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Another evening befell upon Ashford as all the neighboring seven lords and their folk continued to mingle and party amongst each other, never letting a single drop of liquor or scrap of food lay waste. Yet another part of Ashford, a quieter part, stood the campgrounds of Ser Dunk the Tall and Egg who were currently eating away their fish before quickly pointing to the sky, “I think I see one of the constellations up there.”
“Do you now?” Dunk says, lifting his eyes from his meal to his young squire, “ Which one?”
“The crab constellation, cancer.”
“Wait...how are you seeing a crab up there?” Dunk asks, cranning his neck as he searched the sky. Egg guided him, using an empty stick and pinpointing the stars that formed it.
“This one makes the body and that one makes its pincers. See? That's the whole of it.”
Dunk still didn’t see it. Mostly because constellation forming didn’t quite pieced together in his mind, only leaving it more muddled and confused, “that’s ridiculous. How can a crab even be up there?”
“Its not an actual crab, ser,” Egg shook his head, explaining patiently as he could, “It’s just the pattern they used for it to tell a story.” The hedge knight rolled his eyes. Seriously not believing what he’s saying, “Its got a story now? Gets more unbelievable.” Egg nodded, “its the truth.” He went onto further explaining the tale behind the constellation, speaking of old myths revolving around Hercules and Hera and how loyal the crab was to her until it was slain by the warrior himself. Dunk understood the loyalty part well enough, yet everything else baffled him, “Ok, ok, now your way off your horse.” Egg was just about to argue back when another voice intervened. A familiar oe belonging to one of the seven lords, “the boy’s right, hedge knight. Hell, he’s not that far off...”
Both of them startled and turned, facing Lyonel Baratheon. He stood proudly, stag horns perched upon his head, wearing one of his infamous grins as a mug of ale sloshed lazily in his hand, “So, this is where ser Dunk has been hiding,” Lyonel says with a chuckle, “along with his little squire.”
“Lyonel- I mean milord...” Dunk stammered, “we weren’t expecting your presence...”
The lord waved him off, “Piss off with the formalities, hedge knight. You and I both know were past that stage.”
Dunk flustered slightly, “Uh...yeah of course.” Egg noticed the sudden change in color, uncertain of the reason for it, before turning his attention back to Lyonel and then his crown, “What brings you here, milord?”
“Well...” he sighs with a shrug, “won in a game of drinks, got fucking bored to death after, then my drunken arse just took me to gods knows where and lo and behold, stumbled into your camp. Not a bad spot you both have...” He added, taking a gander at their setup. As he stepped closer, he did notice the boy’s eyes lingering at his crown. Lyonel chuckling, “Boy, why don’t you go wash this for me? Give it a good cleaning, yeah?”
A small smile forms with a hint of shining gleen in his eye, feeling excited though keeping it hidden as he nodded “of course, milord.”
“Be careful with that, ya hear?” Dunk warned, “unless you have loads of coin to pay back a broken crown!!!”
“I won’t break it. I promise,” with a bow, Egg departed the clearing, leaving both Lyonel and Dunk alone. The lord then looked back to the tall man, pointing to a spot next to him, “Care if I sit?”
Dunk shook his head, “Oh by all means, please do,” he says, sitting back down.
Lyonel sat, lowering his mug down nearby. For while, they both kept their eyes on the fire, listening to it pop and crack as the flames danced along the burning branches. The quiet settled berween them, heavy but not uncomfortable, until Lyonel finally broke it, “you and that boy put on one hell of a fight in the tug-o-war the other day. Gave those sniveling bastards a taste of their own shit.” Dunk shifted slightly, a small warmth blossoming in his chest, “that’s kind of you to say, Lyonel. Though...” he hesitated, “it would have been nice to have you around during the middle of the game instead of wandering off to get a drink...” he almost regretting saying it until Lyonel laughed and gave him a playful shove, “Fuck you, hedge knight. You guys handled that just fine. Besides, I was thirsty as hell”
“Right,” Dunk chuckled, nodding, “..yeah of course” he paused, then asked, “Ser-...Lyonel, was there an actual reason why you came here?”
Laughing storm said nothing at first. Then, in a quieter tone, he answered, “Honestly...I came here to see you.”
Dunk’s brows rosed. He had no idea what he could’ve done to draw the attention of one of the seven lords. None of the others cared a lick for a hedge knight, and yet somehow, this one did. Curiosity mingled with unease however.
“Uh...” Dunk leaned back on one hand, “Is there a reason for that?”
“After the party, after the games, I couldn’t help but seek you out,” Lyonel said quietly, “You’re a hell of a lot different than the rest of the bastards down there, I could tell.” He leaned back in much the same way Dunk had, settling close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed. His hand followed, moving slowly, until it rested near Dunk’s own.
“Fuck,” Lyonel added, softer now. “Your whole demeanor, you, and a spark that caught my attention. That’s all.’
Dunk didn’t really know what to say. The words hit him harder than any punch he’d taken from others. His heart began to race, heat rushing up his neck as he tipped his head back toward the sky, clearing his throat in a poor attempt at composure. “I....well...um....” he coughed, then grasped for something. Any words that scrambled somewhere in his thoughts, “stars are looking...very bright tonight with their....con....consta...” he gestured vaguely upward, “star crabs.”
Lyonel lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head, “They certainly are.”
As they both looked up, a shooting star zipped across the night sky. Then another followed close behind. Dunk remembered what Egg had told him on their first night beneath the tree: that falling stars meant that luck was on their side. Perhaps this was one of those moments. Being fortunate enough that a companion, perhaps something more, came into his life so suddenly, and under a sky that seemed for once, to be watching kindly. Lyonel’s hand moved again, slow enough that Dunk could have pulled away if he wanted to. Their fingers hovered just inches apart, “Dunk?”
“Uh...yes, Lyonel?”
“Will you heed my call to the next war?” Lyonel asks, his fingers finally settling atop his.
Dunk looked at their hands then back to him, and slowly nodding, “Y-yes of course, Lyonel. T-The next war.” With a smile, Lyonel leaned in, inching close enough that Dunk could feel his breath. Dunk closed his eyes and did the same until a booming little voice shattered the moment. Both men startled at once, retreating quickly and masking it with awkward laughs and poorly timed coughs.
“Milord, your crown is all tidied up for you,” egg announced brightly, holding out the Baratheon crown.
“Ah boy, thank you,” Lyonel said, taking it back, “I must say, you did a hell of job cleaning it. This’ll make the other lords jealous” he chuckles. Dunk nodded along, “Agreed. Good job, egg.”
“Now then...” Lyonel grabbed his mug and rose to his feet, “Guess it’s time for me to piss off. Sleep is already starting to kick my arse.” He says, making his way to the camp's exit. Egg waved enthusiastically as Dunk did the same, “Until next time, Lyonel.”
Laughing storm turned back, giving Dunk a certain nod, “Until the morrow, Dunk. Sleep well the both of ye.” As Lyonel turned away, his thumb brushed over the hand that had rested atop Dunk’s moments before. Then a soft touch to his lips, murmuring under his breath, “Perhaps another time and properly this time,” before disappearing back toward the main camp. Dunk and Egg returned to their things, resuming their usual routine only this time, packing up quietly to prepare for sleep. They both chatted for a little while longer before getting into their own respective sleeping sacks. Egg drifted off into his own dream land whereas sleep did not come easily. Dunk laid on his back, hands folded over his chest as he stared up into the dark as if the stars might still be there. Watching him. Every time he shut his eyes, the firelight returned. Instead, the crackle, warmth, were the same way Lyonel’s voice had dropped when he said his name.
‘Dunk.’
He swalloed and shifted. The bedroll rustling softly. ‘It was foolish,’ he told himself. Lords didn’t seek out hedge knights, and yet Lyonel had come. Had sat with im. Had looked at him as though Dunk were something worth noticing. He replayed it all, again. The closeness of Lyonel’s shoulder, the way his hand had moved, the weight of his fingers settling over Dunk’s own. How he didn’t pull away. How he hadn’t wanted to.
His heart kicked at the memory, traitorous and loud in his chest.
Dunk turned onto his side, staring at the faint outline of Egg asleep nearby. Steady and unaware. The camp was quiet now, save for distant laughter and the insects singing their endless songs.
He exhaled slowly, pressing his face into the crook of his arm, “Seven save me,” he muttered under his breath.
“Am I really falling for a lord???”