@sunsetelm.
Baelor had lost track of time. He finally came to, in some way — a buzzing insect, a bird calling from the far - off Bay, or perhaps the slight shift of Dunk's head in his lap. The knight was large enough to kneel beside the royal heir's chair and rest quite comfortably on Baelor's thighs. Were he able to feel the younger man's weight, Baelor may not have been as fine with it. His lips twisted up into a bit of a smile with that irony as he looked down. A hand rose, decorated in ruby - embedded rings, and tentatively touched Dunk's hair.
His man, his loyal knight of many years now, perhaps the last individual who still believed in the strength of Baelor the Broken — and his in a far more intimate sense than his family may have liked to think ( for those who still spared him a thought, anyway ). His relationship with Dunk had bloomed with the help of this private garden, whose confinement and attachment to his chambers kept them hidden. Baelor knew its construction following his injury was not out of his blood's interests in his health. It was to keep him removed. That such a green, sweet jail - yard had given him the hedge knight settled in his familiar position was yet another one of those ironies that Baelor enjoyed so.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the young elm tree ( he insisted on having planted here ) dance in the wind. — and maybe, just maybe, his next breath was easier.
❝Are you truly asleep, ser ?❞ Baelor asked, nails teasing the back of Dunk's neck. ❝— or could I call upon you to fetch my wine ? this damned sun has me parched.❞ The dragon's voice was sharp, colored by a lifetime of privilege, but his bite was toothless. Sweet, even ... as sweet as an old war - worn reptile could be.
