jjkdoms
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“If I break my oath, even for you—” Dunk’s voice cracked. He thought of Ser Arlan’s face. Of Egg’s trust. Of everything he’d built himself to be. “What would that make me?”
“Mine.” Aerion’s fingers slid to the nape of Dunk’s neck, tangling in his hair. “It would make you mine.”
There are two kinds of distance between a common hedge knight and a Targaryen prince: the height that separates them, and the morality that should.