ser john the fiddler (daemon ii blackfyre) and ser duncan the tall: a compilation
“I would love to cross swords with you, ser. I’ve tried men of many lands and races, but never one your size. Was your father large as well?”
“Perchance we’ll meet again someday. I hope so. I should love to try my lance on you.”
He gave Dunk an enigmatic smile. “I dreamed of you, Ser Duncan. Before I even met you. When I saw you on the road, I knew your face at once. It was as if we were old friends.”
“Why,” the Fiddler said, “I dreamed that you were all in white from head to heel, with a long pale cloak flowing from those broad shoulders. You were a White Sword, ser, a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard, the greatest knight in all the Seven Kingdoms, and you lived for no other purpose but to guard and serve and please your king.” He put a hand on Dunk’s shoulder. “You have dreamed the same dream, I know you have.”
“Every boy dreams of serving in the Kingsguard.”
“Only seven boys grow up to wear the white cloak, though. Would it please you to be one of them?”
“Me?” Dunk shrugged away the lordling’s hand, which had begun to knead his shoulder. “It might. Or not…It makes no matter what I dream. Only a king can make a Kingsguard knight.”
“I suppose that means I’ll have to take the throne, then. I would much rather be teaching you to fiddle.”
“Wonderfully drunk. Wine makes all things possible, Ser Duncan. You’d look a god in white, I think, but if the color does not suit you, perhaps you would prefer to be a lord?”
“Where are you going, ser?”
“To my bed, to sleep. I’m drunk as a dog.”
“Be my dog, ser. The night’s alive with promise. We can howl together and wake the very gods.”
“What do you want of me?”
“Your sword. I would make you mine own man, and raise you high. My dreams do not lie, Ser Duncan…”
“Gormy,” the Fiddler drawled. “Why, what are you doing in my bedchamber, my lord?”
“It is a roof, ser, and you have had too much wine.” Lord Gormon made a sharp gesture, and the guards moved forward. “Allow us to help you to that bed. You are jousting on the morrow, pray recall. Kirby Pimm can prove a dangerous foe.”
“I had hoped to joust with good Ser Duncan here.”
Peake gave Dunk an unsympathetic look. “Later, perhaps. For your first tilt, you have drawn Ser Kirby Pimm.”
“Up on the roof last night, you said some things…”
“Wine makes me talk too much, but I meant every word. We belong together, you and I. My dreams do not lie.”
