Always satisfied with the best

The stableboy had a tight hold on Lady, gripping the reins a mere inch or two from the bit. The boy was obviously terrified of the animal, as most of the grooms and squires were, but was evidently more afraid of displeasing a prince than he was of the horse. Lady had little enough work since Baelor left for Ashford Meadow, having been left behind in Kings Landing with nobody able to manage the animal, and as such was quite fresh, and even more excitable than usual. She pranced circles around the groom, occasionally pausing to snap her teeth at the boy, shaking her head and snorting. It would be nothing for Baelor to grab a bit of mane and jump onto his mount; he could do as much fully armored, and today he wore only simple breeches and doublet, but as he was about to do so he saw Ser Duncan enter the stables, and a different idea crossed his mind.

“Ser Duncan,” Baelor called. The man seemed surprised to be addressed, and looked up sharply at the sound of his name. “A hand, if you would be so kind.”

This was folly of the worst sort Baelor knew, and yet some part of his mind was quietly excited by the opportunity.

Ser Duncan hastened over, eyeing the mare warily as he approached, “Your Grace,” he greeted, for a moment Baelor thought he might go to one knee; he often erred on the side of formality, and was quick to show deference, but after a seconds hesitation he seemed to decide to keep his feet.

“I find I don't jump quite as well as I used to,” Baelor said, lying, “Would you mind terribly giving me a leg?” It was a groom's task, and not needed besides, but he knew Ser Duncan was always eager to serve. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Ser Donnel and Ser Roland, who were already mounted on their own horses, exchanging a look that Baelor did not think entirely innocent.

If Ser Duncan thought anything strange of the request he did not show it. “Of course,” he replied.

“Best be quick about it then, she won't be patient,” Baelor said. He went to the mare's side, the stableboy managing to hold her still, and bent one leg. Ser Duncan followed, grabbed him by the knee, and hoisted him onto the horse. Baleor had only made a small effort at jumping, letting Ser Duncan do most of the work, and was not disappointed. He could've thrown me clear over the side of her, if he wanted to, Baelor thought as he took a tighter hold of his reins. It was oddly thrilling to imagine. As she was prone to do, Lady trotted off the second Baelor was in the saddle, but he wheeled her sharply around so that he could face Ser Duncan. He made little effort to disguise the way his eyes wandered over the knight, appraising; he still bore traces of a harder life, a bit thin, lacking in muscle, and carrying himself like he was afraid he would be tossed out onto the street at any moment. Once he is properly fed and trained though, he will be quite something, Baelor thought.

“Come ride with me Ser,” Baelor found himself saying, and at this Ser Duncan was plainly shocked, his eyebrows shooting up, his jaw dropping. He stood mutely for a moment, and Baelor tacked on, “If you aren't otherwise committed.”

“No, I mean, I’m not. Otherwise committed, that is,” Ser Duncan stuttered, then settled, “It would be a privilege.” The man was blushing, color bright on his cheeks, making the blue of his eyes seem even brighter.

“Have the grooms ready your horse, and meet us at the gate, I best get this one moving,” Baelor said. Lady had started pawing savagely at the ground, pulling up large clods of dirt. Dunk went off to fetch his horse, and Baelor gave Lady a small touch of spur to move off towards where the Kingsguard were waiting.

He had hardly reached them when Ser Donnel said “Should I send for a maester, Your Grace?” For reasons inexplicable to Baelor, this was apparently quite humorous to Ser Roland, who turned his horse away to hide his amusement.

“A maester? What for?” Baelor asked.

the thumbs for each of these because i think theyre fun and my favourite wip