#papa!dunk

dunk was spent beside you, snores soft against your head, and your arm curled around your middle. the day had been long; miles stretched endlessly ahead as you traveled east. you slept most of the way, pressed into his back as your babe reveled in the warmth between you.

it painted the picture now—knight and squire fast asleep, while you and your little giant were wide-eyed and quiet.

“look at the moon, my love,” you whispered, gaze set upon the babe beside you. he was wrapped in heavy cloth, securing him as you brushed his hair from his forehead. he was close enough for you to see every breath he took and hear every little noise that slipped from his lips.

“it’s full tonight, and it watches over us.”

the babe cooed, gazing up between scarce leaves as you pointed up at the night sky.

“the stars shine so bright…my father used to tell me all babes born under the moon have a star to their name. perhaps when we die, that star may return to us.”

you looked back down, just to find him watching you. those eyes that belonged to his father, bright and blue, sought for you as if you’d hung the moon.

leaning down, you kissed his nose. his leg underneath the cotton kicked.

“i do not believe it is so,” you continued, just as dunk shifted. his head came to yours, his nose right against your ear with a content sigh. and still, he was left in another world.

“you are my little star, watching and guiding your father to make me whole. waiting all these years to come down so you could finally be with us.”

your babe, such a quizzical thing, reached for your hand. he was too young to understand, but you thought otherwise. a part of him must’ve understood, because it was true, wasn’t it?

the thought of him, fragments of his soul, had been one of the many stars among the moon. he was where he was meant to be, right under your adoring gaze.

“how many more of you wait?” you hummed, bringing a finger to his nose. his skin, so soft and perfect, felt like silk. even his hands, which grasped your finger to hold, were a dream peeling itself to be made real. “or is it just you, my love?”

he smiled at you, a small, happy noise emitting from him. again, his leg kicked, and you had to shush him before dunk awoke.

“it does not matter,” you whispered, a hint of a smile upon your lips. “one or more, nothing could make me happier. for us, you shine bright enough.”

you kissed his hand—once, twice, thrice—and held him beneath the twinkling stars.

another papa!dunk mini series(?) mayhaps…

it was a peculiar thing, the way dunk always looked at you.

in the rowdier moments, the children always caught how his gaze drifted to you. the pull was constant and everlasting. dunk could go on for eternity watching you, admiring you, and every little thing you did without blinking. to their little minds—especially the twins—it was a gift.

a gift only their father could possess, because who else deserved to look at their mother that way?

well, it wouldn't hurt to try.

morning settled over the small cottage with a gentle breeze. you were already up, always going toe to toe with egg on who rose first. rafe and arlelle were old enough to shuffle out of their rooms on their own. the twins still needed your soft words and coaxing touch, though. they followed every morning in tandem, enraptured by your presence as you led them to the hearth.

with your back turned enough to conceal their big blue eyes, they took the chance to watch you. no blinking, no movement. no matter how bad one wanted to rub his eye, or the other wanted to shuffle over to grab onto your skirt, they stayed still.

they had toys they could play with. little wooden dragons and knights they could slam into the rug until you asked them to be polite. or, they could explore together, mapping out the home you and dunk had so fiercely built for them and their siblings.

no, they wanted to experience the unwavering love they saw when their father looked at you. he was obvious, and he was hopeless, and it was simply one more reason why you loved him so. dunk didn’t cower when it came to affection. neither would his children.

they were eerily focused until a soft chuckle rumbled from behind them.

“what are you two doing?” dunk stepped closer, his knees planting onto the rug as he scooped the pair into his arms. “little giants, staring at…”

his gaze fell onto you, and the words died as his smile softened. it was comical, a man his size melting at the mere sight of you.

“good morning, m’love,” he muttered, further softening when you turned and came over. you bent down to kiss his nose, although his lips caught your chin before you could pull back.

one of the twins reached out, his chubby fingers catching your sleeve in an attempt to make you stay. the other tilted his head back, now staring at the fool you made of his father.

they tried again at supper and during playtime by the oak tree. when they noticed their father going still, they'd copy. when he dumbly blinked and watched, they tried to do the exact same.

it took a week for you to notice.

you were patching egg's arm when the twins wobbled over, guiding each other over to sit nearby. they were curious about his scrape, you thought, and you smiled at them. sweet little trees, they were.

except every time you glanced over, they were stuck in motion. their gazes were wide and focused, just the way dunk would look at you.

it was cute for the first ten minutes. then it grew to be strange.

"...what's happened?" you asked, unable to hide the caution in your tone. the better question was: what did you do?

the twins didn’t answer.

egg reached over to wave a hand in their faces, but they remained as they were.

“…dunk!” you called out, unsure if you were taken by their cute faces or completely unnerved.

“yeah? yes?!” his voice carried from outside.

“come quick!”

his footsteps were heavy as he came through the opened door. he was feeding the horses and maester, eggs mule, with rafe and arlelle.

“what is it, dove?” he come to you, taking a look at the twins and his squire.

“look at them.”

“hmmm?”

dunk turned to the twins, and finally, they looked away from you. he placed his hands on his hips, unsure of what he was looking for.

“they’re as stiff as boards, ser,” egg spoke up. it earned him a furrowed brow, but no one challenged his claim.

“they’ve been like this for a long time.” you explained with a sigh. “they haven’t moved. they keep staring at egg and i.”

and without fail, one twin turned back to you. the other smiled at dunk, registering your words as truth.

“…they like looking at you,” dunk planted a hand on one of their heads, his own smile tugging across his lips. “you’re a pretty sight.”

while it made your cheeks burn, that wasn’t the explaination you wanted. “that’s not...”

“they like watching their mother, that’s all.”

before you could argue, one of the boys reached for you. he cooed, stretching with all his might until you picked him up into your arms. he nuzzled into you, content in your arms.

dunk groaned as he entered your shared bedroom, his elbow high in the air as he rubbed the soreness between his shoulders. getting the children to bed always took its toll, especially when they grew rowdy after supper. if one child wasn’t jumping onto his back, then another was pulling at his legs until he met them eye to eye.

it was fun, but he was exhausted, and all he could think about was getting to hold you through the night.

“gods, i feel…”

the words died in his throat. dunk’s eyes widened, his lips parted in pleasant shock at the sight of you in your small clothes. you wore a cloak—his cloak—around your shoulders for caution. had a little giant run-in, you wouldn’t be caught nearly exposed.

“what’re…” he coughed, attempting not to seem so taken by your appearance. dunk couldn’t control himself, even after four children and years at your side. you could easily melt every bone in his body. “what’re you doing, dove?”

you didn’t answer right away. your gaze lingered on yourself in the mirror. it was an old, rusted thing that dunk had picked up some time ago. ever since he brought it in with a bashful grin, you found yourself standing still almost every night. you stared at yourself, tracing the body you were given, a body that carried four babies.

“i used to be beautiful,” you whispered.

the thought had been a constant. the proof of motherhood was not lost upon your skin. you carried the scars, the growth within your hips. no longer did you recognize your body.

part of you admired it. here, for you to forever have, were the changes made by love. every child you bore was a product of precious, gentle love shared between you and the hedge knight at your side.

and yet, part of you loathed it.

“what?” he moved closer, his footsteps slow. “used—used to? no….no, what’re you saying?”

his hands found your arms, his lips found your ear to kiss.

“it's not true,” he murmured, nose nuzzling behind your ear. “you’re so beautiful, gods…so beautiful…”

"a matter of opinion," you argue, but it was a poor attempt.

"a fact." dunk huffed, "an honest, beautiful fact."

dunk scooped you up, taking you by surprise. you gasp as he carries you off to bed, his arms locking you in a heated embrace until he lays you down. his cloak had concealed you completely, covering the shame you felt underneath him.

“dunk.” you weakly protested, “it wasn’t—“

his hands pushed at his cloak, exposing you little by little. he began at your throat, kissing over your skin again and again. your breath hitched, eyes hyper-focused on the beams that lined the ceiling as he descended.

“the gods…” he spoke reverently against your skin, “have perfected you…with every babe…”

your grip tightened as he reached your stomach. he didn’t hesitate, his lips touching your tummy in desperate worship. there was not an inch he missed, not a length of skin he cowered from.

dunk was not one to shy away from loving your body. not since your first pregnancy, when your stomach rounded and your breasts swelled. you were something unknown to the world, a creature so soft and strong…

his vision grew misty at the mere thought of it. to know you didn’t see yourself that way, to hear you curse yourself for changes he found precious, was too much to handle.

“you’re a fine thing, m’love,” he spoke against your hip. gods, he loved your hips. more for him to hold and to caress.

a choked laughed bubbled up, carrying over to his ears as the tears fell from the corners of your eyes. “dunk…”

he kissed your side. then the other.

“i love you,” a kiss below your navel. “i love you, dove…”

Dunk is trying his hand at disciplining Arlelle, something the reader is better at because the little girl makes dunk too weak. But since the reader isn’t around for whatever reason, he really tries to stand his ground until arlelle throws a tantrum and says “I hate you!” Cue dunk crying in readers lap after the kids go to bed that night because his little girl hates him.

“i hate you!”

arlelle, so young and so little, had never screamed with such anger. she shook; her eyes glossed over by tears that made it difficult to run off. the world ceased to exist, and all dunk could see was the stumbling form of his upset daughter.

dunk couldn’t remember the rest.

he didn't want to hurt her. it was difficult, though, not having you close to reinforce his decisions. you had split the children for the evening, for the twins had been more than needy to have your attention. they were still babes, two mountains that fretted every waking moment you weren't in their sights.

to make good on his word, he handled the walking giants. rafe was easy enough to handle, and he'd kept himself entertained as dunk tried to talk to arlelle. she had gone to take the last sweet tart at the table, which dunk had been saving for you, and ate it quietly underneath. when he'd found her, she was a mess of blueberry jam.

"i told you," he kept his voice quiet. "that was not yours to have."

arlelle pouted, her tongue sticking out to lick the jam from the corner of her mouth. "i was still hungry..."

"there was still beef in the pot."

"i didn't want beef—“

dunk breathed in deep, his jaw clenching as he tried to keep himself from crumbling. you told him to be firm, to not be so lenient on her. it would only punish himself and her somewhere along the line.

"then you weren't hungry. you were selfish."

"was not!"

"you were," he rose from his knee. dunk loomed over her, and she was shadowed by his disappointment. "i'll have no more insolence—“

"i hate you!"

now, he was kneeled at your bed, his head heavy on your lap as he recounted what had happened. you had to go to her after she went to her room, because dunk was in no state to see her. nor was she; arlelle hid under her blankets, sobbing and squirming when you first attempted to calm her. it was a tiring task, but you managed to get her to lay properly and tuck her in.

for tonight, that was enough. she would be properly dealt with on the morrow.

"she hadn't meant it," you whispered, your hands combing through his hair. "duncan, you know she could never feel such a way."

dunk couldn't find it in him to respond. he'd been all choked up when you came back, and he looked completely lost. three reckless words had left him crumbled, and you knew there wasn't much you could do.

his hands tightened on you.

“my love…”

he pressed further into your thighs. had you not felt the dampness seep into your skirt, you would’ve blushed.

it hadn’t been right away but eventually dunk pulled himself up to wipe his eyes. he sniffled, and you lifted a hand under his chin to tilt his head up. he looked up at you, eyes red and puffy. you were struck by how handsome he was, even with wet cheeks and a runny nose.

“you are her world,” you murmured, and took a cloth from the nightstand to wipe his face. “and it’s not easy to hear your world become upset.”

“you…you told me…”

“yes, i did. had i known she’d say such a thing, i would’ve given you the twins.”

dunk swallowed, his voice hoarse. “but i ought to—to do better by her. you’re right…i am weak against her. and that hurts nobody more than her.”

as often as he admitted how right you were, it never failed to make you shiver. you bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself contained. “mmm-hm…”

gods, please, he’s vulnerable. don’t make me pounce on him now.

“you’ve always been better at handling her than i. least when she does wrong,” he shifted closer, still staying on his knees. “if she hates me now, what will happen if i must lecture her again?”

“she’ll realize your not a puppet, duncan. that is the truth of it.”

“a puppet.”

“yes, my love.”

“…aye,” he nodded once, his eyes still glassy. without warning, he stood and took one step towards the door before you grabbed his hand.

“where are you going?”

“i’m going to speak with her.”

“she’s asleep.”

dunk paused, having not considered that.

“…right,” he fell right back onto his knees. “as she should be, aye.”

you wanted to tell him to stand and get into bed, but one look at those big blue eyes softened you. perhaps he needed more time kneeling, face pressed down into you.

“on the morrow,” you told him gently. “you’ll speak with her.”

on the morrow. dunk could only imagine what the sun would bring. as long as he could string his heart together, then he’d have his little girl in his arms again. that, he was sure of.

i loved this so much, thank you anon! dw dw they’ll make up.

i’ll look after you;

the floorboards groaned underneath dunk’s boots. he made his way through the dark, having only the light that slipped through the door to guide him back to your bedroom. one little giant had been tucked into bed, and another waited past the oak.

he pushed the door open, finding you still laid with rafe curled into you. he’d been there all evening, vowing to stay by your side as you rested. days like these were never easy, your body working to begin anew all over again. he knew of your pain, your fatigue, and did all he could to make it more bearable.

“come now,” he came closer to the bed, reaching to take the boy into his arms. “your bed won’t wait for you all night.”

“awwwww, noo…”

“yes,” dunk carried him off, wanting to get rafe tucked snugly so he could return to you. it was easy to get arlelle down at night, yet her older brother was still tricky to work with. he needed more adjusting, you believed, and dunk thought he was too reliant on you.

before he could say more, rafe turned and reached out to you. it wasn’t in protest, nor was he fighting his father on the matter.

“i be back on the morrow, mama,” he murmured, admitting defeat with his big eyes. rafe had kept you company through the evening, distracting you as best he could from your cramps. he didn't understand why you were in pain, only that he wanted to help.

“try and rest, my love," you took his hand and offered a comforting smile. with a kiss to his fingertips, dunk carried him off to his separate bedroom.

“you take care of her?" you heard rafe ask, no doubt wanting a promise from his father.

"aye," dunk's voice was distant. "you don't need to worry none."

you closed your eyes, listening to the quiet words that faded away. the ache—insistent and harrowing—never seemed to cease. at least the little one was a anchor, but he needed his rest. you could not keep him all night.

and yet, the comforting thud of movement already began to ease you.

“dove?” dunk whispered, stepping back inside with careful steps.

your quiet whine came slow. “hmmmm?”

“good, you’re awake…no,” he chuckled lowly, “not good, i mean. you should be at rest. how’re you feeling?”

you opened your eyes, finding him in a state of undress. he’d taken off his tunic, and the bed dipped as he came to sit down. you reached to trace his lower back, fingertips ghosting over the heat of his skin.

“better,” you answered to some truth. “i don’t feel the need to vomit at every turn of the time…but seven hear me, the ache refuses to cease.”

"m'sorry, dove," dunk grunted, taking off his boots while he listened. “i made you that tea. did it help any?”

“yes, my love. i suppose it did.” although, you wanted to add: might you saw me in half to stop the tingling in my legs? then sew me together and make me new.

the words never left the tip of your thoughts.

with his boots off and only in his breeches, dunk got up and turned to pull back the covers. he slid into bed, immediately bringing himself close to you.

“gods,” he sighed, his body sagging into you as he kissed your temple. “missed you all day…”

you eased into him. he kissed your lips, then your cheek. “i’ve been here all day.”

dunk snorted and brought his hand to your stomach. he rubbed below your navel, massaging just as he knew you liked it. it was a slow drag, circular and warm.

a soft noise escaped you as the heat pressed in.

“you know what i meant,” he wrapped an arm around you, moving your body closer. all day he’d gone without you by his own fault. dunk asked you to stay in bed and let him handle the children and the chores. he tended to you every moment he could, until a little one wailed or the floor shook from something heavy falling over.

rafe and arlelle always kept you and your knight on your toes. that was for certain.

“it was too loud and too quiet all at once." dunk confessed, his nose nuzzling into the side of your head. "even when i could be here with you, that time wasn't nearly enough.”

“we have tiny beasts to tend to,” you murmured, turning your head just enough to find his eyes in the dark. “i don’t hold it against you."

"aye, i know, just..." dunk smiled—bashful as a boy and dumb as a man in love. “…want to take care of you all the time. during your moonblood or not, you deserve that sort of attention.”

your entire body flushed. it was almost enough to distract you from the slight nausea. “foolish you may be, ser…”

he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he tried not to tuck you in further and completely hide you away. “doesn’t really matter now, does it? m’here now, and i won’t let you go until the sun's fully risen. or until one of the little runt's cries..”

and dunk made good on that promise.

i’m BAAAAAAAACK.

thank you for the req, anon!! i hope this is what you were looking for, and it’s always a pleasure to write for papa!dunk/mama!reader. my favs <3

“that’s three…”

“no! four.”

“three.”

hidden behind the doorway to your bedroom, arlelle stood squished beside your little brother, aeon. the pair had been watching you and your hedge knight keep warm as the newest giant slept in your arms. she was a tiny thing, always wailing at odd hours of the night and suckling enough milk to hold her twice over.

at first, the children had been welcoming to the new edition. arlelle had asked to keep her—which made you laugh for the first time since the birth.

“of course we’re keeping her, love,” you had reached for her, exhausted and waiting for dunk to take the newborn from you. he was off tucking in the twins, who had just came to understand they had a little sister.

“oh…but can i keep her?” she blinked up at you, innocent and hopeful as you brushed her hair back. “she’d fit with my dollies, mama.”

“she’s not a toy, dearest.”

“can i make certain?”

“no.”

now, moons later, she watched every move made between her mama and papa. aeon was no help, not that she asked for him to join her cause. he was nearly four years old and either blind as a bat or stubborn as can be.

arlelle, on the other hand, knew what she was tallying. and the odds weren’t in their favor.

“four,” aeon squirmed, for somewhere in the cottage, talf was rolling around with ballad. cuddling with the cat had to be more fun than this, but the boy had a duty to protect, and that duty was his comfort.

arlelle huffed, “five.”

“they kiss four times now!”

“five!”

arlelle held herself back from pulling on his hair. the matter at hand was deadly serious. two more kisses, and that meant another babe. as cute as the things could be, the children were restless. they missed sleeping without a wailing babe from the other room. they missed screaming at one another and running rampant without risk of waking the little thing. the twins hadn’t been so needy when babes—not that arlelle could remember. rafe never once complained.

“aaaaa…now it’s five.” aeon whispered.

arlelle sprang out of their hiding place, stumbling into the room to stop the ritual. she went straight to your bed and grabbed at dunk, tugging on his tunic.

“papa? papa…”

“aye?” dunk turned, his voice hushed as his attention fell onto his little girl. “what is it, arlelle?”

the lie came easily enough. “tummy ache, papa.”

dunk never took the pain of his children lightly. with a nod, he turned back to you—and to arlelle’s horror—planted one more kiss upon your lips. the seventh.

arlelle’s face crumbled, and in her father’s eyes, it was a testament to the pain she was in. he got out of bed and scooped her up, leaving you with lynnea—and aeon, who was quietly telling himself that had been the sixth kiss.

aeon had been the first to speak at the table. he had bread stuffed in his mouth, but that did little to stop him and his efforts.

“stop kissing, please.”

dunk looked over, a massive bite of chicken stuffed in his mouth. his chewing slowed, and briefly, he didn’t know the plea was directed towards him.

“i like kisses,” talf immediately protested, half-understanding what was being told at the dinner table.

“what if papa sleeps with us?” arlelle commented, her mind heavy with the noises of a fussing babe. right now, lynnea was quiet. right now.

“we take turns with mama!” talf chirped.

rafe perked up, forcing down his food to speak. “i get first night. papa, you can have my bed.”

dunk turned to you, silently questioning what was going on.

“what’s this about kissing?” you reached for his hand, hoping to peel the layers to a conversation neither of you could comprehend.

“the seven kisses,” arlelle answered almost too confidently. “how you make a babe.”

the children all turned towards you and your love, waiting for confirmation on the matter. you blinked, taken aback by how sure they all were—even your little twins.

“…ah,” dunk cleared his throat. "well—no. no, lynnea is here."

"what about that one, papa?"

you blinked again, startled by arlelle's question. "there is no other, my love."

“yes there is!" she held her ground. "you and papa kissed seven times, and seven kisses makes a babe."

"hold on, now—“

“and you are tired all over again. and he feeds you all the time, and you lie in your bed all the time, and you threw up today. and—“

“alright,” you squeaked, horrified by her insight. “alright, yes, i understand…”

you peered down at your belly, taking in what didn't seem so imaginable. dunk leaned over, and the delicate curve of your dress was enough to know the truth behind their babbling.

that’s not possible. your moonblood was simply delayed. you had just had your little girl months prior; your body couldn’t handle another…could it?

dunk reached over, bringing his hand to smooth over the fabric. it was barely there, but he felt it.

“good gods,” he muttered, and unbeknownst to you, he felt awfully lightheaded. "dove...?"

you were to have a sixth.

cue dunk throwing up a day later cause he was NOT prepared for that. after five kids his stomach still gets all turned and flipped.

anyways i had about four drafts for this. spent the entire weekend on this one…guys you know what to do. like, share and subscribe ☝🏼 tell me your favorite part. this is my tumtube channel.

Dunkreaderlings - Rafe

synopsis; some info on my very original and dearest rafe :) genre; fluff pairing; ser duncan the tall/reader warnings; none! although if this contradicts anything i've implied/written before this...disregard it. timeline was nonexistent so here's the legitimate order of things. thank yooouu a/n; i love you so much ari it's not even funny 💞💞 this one is for you and all my papa!dunk truthers. this is the first of three(?) i was going to use this for all the babies, but i wanted each to have their own spotlight. next will be arlelle, the mystery knight.

word count; 1.6k

ps if anyone has ideas on what to name the twins please let me know. what do we think about aegon and baelor? too targaryen? lmk.

Rafe the Brave (Born 214 AC - )

The first of his kin, he is arguably the most like his father. He is kind, protective, and thoughtful, often leaning toward doing what's right despite all odds.

He's also the smallest to be born—weighing a little over five pounds and yet as loud as a horn. Under the oak tree, he wailed and squirmed until he was settled over your chest. Labor was unforgiving, and you trembled violently in Dunk's arms, but when you saw those blue eyes weeping for you, for comfort…it was love at first sight.

Rafe's first year of life was odd in comparison to his siblings. Although he may not remember, Rafe was a babe of the road. Most days, he spent bundled in a basket, shielded from the dirt and dust that kicked up along the way. He was easy to hide, and by the grace of the Gods, easy to manage.

"What?" Dunk chuckled all those nights ago, his smile widening the longer the babe stayed quiet. He was very much awake; his eyes stuck on the face of his father. "Should I burp you again?”

He waited for a response—anything, a coo, a hiccup, a twist in his face that told Dunk he had a few seconds before he wailed—yet he was given nothing. The babe only stared with drooping eyelids.

“Ah, right…”

Dunk laid Rafe back into his basket. More often than not, especially when the sun came down and the world grew quieter, he tended to get lost under the weight of the babe. He could talk and laugh for hours with the little one, because all he wanted to do was be close and know who his son would be come.

Rafe was a happy little thing, not much fuss unless he was hungry. For many moons, he slept among the inns and corners of Westeros, huddled with you, your knight, and his squire. But it couldn’t always be this way; you both knew.

A little after first nameday, Dunk managed to make a deal with a caravan he spent weeks protecting through their journey west. They would help build a home in the Riverlands for him and you as payment. This would give him somewhere to return to, and someplace where he knew you and Rafe would be safe.

Dunk and Egg were absent for most of Rafe's babe-to-toddler years. It wasn't easy to be away from the two of you, yet he still had a vow to uphold and a realm to serve. The life of knighthood had called upon him first, and you understood.

And you managed.

Early on...past the bursts of chaos Rafe subjected you to as a growing giant, you noticed he was quite reserved. He preferred the quiet, he preferred the calm of the vast land rather than the cities. Rafe didn't travel much from home unless it was necessary, and Dunk was more on edge with the little one out and about. The mere thought of losing sight of him or

When Arlelle came to the world, something within him shifted. He was gentler, quieter, and eager to help along the way. Even when Dunk was around, he'd stumble over with outstretched hands, ready to take on what couldn't be managed.

"Babe?" His little voice would carry near your skirts, "mama? Can...can I..."

His fingertips barely brushed against the wrap you tucked around her. She was so close, and so far, his sense of urgency was beginning to make him whine. He saw how much love you held in your gaze when you looked at her. He saw how his father was rendered speechless each and every moment she lay in his arms, tears would prickle at his eyes.

Rafe wasn't jealous. Not like many his age ought to be, because something smaller and noisier took his parents' attention most days.

No, he wanted to know the feeling. He wanted to feel the swell of affection that crossed your features when she cooed, or when she grasped your finger to bring to her lips.

"Mama?" Rafe tried again, his fingers curling around your skirt to tug.

"Aye, little giant," you cooed. "Keep your voice low."

"Sorry, mama."

You met him on his level, going eye to eye so he could look at her closely. She was chubby, that much no one could deny, and she seemed far too peaceful for lying in a pair of arms that she'd soon outgrow.

"Precious, isn't she?" You whispered.

Precious, the word made his head tilt to the side.

Rafe looked away from his little sister, his gaze following up and up until those bright blues settled onto you. "Am I precious, mama?"

"You," the punctuation came slow, "are the most precious thing in the world.”

“And…papa?”

“Papa’s precious, too.”

You settled the little girl into his arms, watching as he felt the weight of her for the first time. Rafe kept himself very still, nervous to even look anywhere else.

As the years went by, he grew more and more into his father. Physically and mentally. By the age of nine, he was no longer scared of the crowds of the cities. When Dunk held his head high, so did he. When Dunk bowed, Rafe fell right beside him.

Dunk tries to get him more into swordplay with no luck. Only when you begin training—because Dunk worries that if he’s gone and someone tries to bring you and the children harm, there’s no defense—does Rafe try.

Although strange, you and your little ones learn together. Rafe earns his first blade at ten (he began late; otherwise, Dunk would’ve spared him a sword much, much earlier.) It stays in his room, waiting for the chance to strike a foe.

Meanwhile, he spends his days out with his father and Egg. Or he’s out playing with his little sister and the twins, or he watches the world around him and carves into the wooden blocks Dunk buys from the mill that he passes by every now and then.

He often gives his creations to you and Dunk. When the twins were newly born, he carved the pair two dragons with the help of Egg. For Arlelle, she has a painted—she painted it, of course—carving of Maester the mule. These little pieces all reside in their own spaces, either on display or tucked away because they’re constantly played with.

While out traveling with his father, he soon gets his own horse to care for. He names the stallion Cork after the creature's loud neigh, and the clop of his hooves almost sounds like a pop to his ears. Both are young, and both ride ferociously.

Seeing him return home upon his own horse nearly made your heart beat out of your chest. He’s the spitting image of his father, closer to Dunk's shoulder than your skirts. It's as if the twins gained a handful of years and grew up too quickly. But that's your Rafe. Your fourteen-year-old boy who looked far beyond his years with a horse by his side.

"Where did this come from?" You came over, hands clutching the fabric that swayed around your waist to keep up with your steps. "Dunk, I asked you..."

"I got a good deal on her," Dunk threw his leg over Thunder, bringing his feet to the ground. "Didn't spend much, I swear."

He came to your side, his hands coming to your sides to pull you back a step. His lips came to the back of your head, "the boy needed a horse of his own."

"She's pretty, isn't she?" Rafe smiled down at you, and for a moment, you couldn't tell if Dunk had moved to sit upon the new steed or if that was your little giant. He was happy, and Dunk taught him young the value of a good horse. You knew she was in good hands.

"How much, Dunk?" You turned your head, your shoulder pressing into Dunk's chest as you looked to him. Rafe guided Cork off to the rest, to which Egg was tying Thunder and his own at the posts.

"We have the coin to spare, dove," Dunk murmured, his gaze filled only with love.

"I thought he was doing just fine riding with Egg."

"Egg was ready to shove him off."

"Well, I do not care if Egg is a boy grown. He—“

"It's alright," he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you to turn your back to his chest. "We have coin. It's not as it used to be."

Not as it used to be, that much is true. Coin wasn't sparse, and life had become easier over the years, even with children and the road Dunk rode along. With a quiet sigh, you relaxed into his hold.

"Yes," you agreed, taking one of his hands into your own. "I suppose that's true."

Rafe was bound to mature, and things were bound to always change. Yet you often thought of the days when you were still traveling the realm, a babe in your arms and Dunk constantly scouting for shelter. You remembered the first nights lying in your very own bed, Dunk's body curled over your own as Rafe slept in a proper cradle.

Now he towered over you. He was mindful of his growing strength. He did much on his own, and he still had compassion to think of others in everything he did.