oncewasenough
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Summary
Much ails you, and nearly all of it is Ser Duncan the Tall. After months of failed hints, stolen cloaks and increasingly indecent yearning, a small tourney prompts even the gods to decide enough is enough—and place you both within the same four walls.
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Duncan finally turns. “What ails you, girl?”
The stars have multiplied while you were drinking. You squint at them.
“What must I do so you’d call me a good girl?”
There is a small clatter. The bridle has nearly slipped from Duncan’s hand.
You might pretend you said nothing. You might pretend he failed to hear. The wine has carried both mercies well beyond your reach, so you prop yourself on your elbows instead and look at him. He has gone red to the ears, gaze fixed fiercely on the ground between his boots. You bat your lashes. “I can learn tricks.”
For a moment he remains petrified. Then his mouth tightens. “Aye,” he says. “That’s it.” He strides over, crouches and gathers you from the grass. One arm goes beneath your knees, the other round your back, and the ground gives way with astonishing ease.
“Where are we going?” you ask, hope brightening you despite every lesson learnt thus far.
“Yer drunk. I’m puttin’ you to bed.”Bookmarked by oncewasenough
12 Jul 2026
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A mermaid falls in love with a knight praying on her riverbank. A witch gives her legs and three days to make him love her back.
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Your tail gives a hard, involuntary twitch. Until now he has been iron and leather and bright mail and the broad set of shoulders that belong to grown creatures who know their force. Then the water takes the blood and the grime from him and what rises from beneath it stills your breath clean out of you.A boy. A beautiful boy. Young in the face despite the size of him. Wet lashes spiked dark. Mouth parted. Water running from brow to cheek to jaw, then slipping under the collar at his throat and down his neck. Your nails bite into the stones. Your gills flare wide and fast. You drag in more water through them without meaning to, as if the stream has suddenly thinned and left you short.
Bookmarked by oncewasenough
09 Jun 2026
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Bittersweet by ToTheStars8
Fandoms: A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
04 May 2026
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Summary
Ser Duncan and Egg have been traveling for three years on the King's road and less-traveled paths.
They've scoured most of the seven kingdoms, from the Sunset Sea to Winterfell, facing problems both mundane and extraordinary. And, when you, a pretty handmaiden, approach Dunk and Egg asking for an escort home after the death of your lady, it seems to be yet another humble task.
As your travels ensue, love and money troubles seem to make this banal task into one that Dunk is not sure he can ever forget.
Bookmarked by oncewasenough
26 May 2026
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Summary
Duncan suffers from a severe case of down-bad for his new neighbour. When she clearly needs help getting furniture carried and assembled, he does what he must—helps.
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“Yeah.” He gives a small nod. “So. Saturday.”
“Saturday,” you echo.
“Deadly.” The word slips out on its own. Duncan feels his ears burn. “I mean—good. Grand. I’ll see you then.”Bookmarked by oncewasenough
26 May 2026
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Summary
Dunk struggles enough with his predicament on his own. When his accidental travelling companion turns out not to be who they said they are it gets worse.
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Your face twists. “Bastard.”
“Aye!” And there he loses hold of himself. You are ungrateful. Half-naked, saved by him, and ungrateful, speaking to him as if he were some dog that had fouled your shoe. The fever seems to have passed its worst work, but you are still witless. Weak too. Your chest heaves unevenly and your thighs tremble beneath you as if anger alone is keeping you upright. Duncan knows trembling thighs on a woman from other times, and the thought sickens him with its own untimeliness. After it comes one of Ser Arlan’s old lessons on what a man does with insolent little things such as yourself. Before the hand he imagines can fall and meet flesh bent over the knee, his voice raises instead, full-force, and he’s spitting onto his own face. “That bastard hauled your boots off, found you walking on a foot black as rot, cooled your skin, changed your shirt, and sat by whilst you sweated half the fever out. You may curse me now only because of that!”Bookmarked by oncewasenough
07 May 2026