A Lie Most Egregious
Overview: You're to be married on the morrow to a man so horrible, his wives never survive more than a year. A chance encounter with a kind and honorable man might just be the chance you need to escape.
TLDR: cracking dunk
a/n: I’ve been noticing authors getting comfy with physical descriptions for readers lately (the complete antithesis of the x reader community), so just to be clear, NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTIONS OF READER if one slipped through during editing, let me know
I’d also like to restate my growing need to bite this man
mdni 18+ for the following: virginity loss, sinking teeth into a fine man, unprotected p in v, finishing inside, fingering, maybe missed some let me know
wc: 6k (I am incapable of writing ficlets)
It was rare that he and Egg had enough coin to spend on a luxury like a roof over their heads. But Dunk had taken on some work from some local farmers a few nights past, and the copper they’d given him was just enough to buy a bed at the local inn. Good timing, too. The moment their horses were stabled, the sky was opening above them with a harsh downpour from the Gods.
The inn was nicer than most he typically saw. He’d heard from some locals that their Baron was quite generous with his coin and spared many of the villagers from harsh taxes. It made them a happier, more generous group of smallfolk than he usually met.
Their mead even seemed to be sweeter. Each sip warmed him from the inside, set a nice fuzz along the edges of his brain. So much so, that he hardly noticed the whispers surrounding the woman drinking at his table. The harsh looks they shot her as she spoke with Egg and clung to Dunk.
He was too pleased with himself to have caught the eye of such a beautiful woman that he could pay no mind to the whispers surrounding her.
You blame your father for what you’re doing now. And on the morrow, after you’ve thoroughly debased yourself, you will be sure to let him know that you feel that way.
Pulling up the hood of your cloak, you duck your face against the harsh rains. Mud squishes beneath your boots as you run up the road toward the local tavern. The people there might likely recognize you. But they won’t be the type to care so much that they’ll fetch your father.
You only need one night of debauchery. After that, all will be well. If the Gods are good. They haven’t favored you thus far, but perhaps your luck is bound to change.
The inn’s windows are aglow with light, the crooning song of a bard coming from within. You rush toward the door, pushing it open as you shake rain from your cloak.
Pushing your hood back, you smile to yourself as you take in the revelry of the night. You’ve heard from many a weary traveler that your village is far more joyous than most. You have Baron Merryweather to thank for that. And if he has his way, in a week's time, they will be thanking you as well.
Shaking the horrid thoughts away, you step further into the tavern, scanning the crowd. You’re hoping to find an unfamiliar face. Or you’d settle for one you know, but who’s drunk enough to forget your duties.
While you search, you fail to look ahead. With a pained huff, you find your path cut short as you ram into a solid wall of a man. “Oh,” you groan, clutching your nose as it throbs. Gods be good, how firm was this man that it hurt so much?
With a harsh glare, you cut your eyes toward him and find whatever venom you were going to spew gone. Your eyes trace over him top to tail, warmth stirring within you. He’s tall, taller than most men you’ve met. With thighs thick as a tree trunk and arms you wouldn’t mind sinking your teeth into.
Not only is he thick as a castle wall, but he’s also staring at you with adorably sheepish eyes. He looks sweet, if not a little dumb, and absolutely someone who wouldn’t know your name.
“Apologies Ser. I don’t know how I could have missed a man quite so… large,” you purr, hardly hiding the attraction in your voice.
Your brows raise as he continues to stare at you. His lips part, cheeks flushing, but little comes out. Your eyes drop to the boy at his legs. He offers you an embarrassed smile before kicking the man in the shins.
“Egg,” he hisses, finally broken from his stupor as he glares at the boy. Egg gestures toward you and the giant’s eyes find yours again. “Oh, pardon, m’lady.”
“No pardon necessary, the fault is mine. Perhaps I might make it up to you with an ale?” You were laying it on thick. Too thick for any other man. But he seemed easily distracted by a pretty smile.
“Oh,” he stuttered over his words and shook his head. “That won’t be needed- Egg! You kick me again and I’ll clout your ear,” he scowled down at the boy and you bit back a laugh.
“An ale would be nice, madam,” the boy directed toward you.
“You can’t even finish a pint,” the man pointed out, still glaring at him.
“It’s really my pleasure, Ser…” you trail off, smiling softly.
“Dunk,” he tells you, narrowly dodging another kick. “Duncan,” he quickly corrects, grabbing the boy by his neck and redirecting him toward their table. “Off with you,” he growls, pushing him away.
“Your brother?” You ask, stepping further into the tavern until Dunk has no choice but to follow you.
“Squire,” he corrects with a grumble.
“You’re a proper knight?” You ask, eying him and seeing no sword nor shield.
“A, uh, hedge knight,” he corrects, almost seeming ashamed.
“I meant no offense, Ser. A hedge knight is a knight, the same as all the others. I only meant to see if you fight under a Lord’s banners?”
More specifically, how much does he know about Baron Merryweather?
“No lord, m'lady, just me and Egg.”
You hum, grabbing a mug for him and yourself. He takes it from you and your eyes widen at just how small it looks in his palm. For once, you were right; it seemed the Gods were looking favorably upon you tonight.
“Interesting. Most men who pass through are sellswords or farmers. We rarely get the virtuous and honorable. Are you an honorable man, Ser?”
Dunk frowned into his cup before nodding. He lifted his eyes to yours, puffing his chest more confidently. “Aye, I believe so. I try to be, at least.”
“Hm,” you hum into your mug. “Even trying seems to be a rare quality these days.” Perhaps you’re being too obvious. But Dunk seems to have already indulged in his cups. He’s less likely to look into each vague query of yours.
You move away from the bar and Dunk follows you to a table. Taking a seat on the bench, you let out a little laugh as Dunk plops down right beside you. He seems a mite tipsy and unaware of proper decorum. Something that would likely work in your favor. Once you’d gotten a few cups deep yourself and actually worked up the nerve to ask him to bed you, of course.
“What brings you here?” You ask him, nails drumming along the table as you decide how to go about this. It is of the utmost importance that you are bedded by dawn. Perhaps even letting him spill inside if you feel so desperate.
But you don’t feel right just outright asking the man to fuck you. That seems far too crass. And far too bold considering how incredibly sober you still are.
Intent on rectifying that, you tip your head back, letting the ale pour down your throat. Dunk's eyes are wide as he watches you, an impressed gleam in them.
“Do you mind, Ser?” You ask, passing him your empty cup. Dunk shakes his head and gets to his feet, heading toward the bar. A warmth has begun to settle in you when the door to the tavern bursts open.
Two guards pass through, head swiveling about with too much intent to be coincidence. Cursing, you jump to your feet, racing toward the bar. “Do you have a room?” You ask Dunk, ignoring how he jumps at your sudden presence.
“Aye, I’m sharing it with the boy,” he tells you, brows furrowed.
You whip toward the innkeep and she shoots you a glare. “This is a horrid idea, girl.”
You slap a coin harshly on the counter. “A room, woman,” you grit out. She shakes her head and passes you a key. No sooner is it in your hand are you grabbing Dunk's sleeve and dragging him toward the stairs.
“What’s going on?” He demands. You ignore him, using his body to block your face from the guards as you swipe a pitcher of ale from a passing table.
“Nothing,” you turn to him with a frazzled smile. “But it’s so loud down here. Wouldn’t you like to speak somewhere a little quieter?”
Dunk doesn’t seem to catch on to your insinuation as he shakes his head. “Gods,” you groan, hauling his thick body up the stairs behind you. “Just come along, Ser. I have plans for you.”
“Plans? Pardon, m’lady, but I-“
“Hush,” you chide, tugging him into the room and firmly shutting the door behind him. Dunk stumbles, the mead in his hand sloshing over the edge.
“I’m afraid I’ve been rather forward, Ser.” You undo your cloak and toss it on the chair beside the fireplace. “But I wondered how you might feel about bedding me?”
“B- bedding?” Dunk sputtered over your proposition. And you probably should have softened such a blunt approach. But panic is encroaching on your senses and you can only think of the guards below you both who might soon knock upon doors to oust you.
Slowly, you make your way toward him. He doesn’t back away, but he still seems hesitant. You slip your hand around his, easing the ale from his grip and downing the rest before putting the jug aside. He watches you with wide eyes as you tug lightly at the laces of your dress.
“Well?”
Dunk's eyes are trained on your breasts, pale cheeks flushed as he swallows, snapping his gaze back to yours. “What?”
You laugh a little at his nerves, taking his hands in your own and guiding them to your bodice. “Do you find me desirable, Ser?”
“Yes,” he whispers. You smile coyly at him and tug at his hold, urging him to finish what you started.
His fingers tremble slightly as they tug at the laces of your dress, eyes trained on your breasts. The palm of his hand is large enough to cup them whole. You try to keep your mind from straying to what else of him might be so large, but it is truly the only thing in your head.
You knew that losing your maidenhead would be a mite uncomfortable. But you imagine it might be worse with a man so large.
“You’re sure about this, m’lady?”
“Hm?” Your eyes snap back up to Dunk and you frown. “Of course.”
“It’s just, you seem… nervous, I suppose.”
“Well, you must admit, you are quite large. Your size would be daunting to any woman.” Dunk frowns and you reach up to take his hands. The very ones he seems to have forgotten are resting on your breasts.
“I am entirely sure about this, Ser, relax.” Odd, that you’re the one calming the knight, considering you’re the one about to be defiled. No matter, a shy man is all the better than a cruel one.
You guide his hands back to your dress, reaching for his breeches. He gives a firm nod before undoing your laces and tugging the collar of your dress down. You swallow thickly, pulling at his pants and immediately freezing at what rests between them.
“Gods,” you mutter. Dunk dips his head, claiming your lips as he tugs the sleeves from your arms. You’re grateful for the distraction, not interested in lingering long on the sheer girth of what’s supposed to fit within you.
How do whores do this? You wonder.
His calloused hands smooth along the planes of your body, squeezing at your waist before your dress is pooling on the floor. You hold tight to his arms, stepping free from it as you lead him toward the bed.
Dunk’s knees hit the edge and he sits obediently, hands smoothing around your hips as he stares up at you. He seems to be fine doing things on your terms, which makes it easier but even more overwhelming.
“I must admit, I have not done this often.”
“No,” he grins a little, hands dropping to your thighs. You jolt at how he squeezes, warmth filling you. With such grace you hardly notice, Dunk urges you forward, leading you until you’re sitting on his lap. “You’re quite bold, then.”
“I try to be,” you offer. “So,” you’re not sure there’s any good way to ask how you’re meant to begin. Dunk seems to understand your hesitation well enough.
And for a man with comments about your own boldness, he certainly doesn’t hesitate to dip his hand between your legs. “Oh,” your hips jolt forward at the rough feel of his fingers gliding through your slick. You bite your lip, afraid of what embarrassing sounds might escape you.
“‘Nough of that,” Dunk scolds, hand coming up to tug your lip from between your teeth. His fingers delve a little deeper this time, a shallow dip into your opening that does have a strange sound escaping you. He seems to like it well enough, laughing slightly as he kisses you again.
You're grateful for the distraction from what he's doing to you. Such quick enjoyment is surprising. The stories you’ve heard from others all seem to revolve around men being fast and the women with nothing but newfound soreness between their thighs.
“Ser,” you pull back, slightly breathless as you smile. “Would you mind if I…” your hands prod at his shoulders and he nods, dropping back against the pillows. You plant your hands on his chest, shifting higher up his legs as you get yourself comfortable.
Dunk waits until you’re still, head dropping to kiss him once more, to slowly insert one thick finger inside of you. It’s enough to still you completely, breath hitched as you get used to the foreign sensation. It’s almost like a pressure, one move away from simply combusting. Dunk doesn’t note your hesitation very well, alcohol still thick on his tongue as he kisses you.
You wish you’d been able to get another ale before the guards had come in. Perhaps with a proper buzz about your brain, you’d be able to think a little less.
Your hips move in tandem with his hand, slowly accustoming yourself to the rhythm as you begin to grow used to the feeling. But just as soon as it feels less intrusive, he brings his thumb up to your core, swiping clumsy circles over your bundle of nerves.
“Gods,” you gasp against his lips, hips jolting roughly.
“This alright?” He mutters, his free hand swiping your hair from your shoulder as he kisses a messy line down your neck.
“Mm” you release a high pitched hum and simply nod. “Very good,” you squeak, legs beginning to tremble slightly at the effort it takes to hold yourself up.
Something begins to build inside you. It ebbs and flows, building upon that pressure in your core. Your hips chase the feeling, teeth bite your lip bloody as you suck in a sharp breath. But just as it begins to crest, Dunk pulls his hand away and you're left cold.
“Ser,” you gasp, surprising yourself with your own irritation.
“Sorry,” he mutters, frowning slightly. “You just don’t look very comfortable.”
“Well,” you take in the strain on your hips and reluctantly nod. “Perhaps not.”
“Here,” the ease with which Dunk flips you over is staggering. But you shouldn’t expect anything less from such a big man. He kneels between your legs, now, large hands keeping your thighs spread as he positions himself between them.
This is it, then. The moment you finally become a true woman.
Perhaps you’re less prepared than you thought. Your eyes clench shut as you suck in a deep breath, fists balling into the sheets.
Dunk pauses, hands stilling along your legs. You wait for the inevitable, the sharp pain between your legs or the feeling of being split in two. But it doesn’t come. Peaking an eye open, you see Dunk staring down at you with a furrow in his brow.
“Are you… Are you a maiden, m’lady?” Your lips part, no clever lie coming in time. Dunk jerks back like he’s been burned. He throws himself down on the end of the bed, hastily grabbing a pillow and attempting to cover his lap. And the sword that rests between those legs.
“Ser-“
“You misled me, lady. I didn’t think you to be untouched.”
With a huff, you sit up, settling yourself beside him and trying to ignore just how naked the pair of you are. “I did not intend to trick you, Ser. It’s just- The men in the village and those that pass through it are not good men. I saw you and there was something about you that made me think you were the last good man I would see for a long time."
You turn to him, cupping his cheek and tilting his head so he might meet your eye. “I didn’t intend to lie, sweet knight. I just thought you might be the right sort of man to help me understand what it means to be a woman. You seem to have a kind enough touch. I did not think I would fear pain at your hands.”
He remains silent for a moment before finally lifting his blue eyes to meet your own. “Do you? Fear pain?”
“No,” you tell him softly. Slowly, you reach over and tug at the pillow in his lap. It slips from his grip easily, and you mount his legs, taking its place. “I do not fear you, sweet knight. Do you fear me?”
Dunk lets out a little scoff and shakes his head. You reach for his wrists and plant them low on your hips. “Then touch me again, Dunk. Show me what a proper lover is.”
His brows furrow and you nod your head encouragingly. His hands hover over you before you kiss him again, hoping to ease his worries. Slowly, they drop back to your hips, squeezing, before he’s tugging you closer.
Your breath hitches are your core catches along the tip of his cock. His own hips jolt at the noise, thick fingers tightening around your curves until you think the imprints of him might haunt you for the next few nights. Chasing the pleasurable feeling of what you hadn’t been able to finish before, you grind your hips down harder, canting them at an angle so you can drag along more of him.
He lets out a sweet-sounding groan, the husky noise like oil to the flames of your lust. “I want you to feel good,” he whispers. Some part of you warms at the care in his voice. The earnest truth he holds within his blue eyes.
The Gods had blessed you tonight. With a true knight and a good man. “Alright,” you nod, pulling back and admiring the glossy sheen along his lip from how thoroughly he’s kissed you. “Show me.”
Dunk needs no further encouragement. His arms tighten under your thighs and you let out a short squeal as he stands, carrying you as if you were hardly burdensome at all. He kneels on the bed, lowering you carefully and keeping your legs hooked around his hips. You keep your eyes on his, not wanting to look down and see what would happen.
Despite hardly knowing him, you do trust him. You trust that he’ll do his best to ease the discomfort. Besides, your pleasure has been taunted and ripped away from you enough that you’re painfully needy for him to just be inside you.
Dunk’s eyes dart up to yours once more before he slowly begins to ease his way inside you. It does sting; it’s not entirely pleasant as he has to practically bully himself within untouched walls. “Are you alright?” He asks, pulling back like he might try to leave.
“Please,” you tighten your legs around him, hands drifting up to his shoulders as you nod. “Don’t stop,” it’s an effort to keep the grimace off your face as he nods, slowly continuing. But you cannot take this agonizing wait much longer, the sting has begun to subside. The pain makes way for something more pleasurable. And your patience snaps.
You buck your hips up, aiding him and he lets out a low noise that has shivers racing along your spine. “Don’t,” he mutters. His head dips between his shoulders and he lets out a shaky sigh. “Bloody hell, you’re tight.”
You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you, hands tracing their way from his well-rounded shoulders up to his jaw. “Please, Dunk,” you abandon the formalities of his knightly title, finally, and tilt your hips once more. There is a heavy pressure inside of you, building and mounting the longer he sits within you. You cannot take it. You need something to make this infuriating pressure release.
Dunk nods and begins moving his hips. Slowly at first, before the tight pull of your walls is too enchanting for him to resist. You toss your head back, teeth gritted as a low moan escapes you while the sting completely disappears.
There is nothing left of your mind. Nothing left of you but this heavy feeling of him inside you. This even heavier feeling of his weight atop yours, pressing you further into the mattress as his rough hands tilt your pelvis up toward him.
You can feel the pleasure growing, like a tingle along your tongue, trickling down your throat and blooming across every nerve as you begin to match his movements. Unpracticed hips, clumsy as they try to chase the mounting release he had denied you not so long ago.
“Gods,” he grunts low in your ear, soft sounds that you hadn’t expected from such a large man. But they only serve to entice you further. Your nails dig into his skin as his hands greedily trace over your body. Enjoying every inch you allow him access to.
When the pleasure begins to grow into something overwhelming, an alien feeling you had not encountered before, you search for something to sink your teeth into. Something to ease some of the pressure. His arm is particularly enticing as you lean forward, digging the blunt ends of your teeth into him as the pressure finally explodes.
Pleasure, blinding and so unfamiliar, bursts through your body. It numbs the tips of your toes and lingers until you feel like every nerve is alive with only the feeling of him. At the tight pulse of your walls, his hips begin to lose their rhythm, his grunts and groans growing breathier, heavier in your ear as he reaches his own peak. And when you begin to feel him pull away, the entire purpose of your trip to the inn returns to you with shocking clarity.
Your feet lock around his hips, your walls tighten until you can feel the warmth of him spill inside you, filling you completely before spilling between your legs and messing the sheets. Dunk's arms tighten around you as he falls onto his side. You let out a shuddering breath, temple damp with sweat as he rolls you with him.
He remains inside you a while longer, a feeling you welcome as your core still aches with this new pleasure you doubt you will ever taste so strongly again.
“That…” you shake your head, trailing off as you bury your face in his chest. You have no words and no proper amount of thanks that will ever show him just how grateful you are to him. How grateful you are for what freedom he has provided you tonight. Even if he does not know.
A clumsy hand brushes some hair from your cheek and you glance back up at him. He wears a sheepish smile, his other palm smoothing along the side of your waist. “Are you alright? Do you hurt much?”
A smile pulls at your lips, unbidden, and you shake your head. “You were perfect, my sweet knight,” you promise, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Just as I knew you would be.”
Dunk’s already flushed face seems to burn brighter as he pulls you closer. You should have known he would not be like another man. He would not simply kick you from his bed once the deed was done. But you are still filled with warmth as you wrap your arms around him in turn.
Your head lay on his chest for a few hours more, until you could see the beginnings of morning light starting to seep through the clouds. He has long since slept, his breathing deep and even beneath you. But you could not, deciding to instead enjoy the last few hours of your life before you return home.
Sadly, you can delay no further. You attempt to slip from Dunk’s hold, but the man is twice as thick as a castle wall. The weight of his arm across you proves a valiant foe as you writhe and turn, trying to escape without waking him up. By the time you manage, you can already hear the songbirds greeting one another with their morning tune.
“Gods,” you hiss, rushing through the room and hastily recollecting your clothes. You draw your dress on, fingers rapidly doing up the laces, before tossing on your cloak. You run to the door and gingerly pull it open before pausing. You turn and give Dunk one last look, the sweet set of his face and his hair mussed from sleep.
“Farewell, sweet knight,” you whisper, before slipping back into the shadows.
“Ser! Ser!”
Dunk jolts up, head pounding from too much ale the night before. And stress.
That wild woman, dragging him up to her rooms like some barbarian. He can’t say he didn’t enjoy himself. But rarely does he meet a woman so bold.
He runs a hand through his hair, glancing around the room and frowning. You’ve gone, your dress and cloak gone with you. The spot you had been lying is cold beside him. It’s not as if he had expected you to stay to break your fast. But he still can’t help the disappointment that sours his mood.
Egg pounds on the door some more and Dunk groans, tugging on his pants, and throwing it open. “What?” he snaps.
Egg stands before him, arms crossed and face unimpressed. “You told me to wake you at dawn. I have tried all morning, and you’ve just lain in bed like a lump. Let’s go, Ser!”
Egg races back down the stairs and Dunk scoffs. The boy seems to forget he’s meant to be Dunk’s squire, not the other way around. Dunk can’t even count how many times Ser Arlan left him waiting in the stables after a night with a woman. At least Egg had his own room to rest in last night.
With a low grumble, Dunk dresses and heads outside. Egg is already waiting with the horses, holding the reins as he huffs and puffs at Dunk’s slow pace. His stomach is full of nothing but ale and whatever pitiful meal he ate last night. He doubts they’ll be making much progress getting through the Reach today.
“Alright, boy,” he grumbles. “On with ya.” Egg sucks in a sharp breath and nods, proudly leading the horses forward. Dunk might try to take Thunder from him, but the damnable horse seems to like the squire better than he does his own master.
Dunk and Egg are almost through the village when they hear it. The loud screech of a woman and then a man screaming, “You whore!”
Dunk pauses, hand on the hilt of his sword as he turns toward the noise. A fine enough stone house, just behind him, hosts a fat, old man on the porch. His face is burning red, eyes near bulging from his skull as he drags a woman by her hair from the house. She lets out a pained noise as he tosses her into the mud.
Her head lifts, eyes vengeful and full of fury. Dunk startles, pulling back when he realizes he recognizes her. “Ser,” Egg starts. “Isn’t that the lady from last night?”
“It is,” Dunk mutters, already moving toward you. Egg lingers behind him, keeping the horses calm as the man continues to shout.
“You have ruined everything! All that I’ve done for you-”
“For you, father,” you spat back at him. He lifts his hand, the back of his palm cracking against your cheek so harshly that you fall back to the mud.
“That’s enough, sir,” Dunk calls, racing over toward you. Your head lifts, eyes wide in surprise.
“Ser?” You mutter.
“I will thank you to stay out of this,” your father hisses at Dunk. Eyeing him disdainfully. “This is a matter between me and my whore of a daughter.”
“Yes, your whore of a daughter,” you laugh, taking the hand that Dunk holds out to you and getting to your feet. You stumble, the hem of your dress weighed down by the thick layer of mud coating you. “Exactly what I would have been if I’d let you marry me to the baron!”
“He would have saved us!” Your father snaps, lifting his hand again.
Dunk steps between the two of you and the old man falters. “I don’t know what’s going on here-”
“No, you don’t!” Your father snaps, leaning around Dunk to glare at you.
“But,” Dunk continues, voice firm as he glares down at the old man. “You hit her again and I’ll take your hand,” he threatens. You let out a small gasp behind him as color drains from your father.
“How about you take her?” Your father hisses. “Since you seem to enjoy her so badly.” He tosses a bag at your feet and storms back into his home, the door slamming behind him. Dunk turns toward you, immediately, hands hovering over you as he takes in the steadily growing welt on your face.
“Are you alright?”
You grimace and spit blood into the mud, rubbing your jaw. “Fine enough. I believe you have saved me once again, Ser. I’m in your debt.”
Dunk shakes his head, bending to pick up the bag and hand it to you. You mutter a quiet thanks, eyes trained on the ground as you wad up the material in your hands. “What’s happened?” He asks.
You suck in a sharp breath and offer him a cold smile. “Would you mind escorting me from town? I’ll tell you on the way.” He frowns, confused by the request, but nods, offering you his arm as you struggle in your mud-heavy skirt.
“Here, lady,” he offers, taking the bag from you so you might be able to lift your skirts and walk easier. You send him an appreciative smile, not speaking until you’re back with the horses and Egg.
“Where to start,” you mutter to yourself, ignoring the odd look Dunk and Egg exchange behind your back. “The baron that rules this land is generous in all ways except in kindness,” you tell him, glancing over your shoulder to ensure you hold his attention.
“He has gone through five young wives in the past two years, none of them lasting long enough to bear him his heir. My father sold my hand to him for a rather sizeable dowry. I did not intend to die at the hands of that man. I apologize, Ser, but when you and I…”
You trail off, shooting him a suggestive look. “Fucked?” Dunk offers.
“Gods above,” your eyes shoot wide and you glance over at Egg. “I was trying to spare the child, man.”
“Pardon, ma’am, but I rarely ever get a room to myself. I’m no fool,” Egg tells you with a knowing look.
Your brow furrows and you shake your head. “Fine, then. Yes, when we lay together, it was to sully my reputation and virtue. To spoil myself before the baron took me as his sixth wife.” You glance up through your lashes, lips falling into something apologetic. “I am sorry, Ser. I do not mean to make you feel used or lied to. Truly, it was the only way to escape this hellish village.”
Dunk glances down at his boots, letting out a low sigh. Being lied to is never a grand feeling, but he is not hurt nor offended. Merely upset with himself that he failed to see you were hiding something. Perhaps he could have helped you without you having to sully yourself with him.
“Where will you go now?” Egg asks.
You cast your eyes back to Dunk before shaking your head. “I have nowhere to go. I doubt my father even put enough coin in that bag to buy myself a meal at the next inn.”
Egg glances between you and Dunk before smiling. “You should travel with us, ma’am.”
“Egg,” Dunk hisses, glaring at the boy.
You offer him a sorry smile. “I do not want to impose on either of your travels, lad. But thank you. No, I suppose I will just have to wander,” you briefly glance toward Dunk before letting out a weary sigh. “Trade what I can for food and shelter. Trade myself if I have to. One must do all they can to survive-”
“You should travel with us,” Dunk interrupts, the guilt of your musings lying heavy on his shoulders. He does not enjoy the idea of you having to sell yourself on the side of the road for a measly piece of bread.
You clap your hands together, eagerly smiling up at him. “Truly, Ser?” With a low huff and a slight grimace, he nods, seeing no other choice in the matter. Not with the way you and his impish squire have backed him into such an uncomfortable corner.
“I swear, I will not be a burden upon you. Except…” you laugh slightly and offer a small smile. “I do not know how to build a fire. Or fish or hunt. And most skills you need for this life, I lack. But, if you teach me, I swear that it will be like I am not even here!”
Dunk lets out a low groan, rubbing his brows as he shakes his head. You and Egg both watch him expectantly before he finally lifts his gaze to yours. You trip over the hem of your skirt, struggling through the mud in your slippers.
“Why don’t you sit on Thunder? So your legs don’t tire?” He offers, holding his hand out to you.
“Oh, thank you, you are too kind to me, truly.”
“Nonsense,” he mutters, taking your waist in his hands and helping you onto the horse.
“Ser, my legs are growing quite tired-”
“Good,” Dunk glares down at Egg. “A squire should be strong. A bit of pain will toughen you up.” Egg lets out a belligerent huff, glaring over at Dunk before stubbornly marching ahead. A gentle hand lands on Dunk’s shoulder and he looks over at you.
“Thank you, Ser,” you whisper, an earnest appreciation in your eyes. “I owe my life to you.”
“No,” Dunk pats your hand, unsure how he’s meant to treat you now. “You don’t, m’lady.”
An impish look passes across your face as you withdraw your hand. His shoulder feels cold without the touch.
“Hm,” you hum. “I will find a way to repay you. One you will much appreciate,” you swear, and that gleam in your eyes sends a hot rush of blood to his cheeks.
The laugh you let out has him worrying over what sort of a woman he’s just invited to his company. He supposes he’ll find out soon enough.
a/n: I don’t know if you guys have noticed yet but talking + sex = not my forte lol
It’s been so long since I’ve written smut that I fear I’ve lost my touch, but I will brave that embarrassment for a bite of this beefy man (my uterus has sent me into my monthly bout of lust if ya couldn’t tell😭)
Belle’s currently feeling:
end. — I do not own the characters or the show A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2026. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
