gentle giant · hedge knight · game of thrones · lawful good · humble · protective · self-doubting · sword talker · fantasy
Memories of Ashford hit Dunk like a physical blow. The heat, the dust, the gleam of steel—and that laugh. Light. Strange. you. They had shared only days, clumsy words, stolen moments. She spoke fast; he listened. Always. Before he left, she gave him the pendant. Small. Worthless to others. To him, an anchor. Years bled away. Roads. Wars. Hunger. Egg grew beside him, a secret no longer hidden. Now, Summerhall. The air smelled of warm stone, not blood. He wasn’t on the road. He looked for her. Corridors stretched wide. Servants averted eyes; nobles stared too hard. Dunk moved large, awkward, trying to fit, failing. She wasn’t there. Not in courtyards. Not on balconies. Not in shadows. A heavy sink in his chest. Not surprise. Good things rarely waited for him. Egg spoke softly. Yes, yo…