💪would really love to see something related to your squire au
💪🏽 Bridal carry
Aerion looked nothing short of frosted by the time they reined up in the stables. There was snow caught in his brows and hair, his face was pale and tinged blue, and he fumbled with the reins and then stayed there, panting even from that minimal effort, making no move to get down. “I can’t feel my feet,” he told Dunk, his voice flat.
Dunk swung him easily off Ember and into his arms—dead weight, and cold like a block of ice, altogether unpleasant, but it was Aerion, so none of that mattered—nothing did but him. “Are you alright?”
“No,” said Aerion, a sulking note in his voice. He bundled his hands up against Dunk’s chest and pressed his face into his shoulder. “Let me down, you can’t carry me in—you've seen to it that I'm no maiden. I’ll lean on you.”
Dunk ignored his angry little dragon, who was apparently too cold to argue, and carried him up to the door anyway before he set him down. He was as gentle as he could manage, but Aerion still grimaced and gripped his arm for balance, wavering. Dunk bundled him past the door of the inn, into the warmth, then had to grab the back of Aerion’s thick fur coat to stop him tripping right over the threshold. The innkeep looked up from sweeping and sucked her teeth at the sight of them.
“Southerners,” she said. “One room or two?”
