fanfiction safe space

His first swim had been unplanned. Clumsy feet dumped him headlong into an aqueduct on the edge of the slum in Flea Bottom, and Dunk had sunk like a stone. He still remembered kicking his feet and waving his arms, the surface of the brackish water drifting further from his frantic reach with every suffocating instant. His chest had been ready to burst, then rough fingers found his hair and pulled hard.

Dunk breached the surface and came face to face with an irritated passerby, whom Rafe had begged to fish him out. Rafe hadn't known how to swim either, but that didn't stop her from smacking him on the back of the head and demanding to know what was wrong with him. From that day on, Dunk hadn't strayed into strange waters further than his ankles.

Deft fingers unfastened the burlap cloak from his shoulders, and when they moved to the knot at his tunic, he realized she was undressing him. He startled, raising his hands in alarm, "What are you doin'?!"

"The more clothes you have on, the harder it is to swim," She mused, glancing first at his waving hands, then to his flushed cheeks.

She wore only a light shift now herself. The color of cream and edged with simple lace, it stopped at her mid-thigh. Dropping his gaze to a particularly interesting pebble, he tried to steady his hammering heart, "This is hardly appropriate, m'lady! That is, a man and a woman undressing together."

"Stop trying to weasel out of your lesson! Besides, I'm no lady, Ser Duncan. You can stop pretending," She rolled her eyes, "But I am the only person you know who can swim."

Duncan opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off cleanly.

"Besides, Egg. And you're not going to ask him to teach you."

"W-Well," Dunk tried to conjure up another excuse and failed, "I'm not a babe, I can undress myself!"

"Then get to it!" She dropped the loose ties of his tunic and turned, hurrying toward the water's edge. A splash, and the crystalline water rippled, parting smooth and cool at her feet.

In just his braies—A clean pair, thank the Seven!—Dunk watched her wade fearlessly into the lake, until the water bunched the fabric of her shift at her thighs. Golden rays of light reflected off the water, illuminating her in a warm glow. She became heavenly under the sun, reminiscent of otherworldly nymphs. The ones in children's tales, who lured passerby to their watery graves, and when she turned, reaching out to him with one outstretched hand, Dunk understood why those dimwitted men in the stories jumped so eagerly to their deaths.

Cool water kissed his ankles before he could think twice, and the pull of her hand drew him deeper. Fear churned his stomach, but he tried not to show it. Soon, the water lapped at his midbelly, and higher still for her.

"Let's stop here," She squeezed his hand firmly, then let it free in the water to gesture, "It gets deeper, just there."

"Should we turn around?" Duncan worried, his brow furrowed.

She snorted, "Don't be silly. It's perfect!"

Dunk stared at her, waiting for an explanation, certain that he looked as thick as an old oak tree without any of the wisdom.

She sighed as if it should have been obvious, "You'll still be able to reach the bottom, just wade in a bit further."

"W-why just me?!" Dunk felt his heart pounding, and he struggled to hear her voice over his memories of water rushing past his ears.

"It will be too deep for me, but it will be easier for you to float in deeper water," Unusually, her face showed no signs of mischief, but Dunk still hesitated. He avoided eye contact, his hands wringing together just over the water as he tried to keep his breathing steady.

She watched him for a moment, gaze narrowed. When she spoke again, her voice was low with surprise, "Is our brave Hedge Knight afraid of swimming?"

"Of course not!" Duncan scoffed.

"Oh, good! Then, you'll have no problem going deeper."

His face slackened, stunned. If Dunk didn't move, he'd have to admit to being petrified of a measly pond. Worse still, she'd never let him hear the end of it. Still staring daggers at him, she searched for any chink in his metaphorical armor. Pebbles dug into the flats of his feet as he shifted nervously. Dunk jumped when a warm touch stilled his worrying hands.

Her voice came softer, "Trust me, Dunk, I'll be right behind you. Just here, where it is still shallow enough for me to stand."

Dunk nodded, sweat gathering at the nape of his neck despite the cool lapping of the water. When he stepped forward, the pebbled bottom wasn't where he expected it to be. Yelping, he slipped deeper into the lake and immediately began to flounder.

"Dunk!" She surged forward to grip his shoulders, "Just stand up!"

He thrust his feet down and found his footing. Just as she promised, the water line lapped at his chest. Dunk went bright red, "Oh."

"What was that about not being afraid?" Barely restrained humor lilted her words.

"I didn't lie," He looked down, shaggy hair barely hiding his embarrassment, "It's not swimming I'm afraid of, it's the water."

For a long moment, neither spoke nor moved. Birds sang overhead, and the reflections of bright white clouds swam across the placid pond. Dunk's stomach flipped, certain that she thought him a coward now. He considered wading back out of the lake and walking back to camp, dripping with shame. Meanwhile, she regarded him thoughtfully, chewing on the side of her cheek in that telltale way.

She had a plan. Dunk cringed.

"The best way to conquer a fear is to face it head-on," She assured him, keeping a steady hand on his shoulder, "You're already doing great."

He looked up, surprised, "I am?"

"You are!" She grinned back at him, "And now you're going to learn to float."

"W-what do I do?"

"Turn around," She instructed, guiding Dunk to face the opposite direction. He tried to steady the rise and fall of his chest, missing the calm of her eyes. The water was beginning to feel like walls closing in, trapping him. A splash signaled her moving closer, and her hands found his shoulder blades, "Lean back into my hands until your feet leave the ground."

He shuddered out a breath and closed his eyes. She murmured whispers of assurance, like Dunk had taught her to do with the horses.

Did he look so much like a frightened horse? The thought sent his cheeks flaring red once again.

He began to lean back. At first, it felt like she wasn't going to be able to catch him. Dunk felt that familiar falling sensation and fought the urge to flail.

"Good," She whispered into his ear, and he stilled, "Just a little more."

When his feet left the scummy pebbles of the bottom, there was only a moment of heart-pounding free fall before her arms slid under his shoulders. She supported him easily with the help of the water. Water sloshed at his ears, and panic rose in his chest. Dunk winced despite himself.

"Be calm," She instructed, "Spread out your limbs and take a deep breath."

Dunk did as she said and gasped quietly when the water lifted him. Suddenly buoyant, he opened his eyes to the harsh glare of the sun and found her grinning down at him.

"You did it! You're floating!" She exclaimed, and they laughed together. Hers was boisterous and excited, and his was nervous but pleased.

"Good, now, concentrate on this feeling."

A lopsided grin on his face, Dunk closed his eyes again, focusing on his task of floating. It was unlike anything he'd felt before—Weightless in the languid movement of the lake. For the first time in his life, he felt small, encompassed by the vastness of the water around him, and it wasn't frightening. It was surrender.

Then, he realized that the way she held him meant the top of his head gently bobbed against her chest. He jolted, willing away the flush that threatened to move down his body. Dunk needed to find a distraction quickly.

He stuttered out the first question that came to mind, "How did you learn to swim?"

"Oh, uh," Her tone flattened, losing the enthusiasm from earlier, "My father taught me."

Dunk hummed, imagining a father and daughter bonding over a day of summer fun, "That must've been nice."

"Yeah," Her voice was clipped, and Dunk realized that somewhere along the way he had mispoke.

One eye peered open. She watched the distance blankly, thoughts somewhere far away. The noon sun cast a harsh shadow over her features, partially obscuring his view.

"I only meant," He felt himself lose buoyancy, and took another deep breath, rising again in the water, "If it was anything like this, then—Then, it must've been nice!"

"Yes," She agreed flatly, "It would have been nice."

Dunk fought the urge to bring his arms back in and wring his hands together. They were quiet again, but his head was loud, trying to determine what to say to make things right.

"I'm sorry—"

"Never mind that," She interrupted, "Now, you'll float by yourself."

"What?" Dunk exhaled completely, alarm quickly filling his chest.

"It's fine, Ser Duncan, you're ready to do it on your own."

Her hands slipped away before he could object. Left unmoored, his head submerged until water tickled the rims of his eyes, and the fear in his belly became too much to swallow. His legs bent, and the weightless feeling disappeared. Dunk sank. The water closed around him, and he was a boy again, drowning in the dark aqueduct. Water shot up his nose, and he wanted to scream. Distantly, he heard his companion yelling over his clamoring, but Dunk was too afraid to listen. He thrashed wildly. One arm paddled uselessly through the cool water, and the other hit something solid.

She had hurried to steady Dunk again, but did not account for the fear that controlled him. He wrapped a vice grip around her wrist and pulled himself up, hard. The force sent her slipping beneath the water's surface as Dunk pushed himself up for air, and now the bottom of the lake was out of her reach. Taking a heaving, hacking breath and kicking desperately, he was barely aware of the body that struggled beneath him.

"Stand!" Her face briefly broke the surface before sinking again.

Dunk's gaze darted around hysterically. All he could see was the water around him, and all he could think about was how he was so far from land. Nails dug fiercely into his bicep, scratching red welts down his arm as she pulled herself up again. Her legs kicked more skillfully than his, enough to keep them bobbing at the surface, but his size kept her anchored beneath him.

"Just stand," She croaked, choking on water, "Dunk, please!"

She dipped back beneath the water, but her frightened cries had cracked through the wall of fear. With a clearer head, Dunk extended his legs and found the shifting lake bottom again.

It was then that he realized what he'd done.

Dunk wasted no time in gathering her into his arms and pulling her up from the depths with all his strength. She sputtered, desperate for air, but water burned in her throat. With her pressed to his chest, Dunk pushed for the shore. The water did not slow him as he ran.

"Seven fucking hells," He gasped, "Forgive me."

When the water stopped at his ankles, he collapsed with her to the shoreline. Her slip clung to her form, the fabric now limp and transparent. Dunk hardly noticed, too distracted by how she shivered against him. Her arms were leaden at her sides, too heavy with exhaustion to lift herself. Rivulets of water ran down her cheeks, red with exertion, and he clumsily wiped them away with his thumbs.

"I'm a fool," He bit, furious with himself, "An utter fool."

She coughed again, shaking her head. He knew that she was upset with him, so Dunk continued his tirade of self-flagellation.

"There's something wrong with me, I didn't mean to, I swear it—"

"Are you—" She tried to speak, but her garbled words turned into a wretch. A small geyser of lake water burst from her lips, and Dunk flinched. She wheezed another breath, looking frustrated.

"An idiot, yes, I know, I'm just an—"

"No," She rasped, then dissolved into a coughing fit.

"No?" He froze in confusion.

Eyes fluttering blearily, she lifted her head to look at him, "Are you okay?"

Dunk blinked down at her, bewildered as shaking hands cupped his face. Gingerly stroking the line of his jaw, she searched for any sign he was unwell. A strange emotion was hidden in the purse of her lips. It reminded him of those brief morning moments when Ser Arlan would wake, head-poundingly sober, and the memories he ran from briefly caught up with him. Then, he'd call for Dunk to bring him the wineskin.

"It's my fault," She breathed, beginning to sound like herself again, "I pushed you too quickly."

"You didn't. I should've—" Dunk tried to argue with her, to take the blame back, but he couldn't think of how. He wanted to wipe the worry from her face, but settled for warming her arms with his hands, "It's alright."

"It's not!" Voice raised, frustration was clear in her tone. She stopped herself, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opened them again, the pain seemed further away: "I should've let you decide when you were ready."

One of her hands had slipped to the nape of his neck, her nimble fingers carding through the mess of hair. With their chests flush together, Dunk became acutely aware of the pound of her heart through the soft press of her breast. The tangle of their legs felt suddenly intimate, and the way her slip rode up her thighs, threatening to expose her ass, sent his heart racing.

"I'm sorry, Dunk."

Her gentle touch, her kind words, it was all overwhelming. It was like the time he'd stumbled into a Tyroshi merchant caravan and broken a vase. Not a single soul had spoken in the common tongue, and he'd ended up running away. Just like then, Dunk knew she was speaking to him, but it was foreign.

All he really understood was that he wanted her closer.

Mind fuzzy and unsure what else to do, Dunk tilted his head down and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and tasted of uncertainty, but that didn't stop the low moan it pulled from his lips. Dunk stopped dead. A flush heated his cheeks and quickly spread to his neck, then chest. He pulled away, and for a short moment, they stared dumbfounded at each other. Dunk began stammering a string of unintelligible apologies, but he didn't get the chance to go on for long.

Her open mouth crashed into his, and Dunk made a shameful, strangled sound, half surprise, half pleasure. He expected her to pull away and taunt him. Instead, she responded eagerly, scrambling to straddle his lap. Dunk's grasp tightened awkwardly on her upper arms as she pressed into him. She kissed him hungrily, arms wrapping around his neck and urging him closer.

Dunk had kissed before, but never like this. Adrenaline still burned in his veins, feeding the flame of his desire until he ached with it. He felt oafish and inexperienced. Tempered by shyness, Dunk pulled away.

"What's wrong?" She breathed.

"I don't—" Dunk hesitated, "I don't want to ruin it."

"Ruin what?"

"This," His gaze lingered curiously on the way she chewed the inside of her cheek again, but was quickly distracted by her kiss-swollen lips, "Whatever this is. Please, don't let me ruin it."

She leaned closer, her lips grazing his jaw as she whispered, "And if I want you to?"

It might've been the gravel in her voice, or the dark light in her eyes, but Dunk seized her hips and rolled until she was pinned beneath him. One calloused hand glided down her thigh, caught the divot of her knee and brought it to notch at his hip. Dunk claimed her mouth, oblivious to the triumphant smile that had spread across her face.

They groaned together, his tongue slipping hot against hers. Dunk was panting and wild. The anxious voyeur of his mind had gone, and he thought only of the woman he held in his arms. Only the thin fabric of their wet smallclothes separated them, and he forgot himself. Dunk rolled his hips.

She gasped, her head dropping back at the sensation of him rigid and burning against her. His mouth left her lips and found her neck, where he trailed wet kisses from her earlobe to the slope of her shoulder. Each kiss tasted of spring water and amber. He rolled his hips again and the sweet friction made him dizzy.

"So good," She exhaled, palming at the corded muscles of his back, "You're so good."

Her words rang like sept bells in his ears and Dunk's hips jolted abruptly. Stars burst behind his fluttering eyelids and he whined into her neck, stock still aside from his twitching cock spilling into his braies. The pleasure was all encompassing. It felt like floating, like surrender.

A quiet call of his name brought Dunk down from his climax.

"Dunk," She asked, "Did you—"

He jumped from her as if she had become a bed of hot coals. A conspicuous stain formed on his braies as he stammered, "No! I mean—Yes! Gods, I'm so—"

"Ser?" A young voice called from the treeline, and Dunk considered that death might be a preferable option to whatever seventh hell he was currently living in. Not wanting Egg to know he couldn't swim, Dunk hadn't told him of their lesson, instead choosing to let him believe they had gone out to gather kindling for the night's fire—A task that wouldn't take more than an half an hour. It had surely been longer than that now.

Wide eyed, they scrambled for their clothes. Dunk wiggled into his trousers and she slipped her dress over her head. When Egg stepped into view they were both decent, but still frazzled and dripping wet. Egg's discerning stare darted between the pair, then to the pond, then back to the shirtless knight.

"A pond is…a rather strange place to gather kindling," Egg wondered, deadpan but with mischief gleaming in his eyes.

"Oi!" Red as a hawthorn berry, Dunk deflected poorly, "Quiet, before you earn a clout to the ear!"

"Sorry, Ser," The boy demurred, "It's just that Sweetfoot has a stone fixed in her hoof, and she only allows you near when she's hurting."

Huffing, Dunk gathered his belongings and stomped back toward camp without lacing up his boots, "Well, why didn't you just say so!"

They watched Dunk storm off, muttering under his breath the whole way. Once the hedge knight was out of earshot, Egg turned to appraise her as she stood on wobbly legs. A twig stuck haphazardly from her hair.

"Why is your dress backwards?" Egg quipped.

She replied coolly, "I'm trying something new, Egg."

"And how is that working out for you?"