The Pleasure of Being Seen
Ser Duncan the Tall x Gender Neutral Reader (No pronouns)
TW: Depictions of assault and mugging (reader is hit and slapped once), violence (Dunk decks a deserving man), depictions of reader insecurity (vague)
Fluff (super happy ending) | Romantic | SFW | No use of Y/N or other reader name blanks | Oneshot | Word Count: 3.8k
An inn was a boon. Of course, there had always been something special, in a quiet, simple way, about sleeping on the road. Lying under stars and trees, listening to birds go quiet, the songs replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind. And there was always that warm sense of intimacy, sleeping close to Ser Arlan and Dunk, sharing the extra blanket on cold nights or putting it up over your heads when it rained. Inns were uncommon but never unheard of on the road, and it felt like a miniature vacation every time. Ser Arlan liked to keep a bed partner when he could, which meant that you and Dunk usually got a room just for yourselves in whatever inn you occupied. That always felt special in ways you wouldn’t dare speak of. Even though the old Ser isn’t with you now, you think of him often. You wonder fondly what he might say about the little prince who’s joined your party.
Egg is a bright light in your life. Sudden and special as a shooting star. You have loved having him with you, even if the events leading to his joining were the most terrifying and distressing of your life. You’ve come to care for the boy like a brother, taking him under your wing in your own crafts. You teach him how to identify the plants in the forest and on roadsides. Which leaves can be brewed into a tea for headaches, which roots can be crushed or ground to yield salves for cuts and scrapes, which mimics are so deadly they can kill you within seconds of touching your tongue. He soaked everything up with supreme eagerness, and though he did like to complain about food and occasionally long days, his presence was entirely positive.
Tonight was an inn night, the first since Ashford. You may have had a hand in it. Dunk had been careful about his sudden notoriety since the trial, and you had agreed that it may be best to lay low while the gossip inevitably sweeps through Westeros. But he is also still suffering the bout of injuries he sustained in the battle.
“You need a bed,” you had insisted one night while applying a cooling salve to his now barely swollen eye. “Your body will not be able to fully recover if you are constantly jostling it and making it sleep on rocks and tree roots.”
“I’m alright,” Duncan murmured, though it held a weakness that you knew meant he was lying. “Can’t waste the money on an inn just for me,”
You gave him a stern, wary look, lips pursed into a line. You sighed, pretending the conversation was entirely over, but had later casually mentioned over your shoulder that you wished you could give your hair a proper wash. You even made a slight show of trying to detangle the ends with your fingers. One of the many good things about travelling with such an earnest, caring, and truly foolish man was how easy it is to get him to do anything at all. You only smiled when Duncan suggested stopping in an inn the next day.
The hot meal they serve for dinner is a welcome treat for all of you, and Egg especially made it clear that this was better than anything you had ever made on the road. You flick a crumb of your bread roll at him, and he sticks his tongue out at you. You hear Dunk huff an amused sound, and you go soft with a barely concealed smile when you meet eyes. You both return to your meals as Egg looks on, his eyes flicking between the two of you.
A minstrel starts up some old lyre song in the corner as you finish your food, and you perk up immediately. You’ve always been fond of music. You’ve warm memories of line dancing with Dunk when you were younger, awkward and blushing as you linked arms and each tried desperately not to overstep. Ser Arlan seemed to get a lot of amusement from that, if his red-faced laughter was anything to go by. You rise, casually mentioning that you are going to go stand closer to listen to the song, and leave the boys to their ciders.
The song is about love, as many tend to be. You lean against a wooden beam near the wall and listen intently to the lyrics; gentle but true in their passion, depicting a couple who have loved one another for years but have never felt the courage to speak it. You sigh softly to yourself, entirely entranced by the gentle plucking of the chords and the smooth voice of the minstrel.
“Fair music?”
Your head turns quickly to the side, and you instantly wonder where this man came from. He is handsome, with dark brown curls and tanned skin that makes you wonder briefly if he isn’t Dornish in some regard. But mostly you are surprised you did not hear nor see him approach you.
“Y-yes,” you feel your soul deflate and curl at the stutter, and your head dips. “Sorry, yes, it is lovely,”
He chuckles with so much warmth it makes your stomach flip.
“Don’t apologise for having an opinion. If anything, I’m sorry I startled you,”
You look back up, finding him smiling and leaning close to you in an easy manner that somehow doesn’t feel strange, even though he is a stranger. You manage a relieved little chuckle. At least he is kind about it.
“No, it is my fault for not paying much attention to my surroundings,” you say. “Likely the music is too fair, and I have found myself ignoring everything but.”
He chuckles again, his eyes glimmering low in the lantern light.
“I could not blame you. Love songs always pluck at my heart strings as well. Are you travelling and staying the night, perhaps? Or a local simply here to enjoy the lyre?”
“Travelling. My companions are sitting just over there,”
The stranger glances in the direction you gesture, his eyes sweeping carefully over Duncan and Egg, who only stare back when you send them a small wave. Your brow ticks in confusion, but the man quickly distracts you from the odd sense of rejection.
“I hope I’m not stealing you away from your family,”
“Oh!” You go warm, chest fuzzy at the assumption, however wrong it may be. “No, it’s not like that. Though I understand why you might think it. We are an unlikely band, but not related by any means,”
“Truly?” He quirks a brow, interest clearly stoked. “So the beaten giant is not your husband who earned his injuries defending his dear spouse from bandits, perhaps?”
You give a flustered laugh that is perhaps a touch too loud, and you instantly recoil as you cringe to yourself.
“No, no, not at all. Though it is an entertaining guess,”
“And what is the story behind his condition, if you would not mind me asking?”
You hesitate. Laying low, you remind yourself. Besides, you are not by any means eager to relive the trial.
You simply give a smile and a placating shake of the head. “A story for another time perhaps,”
He hums, obviously curious, but doesn’t push.
“Well then, if that’s the case, what’s say you join me for a dance?” Suddenly your heartbeat is skipping like a child in your chest and becomes the only thing you can feel. His hand has come to yours, gently raising it from your side. You stare, lips parted, head fogging up with the giddiness.
You’ve met many people in your life. That happens when you are always journeying. But despite that, you have never felt like anyone has ever really seen you. It was peculiar maturing slowly as you went from place to place, slowly coming into your body and losing the odd gangle of limbs for a surer form. And as you grew, you kept waiting for someone to notice. For someone to stop and stare, to look on longingly like in fairytales. For an expression of interest, even just a little one. You never understood why no one ever did, and you have carried the quiet sting since adolescence. Maybe you are just plain, you thought. You supposed the dirt and grime of the road never helped. But even after you learned how to properly style your hair, and what colours look best on your skin, it never changed. As an adult, it is not the sort of thing you dwell on. You are too old to care anymore, you tell yourself, chiding the ache in your chest and folding it away.
You’re nodding before your brain even catches up. Because the ache is back, but now it is being enveloped in a warm, tingling sensation so gratifying that you can only chase after the man giving it. The handsome, charming man looking at you with twinkling eyes, who wants to dance with you. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop from smiling too wide.
Across the floor, Duncan’s jaw tightens. He sees the elated smile on you, of course he does. He sees everything you do. But right now, he doesn’t want to see you spun and giddy in the arms of somebody else. So he frowns at his cider and downs the rest of the mug.
Egg is less satisfied with resigned drinking.
“You should go smash in his skull,” Egg begins, carrying all the urgency and anger a boy of nine can. “Show him that you’re the hedge knight who prevailed against dragons by shoving your greatsword up his asshole!”
Duncan turns his glare to the boy.
“Don’t start,” he warns lowly. “’M not doing a thing. Let them have their fun,”
Duncan purses his lips at the sour taste in his mouth, waving down a server for a tankard of ale this time.
“’sides, I’m in no state to be pickin’ fights,” He gestures to the crutch sitting beside him.
Egg only shrugs. “Then shove the crutch up his ass instead,”
That makes Dunk huff, and he takes a mighty gulp of ale as soon as it arrives. He spends the rest of the night bitterly pretending not to glance over at you, lovely bright you, laughing and hair bouncing as you dance.
-
You’re attached to the stranger’s arm, giggling as he leads you away from the dance floor. You’ve spent several songs in his arms, and you don’t think you’ve felt this good in years. The excitement is intoxicating, and the attention tenfold more so. You lean closer eagerly to hear him better when he begins to speak.
“I believe I’ve taken enough of your time tonight,” he offers another dazzling smile. “Let me walk you to your room,”
So you do, because you’ll take every bit of consideration you can get. But when you unlock the door, intending to turn back to him and say thank you for the dances, you feel your breath wrench from your lungs. He has shoved you; you realise only when you lay dazed on the ground. It wasn’t a particularly hard hit, but combined with the complete and utter surprise, you are stuck on the floor as your mind catches up to the image of the handsome stranger moving swiftly past you into the room.
“Hey-,” you protest breathlessly when he drags you by your arm, just far enough into the room to close to door behind you. He drops you like you’re dead weight, his eyes scanning over the possessions you had put away before dinner. He is quick, hands flying through bags and opening drawers. He pulls your meagre coin pouch from your bags, stuffing it in his pocket. But your heart plummets into the floor when he tears through Duncan’s bag next.
“Hey!” You call again, finally regaining your strength despite the poisonous swirl of nausea taking over your body. How could you be so stupid? You put yourself back on your feet, lunging forward. He only rolls his eyes, annoyed and dismissive in a way that stings so much more after all the smiles and warm touches to your hands and back. The stranger kicks at your legs, forcing you back down to the floor and this time slapping you for good measure. Disorientated, sick, and shaking, you can only grip the notches between the wooden floorboards as he makes off with two pouches of coin.
Egg frowns deeply when he spots the man flying down the stairs and slipping back into the crowd.
“Isn’t that…,” his eyes widen and he shoots up, suddenly shouting. “Ser Duncan!”
Upstairs, you have managed to upright yourself, though you remain on the floor, coiled in shame. You feel yourself tremble, skin prickling with the heat of the humiliation. He was profiling you. You see it all now. Asking about you, whether you were local, assessing your companions for threats. How foolish could you be? How stupid to think someone genuinely liked you? Wanted you? Has your entire life not been enough of a lesson? The hot embarrassment boils over when Egg and a hobbling Duncan urgently rush into the room. They both cry your name.
You only shake your head, trying not to look as pitiful as you feel.
“I’m alright. He took our money, all of it, he ran off,”
Duncan’s jaw tightens, and he suddenly looks caught between chasing after the rogue and ensuring you are well. His fists are clenched, near shaking from anger.
“Get him, Ser Duncan! I’ll stay here,” Egg cries. It is all the assurance he needs.
Duncan flies down the stairs, standing up straight as he looks over the heads of the crowd. He travels faster than he should on his bad leg and bad everything else, but he can barely feel the hot shooting pain now. His mind zeros in on the image of you curled on the ground, shaking, and all else fades but his purpose. To protect you.
Duncan practically careens out the back door, head whipping side to side to spot the thief.
“You!” His voice booms. The image of the stranger rushing to saddle a horse is red, and Duncan barely feels his body cry out in protest when he runs forward. Spooked and quite shocked at how fast the giant is despite his obvious injuries, the thief forgoes the reins and mounts the horse, gripping its mane. But when he tries to force the horse into a sudden gallop, it whinnies in panic, raising on its hind legs.
The thief slips from its back, crying out as he crashes into the stable. The hay makes a soft enough landing, and he is able to right himself. Duncan, still charging forward, takes his crutch and throws it like a spear. It hits the stranger’s chest with just enough force to make him stumble again, which gives the hedge knight enough time to close the distance. He grabs the stranger by the hair to give Duncan a straight shot at punching him in the nose. There’s a clean snapping sound as the thief cries out.
Upstairs, Egg is sitting against your side, hand clutching your sleeve and brow furrowed in distress as hot tears prick at your eyes. You have your arms curled around your head, which is sitting against your tented knees, too deeply ashamed of both your own naivety and your childish crying.
“It’s not your fault,” The boy says firmly, curling his fingers around your bicep. “He’s a rotten bastard!”
“I was such a fool,” you hiss breathlessly at yourself. “I can’t believe I let this happen. And now Duncan’s running off to fight despite his condition because of me,”
“Ser Duncan’s strong, you know. And he cares about you. He wants to go churn that bastard into paste because he knows he can, and he wants to avenge you,” Egg is tugging at your arm now, insisting that you stop being sad because it tears at him seeing you so shaken.
Your heads both shoot up when the door opens again.
“Dunk,” you practically sob, scrambling off the floor to place your hands on the sides of his head. You frantically inspect him, noting how his brow is furrowed in barely concealed pain. The consequences of his bravery. Though the results speak for themselves when he gently passes two pouches of coin into your hand.
“It’s alright,” he says warmly. “We’re at no loss as long as you ain’t hurt,”
You shake your head, carelessly tossing the coin bags behind you onto the bed.
“You’re hurt,” you whisper, hands trembling as they hover at his temples. “You’re in pain because I was being a naïve fool. And my stupid, stupid head let me delude myself into thinking that man was interested in anything more than robbing us blind,”
Dunk frowns deeply, and he looks over your shoulder. You can tell by the nod of his head that he’s dismissing Egg. The boy clearly goes to protest, but the hard look he receives makes him trudge out, closing the door behind him.
Duncan briefly touches your hand with his, the warmth instantly soothing the low trembling.
“’M sorry he was a bastard. And he’s a rotten fool for looking at you and seeing anything more than someone who deserves all the kindness and goodness in the world,” he murmurs, seeming to be talking to himself, almost. “I… I know you wanted him to be more. I’m sorry it didn’t work out,”
You blink, a little embarrassed that Dunk of all people saw it, it was so obvious.
“I don’t think I did. Not really,” you sigh softly, hand migrating from his temple to his cheek slowly. “I just got caught up in feeling seen for once. Gods I really was an idiot,”
Dunk frowns again.
“Stop that. You’re the furthest thing from a fool,” he says sternly.
“I was profiled and tricked as easily as a babe,” you huff in a self-deprecating manner.
“Because he’s a bad man, not because you’re stupid,” he insists. “I… I know a thing or two about being a fool, and you’re the farthest thing from it. You’re clever, bright as anything. You’re always figuring out ways o’ doing things I never would’ve thought of,”
His voice has gone soft and warm, and you stare up at him as the ache starts to make itself known again.
“You think that?” you whisper, eyes going wider.
You feel his ears go hot near your fingers, and you watch as his lips purse and his eyes sweep the ground.
“Course I do,” he murmurs, embarrassed but no less sincere. “I know you,”
Something in your heart gives way as you stare up at him, warm realisation pooling in your chest.
“You do know me, don’t you,” you murmur, thumb tracing over the subtly of his cheekbone. Dunk goes hotter under the tender touch, and he stutters for a second before managing a confused whisper of your name. “You’ve always been so good to me. If I didn’t know you, I’d be shocked at your willingness to run after a thief in your state. Thank you, for always looking out for me. For seeing me when no one else does,”
“It’s not hard,” he swallows thickly, readjusting his crutch. “You make it easy,”
It’s so earnest and simple and so Dunk that you melt. Your hand slides quick but gentle to the back of his neck. His brow furrows, but he leans down willingly. You feel his entire body go taut when your lips softly press into his.
Dunk’s body trembles, and he drops the crutch. It clatters to the floor as his hand moves to catch your waist, grounding himself in you. The kiss is sweet and careful, and you can feel your heart beating out your chest as you pull just far enough away to look into his wide, ocean-blue eyes. You can feel his heart too, when you place your hand over his sternum.
“Dunk? Are you alright?” you ask softly, sobering some as you watch him grapple, jaw loose.
His head moves in stuttering nods, and his eyes close and reopen a few times like he’s sure the image of you will dissipate any moment.
“You… you um, you didn’t have to… do that,”
“I wanted to,” you admit, feeling your face burn. “N-not just as thanks, but because I feel so much for you. I think I always have,”
The confession draws Dunk from his trembling, and he instinctively leans closer, his hands meeting at your lower back.
“I know I always have,” he confesses with a shaky exhale. “It’d be hard not to, the way you are. Seven above, you’re everything. You’re strong and smart and good. I-I can’t believe you feel something for me,”
You smile, arms wrapping around him.
“How could I not? You’re the most honourable, kind, giving man I’ve ever met,” you say breathlessly. “I’m so glad it’s you. I can’t believe how lucky I am that I have you with me,”
“Believe me,” he laughs in soft disbelief. “I’m thinkin’ the same,”
You’re both beaming at each other now, staring in barely suspended disbelief as you both lean a little closer.
You giggle breathlessly together as your lips meet in, one, two, several more quick little kisses. Your head moves to rest against his chest, and you stand there for a while, both soaking up the moment in its entirety.
The next day, out on the road again, you and Dunk stay close, exchanging barely hidden giddy smiles that turn into fluttering laughter when you meet eyes too many times. Egg only looks onward knowingly, watching from a pace behind.
“I’m glad you two have finally figured it out,” the boy notes from behind. You both turn to blink at him.
“What, were you waiting for this?” Dunk questions, his brow scrunching.
“I suppose that makes sense,” you laugh softly, smiling at the boy. “You always have seen things plainly,”
He preens at the compliment, chest puffing.
“Obviously. Someone has to, besides. It took the two of you much too long.”
You and Dunk laugh as you shake your heads.
Everything was normal, really. The three of you travelling along as you had been just a day ago. But happier, now. Lighter. Like the sun is shining in your favour. As you glance at Dunk again, and share yet another smile, you can’t help but think that it will keep shining down on you. If your man has anything to say about it, of course. You know now that he’d do anything he can to give you all the warmth and happiness there is to be felt.
I haven't posted any work in so long, it felt so good to stretch my writing muscles with some good old fashioned x reader again. It helps that I'm in love with AKOTSK right now (the fever hath taken us all I fear). Hope you enjoyed!
