bitch, i’m a poet.

The sun crept slowly into the sky the next morning, flooding your small room with orange light. You had been up all night, unable to sleep despite how badly your bones ached for it. Butterflies had settled low in your stomach after meeting the beautiful Ser Duncan, your mind racing with excitement over seeing him again.

Knocking firmly on Daeron's door, you called to him. "Cousin! Wake up! We must make haste to Ashford." No answer. "Daeron?" You pounded a small fist against worn wood. "Aegon!" Nothing. You leaned your ear against the thick door, hoping to hear proof they hadn't left you behind. Just as you'd leaned your weight fully against it, the door swung open, causing you to topple onto poor Egg. A scream came from both of you, and a grunt from Daeron, whose head was buried beneath the thin covers of his bed.

"What the fuck, Egg?!"

"How was I to know you were leaning on it?!" The little boy burst into laughter at his cousin's betrayed face.

"You didn't have to throw the door open as if your life depended on the speed at which you were able to do so, you knob."

Egg opened his mouth in mock protest when Daeron threw a pillow across the room at his brother. "Shut it. Both of you," he mumbled into the bedding.

You stood, pulling Egg from the floor. "Daeron, get up. We need to leave now if we are to make it to Ashford before nightfall."

"Don't care."

"I do care," you hissed. "Father will go mad with worry if I'm not there on time. It's your job to ensure my safe arrival."

"Not my problem."

He was obviously still drunk. The stench of yesterday's ale hung heavy in the air, and he lay next to a puddle of his own sick. He was seen as a disgrace to House Targaryen- haunted by the ghosts of his dreams. It was difficult not to feel sorry for him, but you weren’t sorry enough to ignore the rage bubbling beneath your skin at his dismissal. You’d been traveling for almost a week now, with Daeron taking every opportunity he had to get pissed. 

"Right," you motioned for your smallest cousin to follow. "We shall leave for Ashford without you, then."

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This was a terrible idea, you thought. Aegon sat pressed against your back; the scratchy burlap tunic he wore reeked of an indescribable stench that had you both scrunching your noses in disgust. Every step the horse took unearthed a new foul, fragrant note.

"What are you wearing?" You'd asked while mounting Glimmer. "Where is your doublet?"

Egg shrugged innocently. "I lost it."

There wasn’t time to consider how that was possible. Aegon often got himself into trouble, and last night at the inn was likely no exception.

The pair of you bickered in the hot sun for the better part of four hours before you spotted horses in the distance.

As Glimmer approached, you prayed to the gods that their owner was not nearby. You knew how vulnerable you’d made yourself on the open road, and you weren’t prepared for an altercation. 

"Shh!" Egg's mouth clamped shut at the command, and he peeked around your frame to see ahead. The three horses of a familiar hedge knight roamed lazily near a great elm tree. As you neared them, you craned your neck to see if anyone was around, eyes snagging on a pair of worn boots poking out from behind the tree.

Egg tugged at her sleeve, "That's the knight from the inn."

"Ser Duncan? How do you know the knight from the inn?” 

“How do you know the knight from the inn?” he pressed, an all too knowing look on his small face. 

“Oh shut it would you? The entire way here, you’ve been so annoying I can hardly stand to-”

“Princess?” Ser Duncan’s confused voice made you and Egg freeze, embarrassed to have been caught arguing. 

You sat up and turned to face him, cheeks blushing. “Ser Duncan! How fitting to see you on the road to Ashford.”

He was standing beneath the elm, his pants covered in loose grass. Dunk put his hands on his hips awkwardly as he looked you over. Squinting to see, he noticed Egg behind you. 

“Oi! Boy! Get down from there this instant! Lest you need a clout in the ear,” His tone was scolding, but his eyes remained kind- despite his efforts to seem stern. Duncan strode over to Glimmer and easily lifted your cousin from her back, setting Egg down on the dirt road. “What are you doin’ botherin’ a Princess, boy?”

“I was only helping her, Ser. I swear it!” Egg seemed eager to have the knight’s attention. Almost as eager as you. 

“I’m sorry, Princess,” Dunk turned to you, bowing his head. “The stable boy should not have inserted himself in your travels.” 

“Stable boy?” You cocked your head to the side, considering his words. Beside the tall man, Aegon was motioning wildly with his hands, begging you to stay quiet. Dunk looked down at a particularly wild movement, but Egg feigned innocence, smiling up at him. 

“Yes, Princess,” Egg started slowly, “I was seeing to your horse when you asked me to accompany you to Ashford as you are without a chaperone, remember?” The very idea that you would ever ask a child to join you in place of a chaperone was absurd, and Egg knew it. Luckily for him, Ser Duncan did not seem to find it odd. 

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion, but you decided there was little harm in going along with the boy’s game for now. If he wanted to be a stable boy instead of a Prince of the Realm, so be it. You could sympathize with his want of a simpler life. Ser Duncan scratched his head. 

“Where is your chaperone, Princess?” 

“Drunk,” you shrugged. “I could not wake him this morning, so I decided to gather my horse and go alone.” Egg cleared his throat. “With the boy,” you corrected yourself. 

“The road is no place for a Lady such as yourself. It’s dangerous!” Your heart melted at the clear worry on his face. “A young boy is not a wise travel companion.”

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “Are you saying I’m unwise, Ser Duncan?” 

His eyes widened, “No! No, Princess! I- I would never say that. It’s just that…you really should have a proper chaperone. For your safety.” 

You loosened Glimmer’s reins, moving to dismount her. “Well, Ser, it’s settled! You will be my chaperone the rest of the way to Ashford.” As you began to slide down from the saddle, large hands met your waist firmly, helping you to your feet.

"As you wish, Princess. I am glady at your service." When you faced Duncan, his pupils were blown as his hands dropped to his sides. It was then that he noticed that he was covered in grass clippings, and his top priority became removing them as quickly as possible. Egg watched in disbelief as you ogled the knight. He looked ridiculous, turning in circles, brushing off his rear end, trying to look presentable. He was like a dog chasing its tail. You should be laughing, Egg thought. 

You bit your lip to keep from smiling. Assessing his horses, you question, “Are you of the hedge, Ser?” 

Duncan stops turning and stands to his full height, puffing out his broad chest. “Aye. I am a hedge knight, Princess. But I have sworn an oath to protect the innocent, and I will see to it you’re kept safe as we journey to Ashford.” He strangely gestured with his hand as if he were going to fold into a deep bow. His brow furrowed as if he were confused by his action.

“Seven hells,” Egg murmured. Duncan whacked the back of his smooth head, ears hot with embarrassment. 

“Shall we go then? ‘Tis only a two-hour ride from here. We can make it by supper.”  

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While the journey ahead was not a long one, an uncomfortable silence has settled between the three of you, making time pass slowly. Egg had tried and failed to start a conversation with his new favorite knight several times, but Ser Duncan seemed stiff as a board- his hands gripping the reins of his horse until his knuckles were white. Every now and then, he would look over his shoulder to make sure you were still trailing behind them unharmed.

You'd taken advantage of the silence, using the free time to watch Dunk's well-defined muscles ripple beneath his tunic every so often. His build was impressive. It was shocking that a man as large as he was unable to find employment within any of the great houses.

Bored, Aegon matched his horse's stride with yours, leaning over to not-so-quietly whisper.

"You can speak to him, you know."

"I think I'd rather speak to you." Egg seemed surprised. "Why does Ser Duncan think you are a stable boy?"

Guilt shrank his small body. "Don't tell him, please. I wish to be a squire. For a real knight. Not some boring Kingsguard father chooses."

You chuckle under your breath, careful not to be heard by Dunk. "And what about when we arrive at the tourney, hmm? Don't you think your father will have something to say about you trailing behind a hedge knight?"

"He won't know. I plan to stay with Ser Duncan as long as possible, cousin. He's a good man- I can tell. I will squire for him, and then by the time I am found out, it will be too late for Ser Duncan or father to deny my request."

You rolled your eyes. "That's your plan? It's terrible."

"All I need you to do is pretend you don't know me. Please." Unfortunately for you, Egg had mastered the art of puppy eyes.

"Fine."

"Oi!" Called Duncan. "Ashford's just up ahead."

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Here's part 2! I think there will be 2-3 parts per episode. I'm open to making them longer (like 1 chapter per episode), but then it will likely be one chapter a week as opposed to one every day or so.

Chapter 1: The Inn

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The air was suffocatingly thick in the Reach. The sun had only just settled beyond the horizon, and night brought no relief from the wet, hot winds rolling north from the Summer Sea. Daeron hastily ushered you and his youngest brother, Aegon, inside a dimly lit inn on the outskirts of the Dornish Marshes. Sweat clung to your crimson dressings as Daeron began ordering the innkeeper around. She was no older than your father, but looked worn down by the years of tending to the needs of others. She was a short and stocky woman who held the tired sharpness of a mother in her eyes.

“We require two rooms for the night. The boy and I in one, and the girl in the other.” Daeron barked in the most Princely tone he could muster in his drunken state. 

“I’m sorry, my Prince, but there are no rooms tonight. Tourney’s got us filled to the brim with knights and smallfolk alike.” 

“Move them, then.” Daeron’s words were slurring together, a product of the empty wineskin at his hip. “The Crown will see that you’re rewarded handsomely.” The woman squinted at him, unenthused. “Please,” he added in earnest.

You sat in the corner surveying the empty public house. It was unlikely the inn was short on rooms. If anything, you assumed the innkeeper recognized her cousin as Maekar Targaryen’s troubled son and was trying to save herself the headache of housing him for the night. That, or she wanted to see how many Gold Dragons she could shake out of the boy’s pockets before he turned away. Aegon pulling at your skirts brought your mind back into your tired body. 

“What, Egg?” you hissed, irritated. 

“I want to see to the horses,” he whined. “May I go?” 

“I don’t want to go back outside right now. Can’t it wait? I’m sure the stable boys are seeing to them just fine.”

“There are no stable boys! Glimmer will be frightened if she’s left alone too long.” Your horse, Glimmer, was a soft spot, and Egg knew it- the little shite. “You can stay here,” he offered. “I won’t be long, I swear it.” You sighed, knowing you wouldn’t be winning this fight in your current state of exhaustion. 

“Fine.” Egg cheered and made a run for the door. “Be back here before the hour of the bat ends, or I’ll have your head!” Your eyes narrowed at the back of his smooth head, suspicious of what mischief he had planned. 

Sinking into your chair, you rested her eyes while Daeron and the innkeeper finally agreed on a price for the two rooms, and he was served what was sure to be his first of many cups of ale.  

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The public house’s door creaked open to reveal the largest man you had ever seen. He had to bow his head just to clear the frame. His sandy hair was long and disheveled, and you could smell him from across the room. But something about him made you sit up straighter, your full attention on him as he awkwardly settled into a too-small chair. Across from the stranger, Daeron slept, drooling into his spilled ale. 

“There’s good lamb, roasted with a crust of herbs and some ducks my son shot down. Which will you have?” The innkeeper questioned in a bored tone. “Both,” the stranger eagerly responded, earning a snicker from the plump woman. “You’re big enough for it.”

That he was. She poured him a cup of ale, which he dwarfed in his enormous calloused hands. You swallowed thickly at the sight. “How much farther to Ashford?” He questioned.

“A day’s ride,” You chimed in, earning his attention. “Are you bound for the tourney, then?” You asked, nodding to his splintered shield. His cheeks turned a sweet shade of pink that made your stomach flip. You weren’t sure if he recognized you.

In all his years, Ser Duncan had never seen a maiden as beautiful as the one sitting before him. Your chestnut brown hair was haphazardly braided out of your pale face, perfectly displaying your soft features. Eyes as blue as the sea, cheeks as flushed as a rose. You wore a crimson dress, fitted with gold- real gold, he was sure. Sweat sinfully glistened on exposed collarbones. What you were doing alone in a place such as this, he did not know.

He’d been staring for far longer than appropriate. Righting the sword at his side and clearing his throat, he met your gaze once more. 

“Aye, my Lady. I mean to enter the lists tomor-”

“-I dreamed of you,” Daeron slurred, eyes cloudy with recognition as he accused the knight. A blade appeared in his hand. “Stay the fuck away from me. You hear?” 

“My Lord?” Ser Duncan looked nothing if not confused as Daeron rose from his seat and began climbing the steps to his room. 

“And her,” Daeron pointed the dagger at his cousin. “You keep away from her.” A gold piece was tossed from the staircase, landing heavily on the sticky table before he retreated for the night. 

You rolled your eyes at the knight. “Pay him no mind, Ser.” You moved to share a table with the tall stranger. “He knows not what he says when he’s drunk.” Duncan dared not to move a muscle, as if it might scare you away. 

“Your husband, my Lady?” He asked, a slight stiffness laced into his words. 

You laughed, “My cousin, Ser. And my travel chaperone.” Duncan nods, tension releasing from his broad shoulders. “We are making way to Ashford as well. For the tournament.”

“Is he a knight, then?”

You smiled. If he didn’t recognize Daeron’s silver hair, then he certainly had no idea of your station. “Yes, Ser. He is meant to enter the lists, but I’m not certain he’ll be able to mount a horse, let alone hold a lance, once we arrive tomorrow.”

“A tourney’s a dangerous place for a Lady. He should not drink so much in your company.”

“A fool’s wish,” you mused. “What is your name, Ser?” 

“They call me Dunk, my Lady. Erm- Ser Duncan, I mean.” He looked unsure of himself. "Ser Duncan the Tall."

"Tall you certainly are, Ser Duncan." You playfully brought his cup of ale to your lips, making sure to place them just close enough to where his had been to see the knight blush again. "Tell me, how does a man grow to be so tall?"

He laughed nervously at your devilishly curled lips, heat rising to his face. No woman had ever paid him much mind. He wasn't sure how to present himself.

You leaned forward, endearing yourself to him. Duncan knew that if he were to look any lower than your face, he'd be able to see down your tightly laced corset. He fought to keep his eyes locked on yours.

"I don't know, my Lady. I-" The innkeeper set a large plate piled with roasted meats on the table. “She’s no Lady of the Court, Ser. Address the Princess properly.” 

You fixed your mouth into a tight, annoyed smile at the woman nodding in your direction. It was nice being just a Lady for once. Ser Duncan scrambled out of his chair, scraping it loudly behind him as he took to one knee. "Your Highness," he bowed. "Forgive me- I have heard tales of your beauty, but I- I knew not what you looked like," he stuttered. "I am honored to be of service to you in any way I can, my La- er Princess. Your Grace." His eyes were the size of saucers- pupils blown and dazed as though he'd seen a ghost, chin tucked in submission to the crown.

You bit back a laugh at his nervousness. "Please, Ser Duncan. I'll have none of that." Lightly cupping his jaw, you forced him to look you in the eye once more. "Sit with me. Eat. There is no need for formalities here." She gestured to the empty room.

"Of course, Princess," he nodded, "As you wish."

You sat in silence after that. Duncan anxiously picked at his meal, unsure of how to eat in front of royalty. You amusedly watched him as he, several times, opened his mouth to speak but decided against saying anything. Sensing his nerves growing by the minute, you pushed out of your seat and bent at the waist in goodbye.

"I should retire, Ser." He started to stand, but you held up a hand in protest. "No need to get up just for me to leave you. I do look forward to seeing a lance in those strong hands of yours, Ser Duncan." He choked on his ale. As you turned to the staircase, he saw a strand of pure white hair woven into your messy braid. "Good night," he whispered, breathless.

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Let me know if you want the next part!

You were glowing—so much so that people were starting to notice. Barty's blood satiated you in a way you'd never experienced before. You had more energy, looked healthier, and felt more confident—everything was amplified up to one hundred after feeding off your boyfriend. The only problem? The effects were wearing off rapidly.

"Shit, B!" You scolded as Barty strolled into the mostly empty common room. "Pull up your collar, for the love of Salazar."

Two small puncture wounds were peeking out over his uniform shirt, and the bruising called attention to his neck.

"And why, Sugar, would I do that?" He pecked your cheek and flopped onto the sofa you were reading on, his head landing in your lap. "Gotta show everyone my girl can't keep her hands off me." You should be more upset. No one at Hogwarts knew of your...condition. But you couldn't find it in yourself to be mad at him when he was looking up at you with big, lovesick eyes.

You sighed. "I just don't need anyone noticing that they aren't hickeys." Your voice was soft, only for Barty's ears.

"Next time you'll have to bite lower then," he shrugged, pulling the book from your hands and tossing it onto the floor. He closed his eyes, completely oblivious to your gobsmacked expression.

"You know I can't 'bite lower,' you knob. And there isn't going to be a next time."

Barty snickered, relaxing into you. His eyes closed lazily as you ran your fingers through his hair. Humming softly, a puzzled expression crossed his face.

"Hey, Sugar?" He sat up to face you. "How come you've been so...perky lately? Not that I'm complaining, it's just..." he trailed off, unsure of how to put his thoughts into words that wouldn't offend.

You sighed, bending down to retrieve your discarded book and setting it in your lap. Looking around for any eavesdroppers, your voice is a whisper. "It's different, I know." You choose your words carefully. "After I...fed from you, I erm...feel different." Barty simply blinked, waiting for you to continue. "Human blood is the intended diet for my kind, B. It made me stronger. I just...I feel better than I ever have with animal blood. We aren't meant to deny ourselves in the way I do. That's why I've seemed so perky. Because I fed properly for the first time."

Your eyes couldn't leave your lap. You were ashamed to admit that Barty's blood had such an effect on you. It was unnatural. Even though you weren't technically human, you still felt like one. Humans weren't meant to feast on each other. It was an abomination. You were an abomination. The thoughts bounced loudly in your head, clouding your eyes with thick tears. When you dared to look up at your boyfriend, you expected to see horror in his eyes. Instead, horror crept into yours, as you were met with the widest, shit-eating grin you'd ever seen.

His reaction didn't make sense. Barty took in the sight before him- your tear-filled, confused eyes made him throw his head back and cackle. "What?" You questioned, hastily wiping at your reddening cheeks. "You're being mean, Barty." He lightly grabbed your wrist as you tried to get up from the sofa. He pulled you into him, shushing at your protests.

"I'm not being mean, Sugar. I'm flattered."

"Why on earth would that flatter you? It's disgusting."

"None of that, my love. You just told me that I made you feel better than you've ever felt in your life. Me. I did that. And I can keep doing it."

You rolled your eyes. Of course, that's all he heard. "No, Barty. You can't keep doing it."

"Who says?"

"I do! I promised Dumbledore that this type of thing would never happen while I'm attending school here. It puts me in a really bad spot if anyone ever found out-"

"No one will know." He interrupted, righting his collar to hide the evidence of your feed. "I will never tell a soul, Sugar. Honest."

You knew he wouldn't. If there was anything Barty Crouch Jr. loved more than chaos, it was a secret.

"Barty," you tried your best to give him a serious look, "that can't happen again. It's already wearing off, and it's hardly been a week. Your wounds haven't even healed yet."

Barty rolled his eyes. "Oh, my wounds!" he yelled, falling back dramatically, calling unwanted attention to your little corner of the common room. "She's wounded me! With her love!" You clamped a hand over his mouth, and he playfully bit your palm, earning a squeal from your lips. "When will you learn, Sugar?" He caged you against the cushions, ignoring the stares in your direction. "I would do anything for you. I'd bleed myself dry if it pleased you. These 'wounds,'" he mocked, "are a badge of honor. They're proof I provide for my best girl."

Your stomach was full of butterflies, and you felt lightheaded at his words. He was so close that you could hear his pulse thrumming beneath his warm skin, inviting your canines to lengthen. "Use me," he whispered against the shell of your ear. "I'm yours to use as you please."

"Let's go to my room, then."