#ryrgain

[sunsetelm]

“You needn’t look so stricken, Ser. I did not realize my handkerchief required a knight so tall to rescue it.”

@ryrgain, semi-plotted prompt.

Despite the princess' insistence, Dunk finds it impossible to wipe the look of astonishment off his face now that he knows to whom the kerchief belongs. It's the delicate curve to her mouth that strikes him dumb more than anything-- the implication of intention, like perhaps she'd wanted him to come all this way to return the intricate thing of lace so tiny in his palm. He laughs because he's not sure what else to do. Oh, for a highborn to want attention is one thing, a royal another, but a bleeding princess?

"I... I thought you'd be missing it, my lady. My princess. My..."

Gods. He's spoken to princes before, but it occurs to Dunk right then and there that a princess belongs in her own category. Boys are fools no matter where they're born, but the Princess Aerena looks at him with such intelligence in her eyes. If she'd done this to make a fool of him, Dunk isn't sure he'd recover, nor does he think he'd even be able to tell.

Perhaps this is why Egg never thought to introduce him to this sister of his. Nevertheless, Dunk's smile is awkward, slightly nervous, and sincere all the same-- he's met Targaryens before, and if he can get on well enough with the girl's father, then he can certainly handle her.

"Suppose it doesn't matter" -- his chuckle is soft --" else you'd have had my tongue by now."

With his pointer finger scratching his cheek, Dunk gestures briefly at the kerchief now in the princess' hand. "The stitching on that's lovely. Would've been a shame if your champion failed to receive it."

There isn't a world, after all, where the Princess Aerena truly meant for him to take it.

...is there?

[drachnslayer]

@ryrgain : aerena’s gaze lowers briefly to the silk in his hand before lifting to meet his eyes. “I was under the impression that you preferred trophies of greater spectacle, Ser Siegfried.” she extends a gloved hand, asking for the handkerchief. “did you intend to return it? or were you considering adding it to your collection of conquered things?”

his furrowed brow lays bare his confusion when he is greeted with those words. a colder reply than he had imagined to his offering of the handkerchief. foolishly, perhaps, he'd been under the impression that the princess had left it by his pavilion with intention. a ploy to make him come to her, spare him a sheepish smile or steal a forbidden glance and hope he do the same. but perhaps hers is another sort of wicked little game. one in which she merely delights in the confusion when he finds that the embroidered token was not meant for him.

finally the ser would close his gaping mouth. he shakes his head, casts his gaze to the ground in his embarrassment. and to make it clear that he had no such foolish games in mind even when he did, to show that he still knows his station, the knight lowers himself down upon one knee before the princess. he who is known for slaying the very sigil of her house can not allow himself a mishap like this one.

when he hands the silk back to her there is only one answer that could ever be appropriate. “ return it. ” he half-grumbles, frustrated by his own misjudgement now, and by the display of submission that is so unlike him.

[sunfyred]

come, Aegon—let us leave the realm beneath us for an hour. I should like to see whether Sunfyre and Ryrgain shine brighter than the sunrise together.

the golden goblet landed on the wooden surface with a petulant thud, having lost its appeal now that it was empty of its contents once again. particularly fatigued & jaded on such a dreary day, his seldom temperate disposition seemed exceptionally foul. he made ill-company on such occasions—if he ever was anything but.

dispirited magentas followed his cousin through a disheveled lock over his face as she trotted about with fervor he could not mirror, fingers idly toying with the base of his goblet. he blinked once, slow & eerie. aemond misliked it when he and helaena were in the company of the enemy—or so he and mother often called their half-sister and uncle, along with their respective children from other questionable unions.

"nothing shines brighter than vēsperzys," aegon began aloofly, knocking the goblet over on purpose merely to irritate.

"not even the sun."

[misvos]

continued from here with @ryrgain

There’s many answers that can be thought would come in response to the question posted to Aerena and out of all of them, the prince did not expect one to land quite as hard or affect her. It was more than patience and respect that had the prince quiet as he listened to her. Her words were moving and carried a great effect with them but also landed hard to Valarr. It was words that could have come from his father with the same mind of doing what was right no matter the size of the obligation or risk or what it defied. “It does,” sheepishly replied to his cousin. “There are some things that come when they are past that point that we do not know until it comes sudden and before we can act. Not all of us have the dreams to help us avoid it. Do you think it is not yet past fixing that we can stop it breaking? If you think that then I will do what I can to help.”

[misvos]

“you carry yourself like your father. does it ever feel heavy… or have you grown used to it?”

The similarities between father and son were never ending. From their colouring, the two different eye colours shared and growing up hearing how much of his father he looked like. Differences only being shorter in height and slimmer but an attempt of kindness often heard with a comment about the degree of handsomeness Valorr has over his sire that he puts down to the lack of twice-broken nose. Even his voice sounded like the man he came from. The list went on and on, he only hoped he could compare how much that would change as the years passed between them. “I never felt it to be heavy,” he says careful and true, “I have always felt it to be many things I hold in great pride. I don’t let the weight of it push me down but help me rise.”

[sunsetelm]

“ser duncan, do birds ever mistake you for a watchtower when you stand still?”

@ryrgain, unprompted.

Dunk almost choked on his water then.

"What?" he asked, looking where Aerena sat beside him. In front of them and some distance away, Egg was sparring with one of his father's knights. Dunk was doing his best not to make any commentary, even if every swing of the other man's sword would hardly be enough to protect him in places like Flea Bottom.

"Do birds--?" The question was so absurd he couldn't help the short huff of a laugh. "I... cannot say for certain, princess.

"Though now I've a mind to ask if you think so."

It wouldn't be the first time she'd teased him, after all, and he was starting to understand how her mind worked.

[sunsetelm]

“tell me truthfully, Ser Duncan… what is your favorite thing to eat? and do not say ‘whatever is put before me,’ that is not an answer.”

@ryrgain, unprompted.

Oh, the Princess Aerena was beginning to know him too well. Dunk paused, one hand on Thunder and the other still grasping a brush, and fixed her with an amused look over his shoulder.

"Is it a crime against the king to enjoy all manners of food?" he posed, even though he knew that wasn't the point. Aerena's expression told him she was serious enough, however, and so he would afford her a proper answer.

"Erm... it's simple, but it's stews that've always made me feel happiest."

Feeling was as much an indicator of favourite as taste was, surely. Dunk knew very little of any actual culinary arts, not beyond the herbs and spices Ser Arlan had shared with him.

"I'm not bothered by what meat goes into it, either," he said, remembering Flea Bottom and its infinitely mysterious brown. For what it was, it really had filled and warmed him. "Chances are I've had all the smallfolk're wont to get."

Returning to his work, Dunk moved the brush in even strokes along Thunder's coat to make it shiny. Though this was typically Egg's duty, Dunk didn't mind returning to it whenever the boy was busy visiting his family. A part of him was delighted, though, that Aerena had deemed him important enough for her presence even without her little brother near. After finally winning some jousts at the last tourney with her handkerchief tucked neatly in his clothing, he'd been hoping to see her.

He was glad Aerena, somehow, felt the same.

"What of you, m'lady?" Dunk asked, walking around Thunder both to start on his opposite side and to look at Aerena properly. "I can only imagine the stuff you've had growing up..."

[drachnslayer]

@ryrgain : “do you miss it? the simplicity of iron and hammer. steel does not scheme. it does not bow. it does not whisper.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ breaking lances is simple too. ” he muses, letting his head fall to the side with a fondness in his gaze, and lowers the knife he'd been sharpening to his lap. perhaps the activity has reminded her of his former life. it surely reminds him of it. siegfried rises upon the entrance of the princess and puts the knife aside.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀there is not one thing he misses about being a blacksmith's apprentice. surely iron and hammer have their simplicity. but the boy from the snakewood had never been good at the craft, much to the chagrin of his master, who'd gradually sought to make his apprentice's life hell. and siegfried enjoys the thrill of sword and lance, prefers even the pain of broken shoulders and wounds to the reprimanding smacks and the shouting and the thankless life of a low-born.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ doesn't take much scheming. ” this he can confidently say thinking about what the tilt brings out in its contenders. he thinks back to knights that stab horses in a desperate attempt to win, or lord tully biting off a fish head. it is where men are men, the most at home in their simplicity and childish need for validation.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀but he knows she meant a different thing. and she is wise to fear that, as comfortable as he is in his own simplicity, he may yet become a plaything to those who'd scheme and whisper and spin their little threads. smiling, he steps closer, observing her with a spark of amusement in his eye, his tone laced with something that would suggest that she is now the one who must provide an answer. “ but perhaps that happens on the stands. ”