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[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Just finished reading The Mystery Knight, and these here are non-spoiler FACTS:

As always, Dunk is The Man. He has THE BALLS.

Egg is the human embodiment of SASS.

These facts should surprise no one. And now I have to go back to The Hedge Knight and begin reading it all again.

[rosie-dear-rosie]

Touch-starved Duncan having to keep himself from screaming crying and throwing up at every casual, affectionate touch with Egg😭

They’re staying under a tree somewhere in the North and Egg snuggles closer for warmth and Dunk is just… overwhelmed. He immediately starts tearing up and can’t explain why but he clutches the boy as close to his chest as he can without hurting him.

Holding his tiny hand in a large crowd and feeling the warmth of being trusted

Obviously putting Egg on his shoulders to see over crowds, walls, hedges etc.

Ruffling where the boy would normally have hair

Planting a quick kiss on his forehead before he scampers off to pick up some goose eggs from the market etc.

[therealeggtargaryen5]

egg5. aegon, if you must.

prince of house targaryen, unfortunately.

currently serving as squire to ser duncan the tall. and he is tall enough for the both of us.

𓆩♕𓆪 about

— fourth son of prince maekar targaryen

— squire 🤺🤺

— future knight (dunk says we'll see)

— currently somewhere in westeros

— bald on purpose

— i have a horse.

— i know more about dragons than you do

— no, you may not ask why i'm called egg (i hate my brother aerion)

interests: dragons, dunk<33, tourneys, traveling, good knights, fishing, not being recognized, arguing with dunk, brother daeron (sometimes)

dislikes: aerion, people who are cruel for no reason, being called "your grace," aerion again, dunk saying "no," being sent to bed, people touching my hat, brother daeron (sometimes), ale, aerion

my inbox??? is open, so you may send a raven, i guess

if you know my father, no you don't.

[peatbogpirate]

Watched hotd S3 and saw a few comments about how Gwayne Hightower and Dunk would get on if they were in the same time period 🙂‍↕️

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

On to reading The Mystery Knight. Again, before I wanted to, but I need more Dunk, dammit...

SPOILERS ahead...

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Oh Book!Dunk, the beautiful, pragmatic, taciturn, honorable, irresistible man that you've grown into!

Hmmmm, me likey Dunky in his cups, savoring the taste of good wine and hippocras, then overhearing important conversations in the dark while he empties his bladder.

Tanselle and the Red Widow in the same dream?!!? Our Sweet Lad is growing up *tremulous sigh*.

If we didn't already guess that our Beloved Hedge Knight has a strong touch of destiny about him, we know it now. "You'd look a god in white..." Indeed he will!🥵🥵🥵I've already been jonesing for Lord Commander Ser Duncan. Do not tease me so, without providing photo evidence.

They are so gonna need a super charismatic actor to play Ser John the Fiddler. To not only charm Dunk and us, but to hold his own onscreen allure opposite Peter Claffey, whose even more grown-up, richly layered Ser Duncan is gonna be a potent force of nature. That's a pretty tall order *snickers* they best start searching soon (am guessing Ira already is).

Now, how about a hint of what the draft for the fourth novella might contain. I need to start imagining Dunk & Egg go North.

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

On to reading The Mystery Knight. Again, before I wanted to, but I need more Dunk, dammit...

SPOILERS ahead...

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Oh Book!Dunk, the beautiful, pragmatic, taciturn, honorable, irresistible man that you've grown into!

Hmmmm, me likey Dunky in his cups, savoring the taste of good wine and hippocras, then overhearing important conversations in the dark while he empties his bladder.

Tanselle and the Red Widow in the same dream?!!? Our Sweet Lad is growing up *tremulous sigh*.

If we didn't already guess that our Beloved Hedge Knight has a strong touch of destiny about him, we know it now. "You'd look a god in white..." Indeed he will!🥵🥵🥵I've already been jonesing for Lord Commander Ser Duncan. Do not tease me so, without providing photo evidence.

They are so gonna need a super charismatic actor to play Ser John the Fiddler. To not only charm Dunk and us, but to hold his own onscreen allure opposite Peter Claffey, whose even more grown-up, richly layered Ser Duncan is gonna be a potent force of nature. That's a pretty tall order *snickers* they best start searching soon (am guessing Ira already is).

Now, how about a hint of what the draft for the fourth novella might contain. I need to start imagining Dunk & Egg go North.

[azzzryel]

The beginning of a beautiful friendship (no.)

[ladyknightz]

i really do hate that show canon has attributed TPTWP & ASOIAF prophecy to daemon and rhaenyra now and not it being that, in the books, didn’t originate from daeron (the drunken) & egg— but we first hear about it with them. egg is daenerys’s great grandfather and her narrative mirror in a lot of ways, he’s the closest to her in terms of personality and beliefs despite what HOTD is pushing you to believe. the image of daenerys being bald is so important BECAUSE daeron believes its his little brother when he sees it. egg will eventually believe it is him, too. and he will become obsessed with the prophecy and die because of it.

but it’s daenerys, his great granddaughter, a girl just like him who rose up from the shadows of her abusive brother (viserys/aerion) and took charge of her own life just like he did. a girl who has his same heart for the smallfolk. a girl who has his same belief in magic. a girl who succeeded where he failed.

like, that means so so much more to me for it to be exclusive to egg because she is not only his direct descendant but his mirror in so many ways. with daemon, he’s not only so far removed from daenerys, look around him, he doesn’t have any bald people in his life 😭 like the prophecy isn’t believably gonna be significant to him at all like it was to daeron because he genuinely thought that was his little brother! and idk if any of this made sense but it’s just a fucking stupid writing decision, it steals so much agency from rhaenyra anyway.

[ser-duncan-the-best]

About Fae!Dunk AU: Considering what Egg had just suffered at Aerion's hands, and that Maekar didn't seem to care or believe him, he must have been terrified and trying not to fall asleep because he feared Aerion would wake him and do something even worse... And then Egg just sees in the dark the biggest, brightest blue eyes he'd ever seen. Then he feels himself being lifted by enormous arms he couldn't see, and then a booming voice spoke to him like a lullaby:

"Sleep, my sweet, little dragon. You are safe now."

Did Egg believe that the lack of sleep made him imagine things? Perhaps at first, but then he no longer wanted to "wake up" from that wonderful "dream".

(I FUCKING live for happy D&E AU like this, more, please!)

Lmao thank you soooo much!!!!

Dunk, due to being a nature fea and just overall very in touch with plant and animal life, probably calls all of his kids some kind of nickname. The animal being chosen by virtue of what he thinks fit them best-- in Egg's case being a little dragon hatchling. Honestly Dunk's heart just breaks whenever he sees any adult mistreat or neglect a child. He always loved being able to raise and nurture them, but with fairies being unable to produce biological offspring (they are 'born' via magic as full adults) he just kind of needs to resort to human kids to quell his baby fever.

He never manipulates the minds or senses of any of his charges of course. Dunk isn't cruel like the rest of his kind sometimes is. And yet the children always feel the safest when they are with him, Egg included. He just soothes and cooes down at him while they walk, laying him down on a soft bed of moss in a cabin within his forest.

Egg wakes up to a faceful of curious kids both older and younger than him, alongside his new caretaker, fae!Dunk.

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

yeah, don't mind me, I'm just stuck on thinking about young Dunk when we meet him in the aftermath of redgrass field. how within moments, we see him endeavoring an act of mercy, trying to put a painfully dying man out of misery. we know Dunk grew up in a merciless place, always hungry and desperate, scrabbling every day just to survive. so tell me whence came that impulse to be merciful in a life filled with privation and constant struggle? I can only see that it came from a huge, kind heart--which is pretty miraculous, when you think about it

[ser-duncan-the-best]

You.

You get me.

[ser-duncan-the-best]

So you know the common myth of fae stealing children?

Fae!Dunk who kidnaps all the kids he thinks are mistreated or neglected in order to raise them as his own. It started out as normal fae stuff when he quickly realised that he just couldn't separate a babe from their loving family and vice versa. Ergo, he's set his sights on the kids he knows probably won't be missed.

At this point he's got everything. A baby girl abandoned for a malformed hand, a Tully bastard boy that was pushed around, a farmer's son everyone thought one mouth too many, a pair of twins born from a whore in Fleabottom, the daughter of a noble who wanted to marry his child off to some old man....it's a wild mix of backstories and stations. All raised together in the deep forests people know belong to the fae, living as siblings. Dutifully looked after by their giant fae caretaker who loves each and every one of them more than their biological parents ever did.

Prince Maekar honestly didn't pay much mind to the tales of stolen children. The smallfolk as a superstitious bunch. Their stories barely fit for some mild entertainment or as a scary story to tell children before bed. Most of his family shares his opinion in that matter. Or- well, they used to share his opinion in that matter. Right up until his youngest son, Prince Aegon Targaryen, mysteriously vanished from his bed in the middle of the night.....

[ser-duncan-the-best]

Headcanon that Dunk is a hugger in his sleep but never really had anyone to hug (Rafe and Ser Arlan disliked that kind of body contact) so he never properly realised. This fact changes when Egg comes along and he finds himself waking to an armful of content squire more often than not.

[bucketsofsomethingorother]

Any au or canon divergent fanfic where Egg does not meet Dunk and attach to him like a barnacle on a ship (size accurate) is wrong to me. Dunk cannot escape the Egg Distribution System.

[cher000]

going crazy tbhhhh

[squireofthesevenkingdoms]

Ser Duncan the Tall and Brienne the Beauty :)))

[goldenhoneyedwine]

Wearing Dunk's clothes...

a lovely anon requested "feral dunk having something animalistic cracking out of him because reader has needed to wear his clothes for some reason"... content tags are size difference (obviouslyyyy), reader uses she/her pronouns, no physical description of reader's features, allusions to choking, mild smut, discussions of hand jobs, dunk is rough and feral but reader is exactly where she wants to be... thank you for reading <3

Laundry day. It was one of your favorite days, when your felt freshest and prettiest. At the end of laundry day all your clothes smelled of lavender soap and clean linen dried in the sun. Travelling with Dunk meant you were often dusty from the road and sweating in the sun. Not that you would trade it for anything, but sometimes you wanted to feel a little freshened up, not like a weary traveler.

Your dress was still damp from after the thorough scrubbing, so you laid it across the chair in the inn's room you were staying in for the night. Wearing Dunk's shirt suited you well enough while your dress dried. It practically fit you like a dress, loose and baggy, hanging down to the tops of your knees. The collar was wide, and kept shifting off to the side. Even after you adjusted it, it managed to slip off your shoulder. But you were only staying in the room to read, then to retire to bed shortly after. Your dress would be dry by morning, so you only needed to wear his shirt for the night.

Sitting in the bed, engrossed in your book, you hardly noticed Dunk's heavy steps down the hall, returning from feeding the horses one last time before nightfall. You only glanced up from your book when he entered the room and knocked his head on the top of the door frame.

"Arse." He muttered to himself, always controlling his language in the presence of you.

"Horses tucked in?" You ask, flipping a page, hardly looking up at Dunk.

Dunk doesn't answer you, but instead counters with a question. “What are you doin'?”

“Reading” you hold out your book.

“I can see that." he retorts "I meant, what are you wearin'?"

You set your book down to look at Dunk, still standing at the door, a flush rising up his neck, color blooming at the tops of his ears. "Your shirt." You pull the material sheepishly. "My dress is still drying. Don't worry you'll have it back on the morrow."

"-m not worried about that." Dunk breathes, crossing the room to stand at the edge of the bed.

You scoot closer to him, sitting cross legged at the edge of the mattress, and look up at Dunk.

“You look so” You watch Dunk’s chest heave, rising and falling with each labored breath “So small in my clothes. My pretty girl.” Dunk's callused hand rests on your cheek, cupping the whole side of your face in his palm. You gravitate to his warm touch, nuzzling into his hand, and Dunk's heart pounds at double speed inside his chest. He is thinking things an honorable knight should not be thinking at the moment. The way you look up at him, so far below, dwarfed by his height. And the way you're swimming in his shirt, the material pooling at your bare thighs. He pets the top of your head, running his hands over your incredibly soft hair. He wondered if this what you would look like choking on his cock. Would his view be the top of your head, or your wide eyes when you craned your neck up to look at him? His cock throbs in his pants. Even though he knows this train of thought leads down a dangerous road, he cannot seem to stop the observations.

Dunk had always enjoyed observing your figure, and the size difference between you two. He liked your petite hands, when he guided them across his cock, the way your slender fingers smeared precome down the length. The first time it happened, he finished in record time, covering your hand in ropes of spend. He liked when you got nervous and stepped behind him instinctually. It made him feel important - useful to you. He could shield you from any danger, blocking out anything bad so your view was only him. Dunk could protect you with his massive frame from prying eyes, and he liked to keep you only to himself anyways.

His hand travels lower, brushing across your jaw, then wrapping around your delicate neck. "Everythin' about you is so small." He murmurs, more to himself than you.

But still, you reply "Am not! It just seems like that in comparison to my giant travelling companion." Under his touch, he feels the muscles jumping in your throat when you speak, the pulse of a vein. Physically, it would be so easy to wrap his hands around your neck, crushing your windpipe. It would be like breaking a twig. But you trust him completely, letting him hold a firm presence over your neck, meaty fingers wrapping possessively around your trachea. And you're not afraid; you're teasing him.

You lay back on the bed, and Dunk follows. Hovering over you, blocking your view of the ceiling with his wide shoulders, so your only view above is him. Dunk palms your chest with his massive hand. Kneading, massaging your breast, his fingers desperately searching for your nipple. He is groping at your curves, handing you rougher than ever before. His hands scramble for purchase on your hips, arse, and pulling the small of your back so you arch up, flush against him. He handles you with a fervor you’ve never experienced before. And now you understand how much he had been restraining and holding back his full strength before. Your whole body hums with anticipation, a needy pulse gathering between your thighs, intensified every time his erection prods you.

Just the other day, he helped you comb your hair, and apologized profusely when his fingers worked out a knot. He didn’t want to cause you an ounce of pain. But now that same Dunk was no where to be found. He pins you into the bed, his body an immense weight on top of you. One of his hands holds both of your wrists, and grips them above your head. A ragged moan escapes Dunk; his pupils have widened so far that his eyes appear black instead of their usual bright blue. "My little one. My pretty girl. You can never wear my clothes again. I can't seem to help myself." He pleads. "Seven above. I don't want to hurt ya. My little lady. Don’t know how you’re gonna take it, but ya always do.”

His cock is leaking into his pants, the ones you had just washed. You can feel the dampness as his weight blankets you. But you don't mind. Laundry day would come next week.

"It's okay, Dunk. I'm not afraid." You kiss his warm lips softly. "I trust you." And whatever self control Dunk had before, melts away, like snow in summer.

[ser-duncan-the-best]

Hii ! I loved your fic about brainwashed Dunk & Baelor! Would you be interested in doing a Dunk & Egg centered version? Where Egg is in danger and he manages to snap Dunk out of it?

Hello! I'm really sorry to say, but I don't really do requests and stuff like that T-T. I mostly write in bursts of inspiration, so it's not really a style that lends itself well to on-demand stuff. If I really really like an idea I may do a little smth, but that really isn't certain.

I do, however, have a cut scene from the og brainwashed!Dunk one shot that's all about the aftermath which is pretty Egg & Dunk centric, so I can offer you that under the cut!

The first thing he felt upon waking up was white hot pain. The second thing he felt was the unfamiliar feel of the bed he was lying on. Huh, weird. Dunk didn't remember getting any new bedsheets. Not to mention the stench of medicine and familiar drowsiness of milk of the poppy. Why had he gotten that? Last thing he remembered he was on his way to another tourney with Egg....And-- now that he noticed, was this a tent he was sleeping in? He blinked himself awake more, groaning as he sat up. The rims of his eyes felt red as though he had been crying, and his throat was hoarse and aching. The man instinctively wanted to get up and call for his squire, trying to see where he could have possibly gone, but found rope restraints tying him down to the bed. An instinctual kind of fear suddenly took hold in him. Why was he restrained? Why was he in an unfamiliar place? Bandits? Robbers? But why restrain him then? His head throbbed and he could barely sense of anything. He needed to find his squire. Egg- to make sure he was fine and ask what had happened.

The man tried to look around. It was a pretty tent, no doubt. Of a beautiful black fabric with red stitches. The floor was covered with furs and carpets so you wouldn't have to walk in mud as a heart burned to the side. His own bed stood firmly in the middle of the space- as if to allow others to move about and around him more easily. It did not look like the tent of a lowborn or poor criminal. But where was everyone? And most importantly, what happened?

The fact that someone attempted to bind Dunk to the bed did not soothe the man’s worries at all, the fact that the bit of rope used ripped and came undone easily when measured up against his strength did not either. He stumbled when he tried to get up, another migraine protesting the activity. The iron smell of blood clung to his nose, dried bits of crimson smeared against his hand when he brought it up. Like someone tried to clean it when it was fresh but couldn't get all of it.

The knight frowned, took a look around, and found the flap serving as the tent's exit soon enough. It threw open without any issue when his large frame pushed past it, though he had to duck to fit. His kit was nowhere to be seen, which meant that he did not have a weapon. Unfortunate, but Dunk hoped he could manage with his sheer strength and size or steal a sword and helmet somewhere. At least his own roughspun tunic remained firmly on his body, so no one had changed him.

Just what had transpired that got him here? And why did something tell him that he didn’t want to know?

There were footsteps to his left, multiple other abodes stretched out in a camp before him. Telse turned to find himself confronted with an array of knights and guards. Concern, confusion, fear were written all across their faces. It made Dunk uneasy. Countless pairs of eyes bore into him, but before the man could ask what the matter was and where they even were, a familiar voice sounded.

“Ser?” Egg asked, emerging from behind the wall of people. He worse a fine tunic befitting his status as prince, not the peasant clothes he usually wore. It did nothing to alleviate Dunk's confusion-- but it did everything to alleviate his worry. The boy seemed safe, and that was enough for him.

“Ser.” His squire repeated in an unsure tone. As though he was testing the waters, or poking an animal with a stick.

“Egg.” The man returned, staring at her. “What- What happened?”

It was as though a weight suddenly lifted; Egg breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re back.” He said in a wet and wavering voice, “You’re normal.”

“I’m normal?” Dunk asked, obviously confused. What could he--- But Egg only shook his head, slowly coming closer. “We need to tell Uncle Baelor. Do you- who are you?”

He looked at the younger like he’d grown a second head. “What kind of question-”

"Who are you loyal to?” His squire continued to ask, “Who am I?”

Dunk blinked. Egg was dead serious.

“You’re Egg- or, well, Aegon Targaryen technically, my squire. My name is Ser Duncan the Tall, I’m a knight. I- We’re loyal to your house? Why are you even asking-”

The boy tackled him in a hug so quickly that Dunk didn’t even have time to react, or to feather his fall, for that matter. He winced as they both collided with the dewy grass of the campsite, but was quickly distracted from the pain when he could feel the front of his gown growing wet.

Egg was crying. More specifically, he was crying tears of joy. “I knew it.” He said, “I knew they couldn’t- that you wouldn’t just fall to their tricks like that. I knew it, I-”

Oh. Oh. Another wave of pain shot through his skull, bringing with it flashes of memories and thoughts not his own and still his in the worst ways possible. Like a sickness that settled into his bones against his will which he couldn't shake off.

Telse blinked. Once, then twice. At least he understood why he had been crying now.