words, Duncan straightened against the elm tree he was sitting under. “No. Nothin’s wrong,” he said, returning to sharpening his blade. His senses remained tuned to your person despite his effort to focus.
You smiled, tucking back a stray strand of hair from your face. “Would you like to try some when I am done?”
Duncan’s eyes flicked to you. He sniffed. “What is it?”
“It’s tea, Dunk, not a cauldron of poison,” you said pointedly, raising your eyebrows at him and almost laughing at his skepticism. “I promise I’m not out to harm you or Egg.”
“No, no, of course not,” he said with a shake of his head, setting his sword and whetstone at his feet. “Would’ve never assumed so.”
You hummed, still amused at the large man across from you, and moved the kettle away from the fire. Duncan watched your every motion, and you could see him eye the small bundle of rosemary, lavender, and catmint that was tied to your belt and went with you wherever you travelled. He had asked you about it once, only getting a simple answer of “It brings me protection and a peaceful mind.” Dunk didn’t really understand how herbs could bring someone “protection,” but he questioned you no further.
As he had spent time with you, he had grown accustomed to your routines and practices, even going as far as buying or collecting herbs and flower petals when he had noticed your stashes growing low. He had also taken a liking to your—and Egg’s—stories about the moon and the stars, and what they had to offer.
Kneeling on the soft ground, you lifted the pot, poured the steaming liquid over a tea filter, and into a small mug, muttering incantations as it filled. You repeated the step twice more before grabbing two cups (leaving behind the third for your child friend upon his return) and walking over to Duncan.
“Here. Wait for it to cool, and then you can drink,” you instructed, planting yourself next to him. Close enough to press your knee against his thigh, your shoulder brushing by his as you set the drinks down.
Birds chirped from somewhere up in the tree, the slight breeze in the air brushing along your face. It was silent for a few beats before Duncan asked, “Is there a reason for the tea?”
You shrugged, testing your luck and leaning a bit into his side before answering with a grin. “It tastes good.”
Duncan snorted, his previously tense stature relaxing. “I don’ know why I half expected you to say something like”—his voice lifted a few octaves to mimic yours—“‘It grants me the ability to breathe fire.’”
Eyebrows knitting, you swatted his shoulder and scoffed a laugh. “I’m taking offense to that. You make me sound ridiculous, Dunk.”
“You are ridiculous,” he replied, a cheeky grin spreading across his face, his leg pushing a little more against yours.
Butterflies erupted in your stomach at the gesture, warmth spreading across your cheeks. You leaned over and grabbed the mugs (disregarding the fact that they definitely had not cooled), shoving one into Duncan’s hands. You just about forgot how to breathe when his large palm nearly covered yours during the exchange. “Be quiet and drink your tea.”
Before Duncan had the chance to retaliate, Egg burst through the treeline, his breathing heavy as he skidded to a stop. “Ser! My lady!” He bent over to catch his breath.
Both alarmed at the squire’s urgency, you and Duncan rose to your feet, cups forgotten near the base of the elm.
“What happened?” you asked, rushing to him and immediately searching for signs of injury.
He batted your hands away as something else came from the trees, drawing three pairs of eyes to land on an approaching orange tabby cat.
“Look what I found!” Egg explained happily, bending to pet the feline that rubbed against his ankles lovingly. You could hear the vibrating purrs.
Duncan appeared at your side, frowning as he said, “Egg, you cannot just rush up like that, heaving without explanation.”
“I’m sorry, Ser,” Egg apologized half-heartedly, picking up the cat as he did. Excitement twinkled in his eyes as he looked up at you. “Can we keep it?”
“We’re going to be late!” Duncan called over his shoulder, giving Thunder a quick departing pat before turning to face you. A muscle in his jaw jumped.
“Stop being so grumpy,” you said, amused at his annoyance. “When you gotta go, you gotta go.”
Duncan sighed heavily, turning to the path which led to civilization and waving you off. “I’ll wait further down the trail.”
You rolled your eyes before shouting, “Egg! Hurry up back there!”
The soft pounding of feet followed seconds after, a small bald head zipping around a tree. Egg adjusted his trousers. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” He spotted Duncan walking away and added, “Wait for me!”
Letting out a laugh you reached a hand out, letting him drag you along to a now-awaiting Dunk just a few leagues away, his arms crossed over his broad chest, hair tousled from the wind. He was feigning his irritation, you just knew it. He could never be peeved by you or Egg. For very long, that is.
And, just as you had figured, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards when you and Egg met up with him.
As the three of you made your way into town, you holding Duncan’s arm so as to not get lost in the rowdy crowds that would come and go, you let him take the lead. His height was always coming with advantages, his ability to see over every one else being one of them.
“Has it started yet?” Egg said as Dunk shoved his way through the throng, your hand sliding down to his as the mass of people grew, your other encompassed by the squire.
You shook your head, trying to see over the sea of people. “I don’t believe so.”
After much muscling your way to the front (or rather Duncan muscling a path through), the three of you approached the barrier separating the audience from the joust. You let Egg stand in front of you, his enthusiasm rising like bread in a furnace.
“We made it!” he cried, grinning wide as he watched two knights begin to take their opposing positions.
Smiling down at the boy, you let his excitement mingle with your own, leaning closer to the hedge knight on your right, your hands still molded together. “Who’d you think is going to take this one?” you asked, glancing up.
Duncan hummed, his thumb brushing the back of your palm out of habit. “‘m not sure.”
Your eyebrows furrowed at his bleak answer. Normally he’d give you the backstory to whomever was in the ring, talking your ear off about who he’d rather enter a tournament against and why. “Something on your mind?” you asked.
“No,” he answered, gaze settling on the now-beginning joust ahead of him.
Not quite satisfied by his reply, your free hand searched for the bundle of herbs you kept at your hip, seeking out the conditioned comfort it gave you. However, with a frown, you found only your seax attached to your belt. Throat constricting, you recalled where you had left it; atop your folded cloak after Egg’s cat had discovered the feline-friendly plant amongst your collection and decided to inebriate its senses for a while.
“I’ll be back,” you hastily told the boys.
Egg didn’t seem to hear, but Duncan’s hand clung to yours as you attempted to turn away. “Where’re you going?”
His posture was tense, unwilling to let you out of his sight.
“Back to camp. I forgot something,” you said promptly, tugging back your arm.
Duncan let go, though you could see him squint with more questions and concern. You didn’t give him another chance to stall before spinning on your heel and disappearing into the swarm of people.
First you heard the wailing. The odd, strange yowling coming from the direction of camp. The unsettling sound pricked the hairs on the back of your neck, skin bursting into gooseflesh.
Drawing the seax at your hip, you inhaled sharply, the forest suddenly going quiet as realization hit. The cat.
Exploding into a run, the other worst possible scenarios filtered through your mind’s eye, flickering with each blink. The horses. Our stuff. You were scared of what you would find upon arrival.
As you neared the large elm you slowed, cautiously continuing with slow steps. You moved off the main trail, deciding to flank whomever might be invading the small area you had called home for the past few weeks. Male laughter echoed through the trees as you approached. While you were once familiar with thieves and bandits, you hadn’t faced any in quite awhile, one of the many privileges of traveling and keeping the company of a man.
Inhaling slowly, you tried to calm your racing heart, ears straining for any other sort of noise. More laughter and deep voices you did not recognize. You peered around a thick tree trunk, bracing yourself against the bark as you took in the sight before you.
Three men occupied your camp, kicking bags around and digging through anything that caught their eye. You spotted the horses still tied near the stream, seemingly untouched, though their ears were pinned to their heads, possibly spooked. Thank the Gods they’re okay. But as you continued to eye the men, wrestling with the choice of taking them head-on or running back in search of Duncan, your stare locked on the mangled orange tufts of fur near the elm’s roots. Your breath hitched. The small cat laid in a matted, bloody mess on your now-torn cloak.
Blinking back immediate tears, tongue turning to lead, you forced down the bile starting to rise, resisting the urge to spill the contents of this morning’s breakfast onto the soft dirt. Anger blurred the corners of your vision as your gaze fixed on a blond man as he took notice of the horses. He nudged another man who was going through a satchel of yours, gesturing to the brown steeds. The man just waved the other one off, satisfied with his (your) findings.
You mentally cursed, the option of retrieving Duncan going up in flames.
Gripping your blade tighter, you continued to stay within the shadows of the trees, moving at the pace which the man was leading. Just as he neared Thunder, trying to soothe the now-defensive temperament the horse displayed, you stepped out from behind the trees, remaining undiscovered by the other two dark-haired men who busied themselves with your belongings. With his back to you, you exhaled shakily and ignored the small voice that told you to flee, and grabbed a fistful of greasy yellow hair, yanking the man down. He managed a startled shout as you drove the seax into the side of his neck.
***
Duncan knew something was wrong. Very wrong. He didn’t know how to put the feeling into words, how to explain what was wrong, but he just knew he shouldn’t have let you go back to camp alone. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Let’s go,” he said gruffly, grabbing Egg under the armpits to lift him from his spot atop the railing. He nudged the young boy through the crowd, his eyes flickering for any sign of you.
“Why?” Egg asked, his voice laced with disappointment, though he did not protest. “It was just getting good.”
Ignoring his squire, Duncan continued on, rushing to get out of town. He knew the only way to calm his worry would be to see you well and in his care. Under his protection.
The trail to camp eventually appeared, and he told a troubled and confused Egg that “Something doesn’t feel right. Been gone for too long.” The boy went quiet right away, his face hardening with understanding. As young as he was, he wasn’t naive enough to miss the apparent cues and attention his oblivious caretakers gave one another.
“Almost there,” Dunk muttered, though he was more so assuring himself rather than Egg; they were going to reunite with you soon.
Nearly thirty paces away was when he heard your cry, and he could tell he wasn’t the only one who had recognized your voice, his squire taking off in a run despite his grunt of objection. He raced after, rushing into a scene he had only ever seen in the worst of his dreams.
***
You had torn the man’s left ear off in a desperate attempt to get his hands to loosen. Much to your dismay, the grasp he had on your windpipe only tightened in rage, his teeth bared in a strained scream. Bloodshot eyes glared down at you, drops of fresh blood landed on your face. “Bitch,” he seethed.
The weight of the man pressed harder as you managed to twist your head to the right, cheek scratching along the soil. A croaked gasp escaped your lips, eyes bulging as you frantically flared your arms in search of a rock, a branch, something to beat the person on top of you with. Your vision started to darken along the edges as you spotted two figures appear from the treeline.
Just as you fisted the ground, nails digging into hard ground, the man was flying off you, hurtling into the elm.
You heard a sickening thwack as you wheezed, gulping down great heaves of air and instinctively reaching for your neck.
A familiar, young voice called your name. Egg.
“My lady!” he said, stooping by your side and helping you sit up. “Are you alright?!”
With a dip of your chin, you rubbed the base of your collar bone, where the man’s palm had been dug into—a bruise most likely already starting to take shape. You looked around at the state of the camp before you.
The blond man was furthest away, a large puddle of blood surrounding his corpse, another across the fire pit, whose face was smashed in where you had repeatedly stabbed with your seax. It was now sticking out of his eye. And slumped against the side of the tree, the third, earless man, the back of his skull oozing blood from the force of your rescuers shove as he had half-thrown half-pinned him to the surface. The site was littered with upturned ground, astray belongings, and gore. Nearby, Thunder and Chestnut stamped their hooves.
“Move, boy,” a voice grunted, a large figure bending to your level. As Egg cleared out of the way, Duncan delicately cupped your head.
You leaned into his touch, eyes misting at the man who swept bloodied strands of hair from your face. “Dunk,” your voice coming out in a whisper as you sagged into his front, the fight instinct draining from your veins.
“I’m here,” he was nodding instantly, adjusting your person against him. You felt his arm under your knees, another around your middle, before he gently lifted you from the ground. He said something you couldn’t quite make out before you recognized that you were moving. Perhaps he had been talking to Egg rather than you.
Green blurred in your peripheral as you attempted to focus your vision, still torn between now and just a few minutes ago. You’re okay you’re okay you’re okay. With every disoriented blink you saw sprayed blood, tasted the metallic twang that lingered in your mouth thanks to the fresh cut on your lip. “Duncan,” you said again, though not truly registering your own voice.
Blue eyes found yours, brows furrowed with concern. Dunk held you a little tighter. “Just taking you to the stream. We need to clean you up.”
You nodded, cheek rubbing against the upper sleeve of his tunic. Red smeared with your motion. Blood everywhere. Gaze fixing on your limp hands resting in your lap, you rubbed at the grime coating your skin and nailbeds. You figured you looked absolutely insane, to say the least. Craning your neck over Duncan’s shoulder, you managed to make out the back of a fuzzy bald head. Egg. The dead cat.
Eyes flying wide, you squirmed in the knight’s grip, uttering “He can’t see…Shouldn’t see all of that.”
As you tried to push yourself out of Duncan’s arms—his hold on you tightening so as to not drop you—he asked, “What’s wrong? We’re nearly there, love.”
Under any other circumstance your heart would have skipped a beat at the pet name love, but as you continued to fight against the man cradling you, your heart constricted instead. “The cat. The cat’s there…It’s dead and I didn’t get to it in time and it’s mutilated and horrifying and I wasn’t there to save it the way I was there for the horses.” You breathed in shakily, hiccuping as fresh tears cleared paths on your dirtied cheeks. “Egg is looking at it.”
Coming to a halt, Duncan kicked off his footwear (but not before removing your own) and kneeled, shouting for the boy as he did. “‘t’s alright, my lady,” he said, trying to calm your growing hysteria. Reluctantly you peeled your eyes from the mess that had been camp, startled at the abrupt coolness that lapped at your shins. Duncan had been careful when he slid you into the creek, though he muttered a string of sorry’s when you sucked in a sharp breath at the frigid temperature. The cold water stunned any panic you stored. Footsteps sounded from behind and you glimpsed a mournful Egg handing your hedge knight something. You were going to have to talk to him later.
Duncan’s fingers fiddled with the lace of your dress, thus then exposing your thin chemise as fabric drooped. “Is this okay?” he asked quietly.
Swallowing thickly, you nodded and grabbed at the neckline. You pulled the garb down your torso and stepped out of it, tossing it sluggishly onto the bank. I’ll clean it later, you settled, nearly falling into the water with every movement. Now sitting on the bank, Duncan grabbed your arm to steady you, your hands autonomously finding his thighs for support. “Careful,” he said, helping you crouch between his knees.
With a shutter, you sat in the water, your chemise turning translucent as it soaked through. Streams of red stirred, the blood on your skin already washing away.
Duncan shifted behind you, opening his legs wider. Firm hands guided you to spin in his direction. His eyes were as blue as the water you sat in. “I’m going to dip you, alright? To wet your hair.”
“Alright,” you whispered, feeling him brace an arm under your torso once again. You let yourself be astounded at how easily he manoeuvred your body with little effort, plunging you in the most delicate way possible. Maybe once you had slept off today’s events, you could admire his strength in all its glory. But for now, you stayed in your melancholy quiet, letting the water cleanse your remorse away.
Hesitantly, Duncan began to thread his fingers through your wet hair, from roots to ends, before lifting you upright. As you returned to your previous position, you gazed vacantly at the bottom of the stream. You hedge knight then began to massage in the soap you used regularly, the scent of juniper and orchid bringing upon a sense of ease. Closing your eyes, you leaned into Duncan’s touch, sighing contently. The soap washed down your front, small bubbles foaming as it touched dirt or grime.
When Dunk lifted you from another dip, you tugged at your chemise. “This is filthy, too.”
Duncan stilled and licked his lips. “Do you want to take it off?” he questioned.
“If it is alright with you to do so,” you said timidly, avoiding his lingering gaze. The last thing you wanted to do was make him uncomfortable. “If…If not, I can finish up on my own.”
Shaking his head, Duncan stammered, “No, no it’s alright. I just didn’ want for you to feel as if you had to…Earlier.”
At his reassurance, you grabbed the hem of the chemise and—with his help—pulled it over your head in one swift motion, discarding it in the same direction your dress lay. Now completely bare, you shivered, naturally scooting closer to the warmth at your back.
A few heartbeats passed and you turned to look over your shoulder at the lack of movement or voice from the man behind you. “If it is making you uncomfortable, Ser Duncan-”
“No,” he interrupted, eyes fluttering. “I am not uncomfortable.”
***
He was such a fool. Duncan was already aware of that fact, however he cursed himself for allowing his behavior to suggest that you were making him uneasy, as if you were ever capable of that. He was sitting with the most ethereal woman in all of Westeros between his legs and he was making an idiot of himself.
“Then why are you still?” you asked, large eyes pooling up at him. Drops of water glistened on your skin, some sliding across your smooth back while others dribbled down your front. He had never been more jealous of something in his entire life.
“My apologies,” he uttered, his grip on the soap in his hand nearly crushing the bar. How he wished he could get high off the scent. Your scent. Maybe he’ll tell you that there’d been none left afterwards, that you needed to buy more, just for the sake of keeping it for himself. Reminding himself of why he even had your soap in the first place, Duncan lathered white into his hands before gently sweeping your hair to the side and beginning to wash your body.
You were tense for a split-second, which almost had Dunk pulling away, until you reclined into his hands, a whine blessing his ears. He pocketed that noise for later.
The air settled around the two of you, the noise of the creek filling the silence. Duncan used the opportunity to admire the smoothness of your skin under his touch, to marvel at the way the sunlight had your wet hair glistening like a halo atop your head. He was cautious as his hands traveled lower, though he forbade himself from going too close to your most sensitive areas. He was satisfied with simply kneading soap into your skin.
“What are we going to do about the cat?” you wondered aloud, so low Duncan thought he had imagined it.
Shifting on the rock he sat on—which was beginning to numb his arse—Dunk bit the inside of his cheek. He twirled a strand of your damp hair around a finger in contemplation. “There ain’t really anything to do.”
“I would like to bury it.”
You tilted slightingly, craning your head around Duncan, leaning across his leg and looking for his squire.
“I sent him to tend to the horses,” Duncan answered your wandering eyes. “And of course we can bury the cat.” He paused. “But I am going to burn the bodies.”
You straightened at the mention of the corpses. Dipped your chin in response.
Duncan hated the way your mood instantly turned sullen, hated even more the very reason he was seeing you bare like this was because you had been dirtied with blood and soil. Because he had failed to be there when you needed him most.
The water continued to lap at your collarbone and chest, removing any suds that remained. Duncan gave your shoulders a comforting squeeze. “You’re all clean, love.”
“Thank you,” you told him, though you made no effort to move or stand.
Rising to his feet, Dunk spotted Egg beginning to make his way back over, Chestnut and Thunder sauntering on either side. He waited until the boy tied them off before saying, “Fetch a clean tunic.” He spotted the way you frowned at his demanding tone and added, “Please.”
Egg nodded, turning on his heel and rushing back to the outskirts of camp. Duncan grimaced a bit at the thought of all the possibly horrid things Egg could see, but he told himself that his squire was a smart boy and that the clothes he would be looking for were on the far end of the bloodshed.
The boy returned quickly, a folded shirt in his hands. He gestured kindly at Egg as he took the piece of clothing, finding that there was also a pair of your white undergarments tucked inside. Duncan pocketed the bar of soap, turned back to you, and extended a hand.
***
“Thank you, Egg,” you said as he turned away, muttering something about waiting behind a tree until you were decent. His manner compelled a smile to spread across your lips.
Mentally bracing yourself to take Duncan’s hand, to let him pull you out of the water completely naked, you shuddered. It’s fine, you told yourself. Totally fine.
You reached and threaded your fingers with his, allowing the man to help you back onto land. The way his eyes completely avoided yours, the tips of his ears turning pink, made you giggle. See? Nothing to be worried about.
Your laugh caused Dunk to frown, his gaze snapping to meet yours, yet breaking away as if forgetting why he wasn’t looking in your direction.
“What’s wrong, Ser?” Humor evident in your voice. “Never seen a lady undressed?”
His cheeks bloomed a deep red, his mouth opening and closing as a fish does. He offered you the clothing, his chest swelling when your hand dragged across his.
Amused, you kissed your teeth. The man had just bathed you for crying out loud, though his persistent chivalry was welcome. “Don’t move,” you told him, peeking around his stature. “I’m using you as a shield.”
“From what?” he asked, utterly confused and scowling at the ground. “We are the only people here.”
“That you know of,” you corrected, still a bit shaken from your encounter earlier. Your hand found Dunk’s shoulder, using him for balance as you got your legs through the undergarments and shimmied them up your legs.
Duncan stepped a little closer. “Aye, but I’m here now.”
His words softened your worry, and you quickly shrugged on the blue shirt Egg had provided. It fell just mid-thigh. And it smelled of the soap that you had bought for Duncan this past spring, patchouli and bergamot wafting around you.
Now clothed—or decent, as Egg would put it—you raised a hand, guiding your hedge knight to look at you. His large palm came up to cover yours, calluses rough against your softness.
“Thank you for your protection, and for all you do,” you said, beyond grateful for both his and Egg’s kindness. Without another word you pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck. He melted into your embrace, his hold mirroring your own around your waist, lifting your feet from the ground ever so slightly. You smiled into his shoulder.
“Can I come out now?” Egg shouted from around a tree, a pair of eyes popping over the trunk.
Sliding down against Duncan’s front—and wishing you could slow down time to properly feel every groove of hard-earned muscle—you regarded Egg. “Yes! Sorry for making you wait!”
Sighing, the boy trudged forward, stopping just before you. His eyes welled. “What…What do we do?”
Understanding the context of which he was asking, you bent at the waist, taking his hands in your own. They were cold, much to your dismay. “Would you like to help me bury your cat? We can pick out a spot and some flowers to mark the burial place.”
Egg nodded, suddenly pulling you closer for a hug. You heard him sniffle and rubbed the back of his head soothingly. His sadness was something you had not looked forward to facing, a sense of guilt still lingering. “Where would you like the cat to rest?” you whispered to him.
As he drew back, he wiped a few stray tears that had fallen. “Preferably here, under the elm.”
“I think that’s a brilliant spot,” Dunk agreed beside you.
“I’m going to go look for some wild catmint to add to the flowers,” Egg said.
“It can be found near lavender, in sunny patches,” you informed with a strained smile. “And if you can’t find any, we can always purchase some at the market.”
“Yes, my lady.” Egg let go of your hand and started his search, shoulders hunched as he scoured the area around him.
While you watched him go, Duncan went and put on the laced boots he had discarded earlier, then stood to hold your dirty dress and chemise. He draped them over an arm, looking in your direction. “Perhaps it’s time we wandered off in search of another town.”
pairing: dunk x reader, raymun fossoway with a crush on reader
you've been travelling on the road with ser duncan and other knights. however, dunk accidentally gives raymun fossoway the wrong impression of your...arrangement. aka dunk accidentally implies you're his whore.
1.2k+ — minors dni.
cw: fem!reader, travelling companion!reader, no y/n, no smut but sexual tension and themes, raymun asks if you'll sleep with him (not in a creepy way he's a good lad and it's off page but he was definitely respectful) and quickly realizes there has been a Miscommunication
dunk sat by the camp fire, lost in thought. it was a quiet evening for the group — himself, egg, you, and a few knights and squires travelling the same direction. dunk could see egg a little further down the hill leading the horses to drink at the brook. his peace was disturbed by the sound of scuffling from the nearest tent. raymun fossoway stumbled out, hand to the side of his face. his eyes set on dunk.
"what the fuck did ya do that for?"
dunk looked around to be sure raymun was talking to him. raymun came closer to the fire and in it's light dunk could see he had a large red mark on his cheek.
"do what?" asked dunk.
"set me up like that," raymun said.
the tent flap rustled.
"if she's mad at me, she'll be furious with you. you'll be glad you're tall now. she slaps hard," raymun spoke but his words made no sense to dunk. "just tell 'er i meant no disrespect, right?"
raymun made a quick escape into the darkness just as you emerged from the tent. raymun was right: you looked angrier than dunk had ever seen you.
"what in the seven hells?" you demanded as you stormed over.
"what did i do?" he asked, hopelessly confused.
"just now. what did you say to raymund?"
"nothin'!"
he wanted to ask why you were angry, but even he knew asking a lady why she was mad was more like than not to make her more mad.
"dunk, what exactly did you say?"
***
dunk had just given egg the horses' reins and told him to take them to the stream. he sat down by raymun at the camp fire. raymun's eyes were on you, watching you busy about your chores a short distance away.
"it's strange, travelling with a woman," raymun spoke. "nice, but strange."
"don't i know it," dunk replied. "n'er paid much attention to my clothes. now she rubs something in it and makes it smell sweet. rosemary, i think."
"she's nice. and pretty."
"she is."
you finished what you were doing and entered the tent. raymund leaned in closer to dunk.
"so what exactly is the, uh, arrangement?" raymun asked.
"she's safer travelling with me and egg than on her own. and she keeps me from stinkin' too badly and cooks and does other things f'me."
"other things?"
dunk nodded without giving it much thought. "other things."
"like...what?" raymun asked.
dunk thought he sounded unusually interested but he didn't mind.
"you've been on the road. you can probably guess what needs tending to," he shrugged. "it helps her stay safe and it means i don't need to stop at inns along the way, not when i've got her to look after me."
if dunk was being honest, it was more than transactional. he liked having you travel with him and egg and he hoped you would continue to do so for a long time.
"tell you the truth, she does most everything for me," dunk said.
"anything you want?" asked raymun, looking surprised and a little in awe.
"well, you have to ask her, course. why? there something you want her to do for you?"
raymun looked embarassed.
"i...i wouldn't overstep, not when she's with you."
"she's free to do what she wants. if you want something, just ask her," dunk said.
"you...wouldn't mind?" raymun asked.
"course not."
"d'ya know what she might want in return?"
dunk shrugged. he didn't understand why raymun had so many questions.
"she'd probably do it as a favour. she's easy and happy enough to help. just ask her."
***
"...so see, all i said was if raymund wanted some cooking or clothes mended, or anything, he ought to just ask you and you'd like as not be happy to help," dunk finished explaining. "'m sorry if i shouldn't have said so, but 'course i told him he'd have to ask you—"
he looked up from the fire. he couldn't read your expression, but at least you didn't look furious any more.
"dunk. you realize now what raymun thought you meant, don't you?"
"...no?"
"dunk." you stared at him a long minute waiting for him to realize. he didn't. "dunk, you told raymun i was your whore."
"what?" he sputtered, nearly falling to one side. "no i didn'!"
"you told raymun that travelling with me is convenient because you don't have to stop at inns to find a whore since you've got one with you, that i do whatever you want, that you didn't mind if he lay with me, and that i'd probably lay with him for nothing because i'm easy to get into bed."
"i didn', i wouldn', i—" dunk sputtered. but the conversation replayed in his mind. how curious and nervous raymun was, how odd his questions and....oh. oh no. "seven hells."
dunk groaned and hid his face in his hands. his face burned hotter than it ever had in his life. he was the biggest fool in the seven kingdoms. absolutely thick-headed. he felt mortified he had embarrassed you like that. causing any question to your honour was enough to make him wish the ground would swallow him up, but even worse was the dirty thoughts it had put in his head. the ones that had already been there were bad enough: thinking about how nice you smelled (and made his clothes smell), how gentle and soft you were, how close you would sit to him at night, how much smaller you were than him, how like a wife you were when you looked after his things or scolded him when he was an idiot.
he couldn't help remembering all the times he'd dreamed about you naked. you bathing in a river and splashing him with water, calling him in. you lying naked beside him on warm furs.
the idea of him not needing to feel guilty for thinking of you that way, because you were his. his to do what he wanted with. learning what you liked and making sure to give it to you every time. not just keeping you safe but keeping you satisfied, too.
he dragged his hands down his face and closed his legs to hide that he was hard. utterly miserable, dunk forced himself to look at you.
"i know. i slapped him and he immediately started apologizing," you recalled.
"d'ya want to slap me?"
"yes, for being a fool, but i won't."
"'m sorry." he knelt down in front of you. he wanted to take your hand, but he didn't dare. "'m so sorry. i n'er meant to embarrass you."
the sight of ser duncan the tall kneeling for you and begging your forgiveness was enough to make any lady swoon. you'd have forgiven him anything in that moment and it was a struggle for you to pretend otherwise.
"i know. it's alright," you said softly.
"i'll do anything to make it up to you."
you paused, thinking. "dunk," you began. "have you...had any of the other men asking about our...arrangement."
my friend's discord server has a "proof of touch grass" channel where they post pics of them doing regular activities outdoors/in public. i think many online spaces could benefit from such a thing
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