The journey from Ashford Meadow to King’s Landing had been long and grueling, but for Ser Duncan the Tall—a simple hedge knight—it was nothing compared to the pressure of walking through the grand halls of the Red Keep. The air was thick with the weight of power, and the walls seemed to hum with the echoes of centuries of intrigue. Duncan felt out of place, his broad shoulders barely fitting through the narrow doorways, his patched cloak and plain armor a stark contrast to the polished elegance of the lords and ladies that passed him by.

Egg, or rather Aegon Targaryen, strode confidently at his side, his bald head gleaming under the soft glow of the torches. The boy had grown used to playing the role of a squire, but here, within his family’s seat of power, there was no hiding who he truly was. And yet, it wasn’t Egg’s presence that had Dunk's stomach tied in knots.

It was her.

Princess Targaryen.

The first time Duncan had seen her at Ashford Meadow, he hadn’t known who she was. Clad in red and black, with her pale, perfect complexion, silver hair, and lilac eyes, she had looked every bit the ethereal figure out of a song. But what struck Dunk most was the way she carried herself—not with arrogance or entitlement, as many highborn women did, but with a sweet grace and an intensity that unnerved him.

He’d tried to avoid her since then, but somehow, she always found him. In the crowded lists, in the quiet corners of the castle grounds, even at the edges of the feast halls, her gaze had a way of finding him, making him feel simultaneously exposed and unworthy. He told himself it was nothing, just a Targaryen princess indulging in idle curiosity over a hedge knight. But when her smile lingered a moment too long, when her lilac eyes held his own with a challenge he couldn’t decipher, he began to wonder if there wasn’t something more to it.