dragonborn

daughter of the dragon

[bladeoria]

liz     dragon enthusiast    knight lover   scorpio

introvert     antique hunter     girl of the sea

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘

gwayne hightower:

eternal shadow (fem!targaryen!oc x gwayne hightower)

accept the help, my love

a little impropriety series (fem!lucerys!reader x gwayne hightower): a little impropriety, whatever you want me to be

aemond targaryen:

marry me instead (former friend!reader x aemond targaryen)

[bladeoria]

my boy 😭😭😭 my boy PLEASE

why don’t you rip my heart out and step on it 😩

[bladeoria]

gwayne hightower x targaryen!princess!reader who absolutely despises him. I mean dagger to throat, will not under any circumstances let him bring her to the greens in peace hatred. she gets furious when he doesn’t fight back. he just stands there and smiles while she attacks him, knowing very well that he could take her out with one swift strike. which makes her rage with anger – that quickly turns into something else, when he pushes a strand of hair our of her forehead. softly. almost mockingly. “you’re striking when you’re angry. did you know that?” he whispers.

after that, it won’t be long before he tears down all her walls, until she’s finally writhing beneath him, whimpering his name. “this is what you needed, wasn’t it?” his voice in her ear, thrusting deep inside her. that is the moment when she straddles him, holding the dagger to his throat again, and satisfies herself while that stupid smirk won’t leave his face.

gwayne is right where he wants to be.

[bladeoria]

𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 | gwayne hightower

gwayne shows you that maybe – just maybe – you have a friend at the red keep. someone who you could trust and whose smile makes your knees all wobbly, even though you know better.

pairing: fem!lucerys!reader x gwayne

warnings: alicent is a meanie in this one, banter, fluff, romantic tension, gwayne is a cutiepie

part 1

You could hear it. The whispers in the Red Keep. Whispers of you and your dark curls – whispers of how you cut them all off.

Disrespectful, some of them hissed. 

A clear message to the queen dowager, others said snide. 

What they didn’t understand was that you cut your hair for yourself. Even if you had a little help doing it.

You gave a quick glance to Ser Gwayne, who was standing just a few feet from you, overlooking the Great Hall and all those who were present for the celebration of Jaehaeras nameday. His shoulders were tense, you realized. As if he was afraid that any second, someone could strike. And yes, someone was clearly targeting you. But it wasn't any of the invited guests—it was the person who hosted the gathering.

“It's so nice to see that you're doing well, Lucerya,” Alicent said with a smile. You knew that smile too well. It was venomous. She’d be the one to strike any second. Gwayne didn’t have to be so tense if the danger stemmed from his side.

“I am honored that you care so deeply about my well-being, Your Grace,” you replied, even though you were sure that your smile wasn’t as bright as hers. You weren’t as good at pretending or lacing words with sugar that were intended to cut deep.

“Of course I am,” she said so loudly that everyone in the hall could hear her. “It is my duty as your kin to care for your wellbeing. I feared your mind was becoming too fragile for the burdens put upon it. But as it seems you’re just as prone to letting your emotions guide you as your mother is.”

You looked at your grandmother by marriage with a cold stare. You didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of reaction to her sly remarks … but it was simply impossible. Not, when she took your mothers name into her venomous mouth. You opened your own to tell her that your mother was a better, wiser and braver person than she’d ever be, but suddenly, there was a wall in front of you.

Ser Gwayne had stepped in. 

“We shouldn't let our emotions get the better of us on a day as important as today. Don't you agree, Sister?” he asked Alicent. 

His sister. 

You couldn’t believe that the man who helped you cut your hair, who was your shadow but also the only flicker of light you had in captivity, was related to the snake that was Alicent Hightower. 

“How right you are, Brother. I certainly didn't mean to interrupt the festivities, nor did I want to put our dear guest in an unpleasant state. Forgive me, my granddaughter.”

The most elaborate insults your brother had once hurled at Aemond and Aegon ran through your mind. What you would give to shout them in this exact moment … 

“Don’t,” someone muttered right beside your ear. 

The festivities kept going, and you found yourself right next to your knight. Your captor. The brother of a snake. 

“Don’t act as if you can read my thoughts, Ser Gwayne.”

The knight stood beside you, hands folded neatly behind his back, posture straight. There was a glimmer in his eyes. One that almost seemed … amused? 

“I don’t need to read your mind when I can clearly read the thoughts right from your face, Princess,” he retorted in a quiet tone. 

“I’m not a book that is at your disposal,” you growled. 

That only made the amused twinkle in his eyes grow stronger. You quickly looked straight ahead again. Looking at Ser Gwayne was dangerous. The more often you did it, the longer your gaze lingered.

“Careful, Princess. It would be wise to not look at everyone in this room as if you wanted to kill them in their sleep.”

“Maybe I want to kill you in your sleep.”

“I strongly doubt that.”

“Well, right this second I very much do.”

A low chuckle. The sound sent goosebumps down your spine, and you hated yourself for it. Hated the way you entertained this conversation, even though you were out in the open, vulnerable and just got humiliated by the Queen Dowager in front of everyone.

“It wouldn’t be wise to murder your only friend at court, Princess,” Gwaynes voice pulled you out of your thoughts. 

You couldn’t help but look at him again. He was still right there beside you, was still in his rigid posture, was still so damn beautiful. His glimmering eyes, the soft curve of his mouth, his auburn hair that somehow always found a way into his forehead. Your fingers tingled as if they wanted to take a mind of their own and stroke them out of his face. His features looked gentle, yet you knew he could be the exact opposite. You had seen him fight before; you had witnessed him killing men, blood splattered all over his skin. And yet, when he looked at you, his gaze was never murderous. Never hard or cold. 

“Is that what we are?” you asked. “Friends?”

Gwayne looked at you then, just for a split second, before overlooking the crowd again. Meanwhile, they were all dancing wildly. Not a care in the world, while countless burdens weighed on you. 

“I can be whatever you want me to be, Princess.”

Gwaynes voice was barely audible, you almost couldn’t hear him.

But you did. And it felt as if there was a meaning hidden between the lines that made you blush. The heat stayed there, while the knight stayed by your side. Never wavering. A shadow. A friend. Maybe something else.

I can be whatever you want me to be, Princess.

An improper thought popped into your mind—one you couldn't shake—and sent a tingling sensation through your veins.

[bladeoria]

𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒚 | gwayne hightower

you are a captive by the greens and gwayne if your assigned guard. when you have a moment of weakness, he’s there for you.

pairing: fem!lucerys!reader x gwayne

warnings: dark thoughts, fluff, romantic tension, reader gets treated like shit by the greens but gwayne is a cutiepie

You are a captive among the Greens and your existence felt more like a curse with each passing day. You’re isolated, sad, and missing your mother, Rhaenyra, your brother, and all your kin, was tearing you apart from the inside. The only person you had in the Red Keep is Ser Gwayne Hightower, the ever-so-chivalrous knight assigned to guard you.

You hated him.

You hated that, after a while, you didn’t have the strength anymore to uphold that hatred. Not when Ser Gwayne was the only person that showed you a remnance of kindness.

Loneliness had made you become a shell of a person. The endless days in chambers you were only allowed to leave when the Greens told you to. Alicent’s sly remarks, sweet, yet venomous. The whispers that you would soon be married off to strengthen the Greens cause instead of ever being allowed to return home.

A dagger had found its way into your hands. You let it dance between your fingers, fighting against the dark thoughts that build a cloud in your head. 

You lifted your hair, slowly letting your fingers run through the dark strands. 

This was the reason for so much of your pain. The question whether you were a legitimate heir to Rhaenyra. The reason for all the venom Alicent sent your way. 

You gathered your hair … and began to cut it all off.

It was too thick, you realized. So you only tried it with one thick strand and watched it, as it slipped to the floor. For the first time in weeks, a slow smile spread on your lips.

Suddenly, the door to your chambers opened, as if the Greens had felt the glimpse of happiness in your veins. 

Gwayne entered, watching silently.

“Are you always like that?” you asked as you cut through another strand. “Watching ever so silently? Or are you capable of other things, too?”

Still without a word, he stepped closer. His head tilted to the side as he watched you, his eyes impossibly intense. You couldn’t tell if he was worried or amused – or if he maybe thought you insane.

“I bet you’re enjoying this. My torture,” you ground out, cutting away even more of your dark strands. Not silver. Not like your mothers. The very reason everyone questioned your legitimacy.

“On the contrary, my Princess,“ he replied. “I don’t enjoy seeing you like this.”

The first words he had spoken, calm and measured. But you noticed the way his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. As if he would strike at any small sign of danger – even if it came from yourself.

“Because of this?” You laughed as you hacked off another lock of hair. “I know. It must be horrible to look at me right now. Maybe it’s for the best, since your sister seems so keen on marrying me off instead of sending me back home.”

He came to a halt right behind you. “That’s not what I intended to say, Princess.”

You hated that his voice had this soft, intimate sound. That a part of you enjoyed his presence too much. You were disgusted by yourself. Then Gwayne reached out his hand.

Of course. 

He wanted your dagger.

“No,” you said sharply, grabbing the weapon even tighter. “This is mine.”

“Let me assist you, Princess. I’m afraid you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I can handle a dagger, Ser Gwayne.”

“How surprising,” he said. “It doesn’t look like it.”

You raised a brow. “I didn’t know you were able of rudeness.”

His hand was still there, outstretched right in front of you. “I’m capable of even more things, Princess. For example cutting hair. I always cut …” He stopped himself from finishing that sentence. You weren’t sure how that ending would have gone. Was he going to tell you that he cut someones hair once? You couldn’t tell. You only knew that you didn’t enjoy the sudden hurt that flickered over his face as if he was stuck in a memory from the past. 

With a sigh, you gave in and lay the dagger in his hand. 

He stepped behind you, and you could see his frame in the mirror. The wrinkle between his brows, as he started to cut the back of your hair. 

In slow, steady cuts, Gwayne helped you trim the uneven lengths. His fingers brushed against your head. For a knight, a soldier who fought countless battles, his touch was surprisingly gentle. Without noticing, your lashes fluttered close. It took a while, and your eyes were still closed, when you heard him lay the dagger on the desk in front of you. Then, his fingertips were on your hair again. Softly he stroked over the shortened strands. You could feel him lean closer, could feel his warmth. 

His voice was suddenly at your ear, his breath tickling your skin. “This isn’t a burden to me, Princess.”

You couldn’t breathe. But Gwayne wasn’t finished. 

“Your hair is beautiful. Just as you are.“

Your breath hitched. You opened your eyes and turned your face toward his, hovering just over your shoulder. His gaze dropped to your mouth, only for one split second. You licked your lips, your mouth suddenly feeling too dry.

“It sounds as though you just paid me a compliment, Ser Gwayne,” you whispered.

“I did.”

You raised a brow. “Isn’t that rather improper?”

“I thought you might appreciate a little impropriety for a change. Life is bleak otherwise.” A small smile touched his lips. “And you are quite the contrary, are you not?”

You let out a breath that was almost a laugh. That seemed to satisfy him. He straightened then, nodding his head. His hands folded neatly behind his back. Then he left you alone with all those strands of hair – and the dagger he had left on your desk. 

It seemed your knight had been right.

Things didn’t seem quite so bleak anymore.

[bladeoria]

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐃 | aemond targaryen

once you had been friends. now you’re nothing – at least, until aemond hears of your engagement. a nightly visit should show you, who you truly belong to.

warnings: former friend!reader x aemond, 18+ smut, mdni, jealousy, possessiveness, improper use of door, slight knife play

word count: 2.5k

a/n: my first time writing for aemond! I’m a little rusty on the smut, bear with me. english is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes.

You were waiting for a long time for a fitting match—and you finally found it in Lord Blackwood. A kind man, a little old for your liking, but you weren’t in a position to pick and choose. So you agreed to the proposal, making your father proud, finally lifting that weight of his shoulders. The news spread fast across the Red Keep. You were congratulated left and right, smiling all day. Only when you returned to your bedchambers that night, the doors closing behind you, the smile slowly faded. You let your head drop. Your shoulders sank.

You really were going to marry. A man that was more than twice your age. The weight that had been on your fathers shoulders, suddenly rested on yours, pulling you down into an unknown darkness. 

“I heard congratulations are in order,” a dangerously gentle voice echoed through your chambers.

Your whole body stiffened. You lifted your head—and there he was. 

Aemond Targaryen. The one-eyed prince who once had been a kind of friend to you. Before everything. Before the lines between you really got the chance to blur. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said sharply. Immediately, the mask was back on your face. He was supposed to think, just like everyone else, that you were incredibly happy. That Lord Blackwood’s proposal was the best thing that had ever happened to you. That you fulfilled your duty as the daughter of a highborn Lord, that you did just what everyone expected of you.

“As far as I know, these halls are ours,“ he replied, his face unmoving as ever. “I can be wherever I want. And as luck would have it, I’ll be spending tonight right here.”

You took a deep breath, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. It was always this way with Aemond. You knew him since you were little and watched him grow into the cruel, merciless person he was today. But there had been different times. Times which you’d give anything to forget, but just couldn’t. 

You’d never forget the day that your mother died, when he found you in the sept, kneeling right beside you, sharing the grief in silence, just a breath away. You’d never forget the first time you ever heard him laugh, quiet at first, but then with his whole chest. A sound which haunted you even now, years later. You’d never forget his fight with Ser Criston, where he cut his arm so badly you stayed beside him the whole night, fighting with the Maesters when they tried to send you away. But things changed after a while. He got power-hungry in ways you couldn’t comprehend, and that thirst for power drove a wedge between the two of you. You had told him what you thought of his intentions – and he cut you out of his life with the precision of his dagger. But now? He stood in your chambers as if all those months of silence didn’t exist. 

Aemond took slow, leisurely steps. Each one revealed just how much strength his body possessed, every muscle beneath his black clothing taut. You pressed your back against the door, torn between fleeing this room or standing up to him. You chose the latter.

“I could scream,“ you threatened while raising your chin. 

“And what then?” he taunted, stopping right in front of you. His intense gaze locked onto yours.

You let out a deep sigh. “What do you want from me, Aemond?”

He raised a hand and you held your breath. With surprising gentleness, he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. For a split second you forgot how to breathe. “I already told you: I’m here to congratulate you on your proposal.“ 

You gritted your teeth. “Sounds more like mockery to me.”

He clicked his tongue. “What do you take me for, Zaldrītsos?”

You flinched at that familiar nickname from back then. He always insisted that you were feisty like a dragon. A little one, but a dragon nonetheless.  

“I think of you exactly as you are: an arrogant prince who thinks he can always do whatever he pleases.”

He raised a brow. “You don’t seem to have a very high opinion of me.”

“And you seem to have gained some intelligence if you understood that,” you said with a bitter smile. 

“Ah,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I’ve missed your sharp tongue.”

“I’m not going to play this game with you, Aemond.” You were about to walk away from him—when he grabbed your wrist, sending a shock through you at the sudden contact of skin.

“It’s not a game for me,” he ground out. “Not since I heard that you accepted the proposal of a ridiculous lord who’s twice your age.” 

You gritted your teeth. “Some of us simply have no choice, Aemond. Some of us have to do what’s expected of us.”

He snorted and broke free from you. Then he paced back and forth through your chambers. Finally, he spun around and pointed at you “You’re saying that to me of all people. To me, who’s weighed down by everything I can’t have? Who has to watch my brother get everything with ease, without ever having done anything to earn it?” 

“I don’t understand what this has to do with me,” you said. “You show up here after we haven't exchanged a single word in at least a year, and what exactly do you want from me, hm? To make fun of me because I accepted a proposal? Dig the knife deeper into the wound I already carry?”

The next moment, he grabbed you by the shoulders, and your back slammed against the door. All of a sudden, he was so close to you that you could barely breathe. All you could feel was him; his breath, a strand of his hair that got loose and grazed your cheekbone, his muscular frame against yours.

“I’ll tell you what this has to do with you,” he whispered. His breath brushed your lips, and a wave of heat washed over you. “It has everything to do with you, Zaldrītsos.”

Gone was the cruel monster; something else had taken its place. His gaze was intense and filled with an unknown desire that seemed to have taken over his whole body. And now it seemed to be spreading to you, too, like a flame that fed on dry forest. 

“Aemond,” you whispered. “What are you doing?”

“I’m doing what I should have done back then,” he replied hoarse, wrapping a hand around your neck. The touch was possessive, harsh. Something fluttered in your stomach, feeding the heat in your bones. 

And then, without another word, Aemond kissed you.

For a moment, the world stood still.

The universe paused.

You simply surrendered to the sensation of his lips. 

Aemond kissed the way he fought: without restraint and full of dominance. He devoured your mouth, held you tightly in his embrace, took possession of your body, and deep in your soul, you surrendered to him. There was nothing but desire as he ran his tongue over yours. Your hands—suddenly they were resting on his chest, finally feeling the muscles you’d always watched during his graceful sparring matches, and his abs twitched as you let your hands glide over them. Greed took ahold of you, and your fingers shook when you touched him more, feeling every rigid part of him. 

Suddenly, his hands were on your laces, and with surprising precision, he undid them, bit by bit. Apparently it was too slow for his liking, with a hiss, he drew his dagger from its sheath.

One quick cut, and the dress was ruined.

“Aemond,” you gasped against his lips when the cold air hit your bare skin.

He bit you as an answer and kept undoing your dress. The fabric slipped to the ground, and you stood before him. Aemond kneeled before you, his gaze fixed on your center. 

“Please, let me…” He swung one of your legs over his shoulder, gathered up your dress, and looked up at you from below. You bit your lip and nodded. That was all he needed. The next moment his head was exactly where you needed it. You leaned back, buried your hand in his silky strands, and gasped as pleasure ran through you. Your knees felt weak already, as Aemonds skilled mouth moved on you. You were lost in pleasure, but the throbbing inside you wanted more. It wanted him. His mouth wasn’t enough. 

“Please…,” you begged. “Please, Aemond. I need you.”

He kept moving his mouth until you saw stars. “Let me enjoy my feast,” he murmured against your sex. “I‘ve been waiting a long time for it.”

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, forcing his head back. “Lose your breeches. Right. Now.”

His eye pierced right into yours. “I didn’t take you for that forceful. Which was clearly a shortsight of mine.”

You reached for him and with trembling fingers you helped him lose his breeches. You took him into your hands and Aemond whimpered. A new favorite sound of yours, you decided then and there. He pumped into your hand and his head fell back, his eye closing in pleasure. You wanted to see him this way when you closed your mouth around him, but right now, you needed only him. And as it seemed, Aemond had the same thought.

“Brace yourself,” was the only thing he ground out.

Then he lifted you up, and buried himself in your warmth with a hard thrust. You let out a scream, which made him put a hand on your mouth. 

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long…” His voice sounded as if it were coming from far away. Once again, he moved inside you, back and forth, slowly at first, as if he needed to get used to the feeling of you just as much as you needed to get used to him. But after a few thrusts, the restraint was gone.

On the same day you had been promised to someone else, Aemond fucked you by the door of your chambers. And you loved every single second of it. The feeling of suddenly being so close to him after the long drought. The way he was hard in all the places where you were soft. The way his cock felt inside you—a mixture of sweet pain and intense pleasure. You loved the sounds he made; the ever so controlled prince, completely taken apart by the pleasure you gave him. It was a glorious sight, and you wanted to see everything of him. Without hesitation, you raised your hand and brushed the eye patch away from his eye. The sapphire glimmered in the moonlight, and finally, finally, you were able to give its scar the care you had held within you for so long. You kissed him there, softly grazing the thick scar, which made Aemond lose the rest of restraint. His thrusts grew harder, as your back slammed against the door. 

“Tell me,” he ground out, his voice rough, accentuated by each hard thrust. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“I belong to you!“ you screamed as he hit a spot inside you that made you see stars. 

Those words spurred Aemond on to thrust himself even harder and faster into you. All you could do was dig your nails into his hard shoulders as you headed toward a cliff. And then, with a few final hard thrusts and a guttural groan, you both leaped over it together, right into the roaring waves. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and clung to him, breathing heavily. Aemonds breath was hot at your neck. You could feel his seed dripping out of you, but you didn't even have the strength left to regret it.

Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you away from the door, carrying you through your rooms. A few seconds later, you were gently laid down on the bed. Aemond was over you right after and brushed your sweat-drenched hair off your forehead.

“Don’t marry him.“ The words came out hoarse. You blinked.

“Pardon me?”

“Don’t marry him,“ he repeated.

You gulped. “Aemond … I don’t have a choice.”

“What if I offer you an alternative?”

You blinked. “I’m not sure I’m following, my prince.”

He nestled his face in the crook of your neck. You could feel one of his rare smiles on your skin, and again there was this fluttering feeling right in your stomach. ”I do quite enjoy you calling me that instead of insults.”

“I mean it as an insult, though,“ you lied, a slow smile creeping onto your lips.

“Marry me instead.“

Silence.

The words echoed on your skin. Again and again. 

When you didn’t answer him, Aemond raised himself on his arms and looked down on you. His hair build a veil between your faces, a silvery cage only for the two of you. 

“Why now?” you whispered. Your heart beat so fast you feared he could feel it. “Because I don’t belong to Lord Blackwood? Because you don’t like other men playing with your playthings?” You couldn’t stop the bitterness from lacing your words. 

“Because I love you,” Aemond replied simply. “And apart from the fact that he’s an old cunt, I’m not sure you could say the same thing for him.”

You stared at him, speechless. For a moment, you couldn't believe what you'd just heard.

“You love me,” you repeated. 

He didn’t answer. Just placed his hand on your face and kissed you once more. And in that sweet kiss, you could simply feel it. The love he had for you. The fact that he adored you, maybe always had.

“Marry me instead,” Aemond whispered on your lips.

And for a moment, you imagined it. What it would be like to have the one-eyed prince by your side. The challenges that would come with it. The battles you’d have to fight. But also the happiness you could share together. The paths you could set out on hand in hand. 

You smiled up at him.

He could read the answer in your eyes. Once again, he wrapped his arms around you. 

You were a tangled knot of arms and legs, two hearts beating in unison, two souls that had lost each other and now found each other again.

Finally, at long last.

[bladeoria]

𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑, 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 | gwayne hightower

you hurt your arm during a practice battle. it was nothing serious, but your husband insisted on helping you in any way he could. this time, it was your hair that needed to be washed, and gwayne oh so lovingly forced you to accept his help.

“stop fidgeting,” he says while laying your head back into the washtub.

you sigh. “I don’t like being this … restricted.”

“well, that’s not always the case, is it?” your husband whispers directly into your ear. heat rushes to your cheeks, and you give his shoulder a slap half-heartedly.

“only speaking the truth, my love. whether you want to hear it or not.” he smiles right above your face, kissing your forehead. “now lay back and close your eyes.”

you do as he says and then you feel warm water run over your head. after that came gwaynes skilled fingers, he gently rubs your scalp while humming.

bit by bit, you let go; the tension leaves your body.

“that’s it. just like that. let go.”

another wave of heat rushes through your whole body. “is it your intention to let your words sound so ambiguous, husband?” you inquire.

gwayne gives a low chuckle. “that’s for you to decide, my love.”

you scrunch your nose. “how cruel you can be, husband. you know I’m physically limited at the moment.”

he rinses the soap out of your hair, continuing to massage your temples and scalp, and more and more tension seeps out of your body. your liquid between his hands.

“you don’t need your arm for some things,” he whispers right into your ear, and goosebumps spread all over your body.

a smile spreads on your lips, your whole body vibrating with sheer anticipation. “big words, my love.”

“I intend to make them come true as soon as you’ve learned your lesson on accepting help without acting like the world is coming to an end.”

gwayne spends half the night proving his words, his face buried between your thighs.

[bladeoria]

𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘 | gwayne hightower

summary: gwayne is her eternal shadow. and one of the simple joys in her life is making him lose his temper. pairing: fem!targaryen!oc x gwayne hightower content: fluff, hurt, tension, vaelora is a war captive a/n: my first hotd fic!!! please let me know what you think!!

After hours of riding, she just had to jump into the river. Screw it, Vaelora thought. It was her duty as a hostage to drive the knight assigned to keep her crazy. The man she was only too happy to drive mad. It was one of the only fun things in her life to keep Gwayne Hightower on his toes. She looked at his auburn hair, whipped by the wind across his forehead, and the skeptical expression that made the lines of his face even harder, even though his eyes never were. 

“Get in!” she screamed. “The water is lovely.”

“I’m sure it is, princess,” he retorded. “And full of leeches that are too keen on drinking your blood.”

Vaelora lay on her back, drowning out his voice, drowning out everything. The fact that, even though Gwayne made fun with her, she was his captive. The fact that she hadn’t seen her older sister in a whole year. The fact that soon enough she‘d be back in her room – alone, with no one to listen to her but the rats of the castle. And there were plenty of them, animals and men. 

“Princess?” Faintly, the sound of Gwaynes voice. A beautiful voice, she might add. Soft around the edges. Sometimes a little too soft for her liking. She wondered if there was anything that would get him to snap out of that annoying calm he always had. 

What would he do, for example, if she just …

Vaelora acted on impulse. She turned around, letting her body go limb. Not moving an inch, letting herself drift away from the shore. A pressure started in her lungs, faint but growing stronger with each second she was holding her breath. It took too long. Maybe he wouldn’t … 

Next thing she knew, Gwayne jumped into the water. He spun her around; his mouth slightly open in shock, his eyes wide. But his expression changed when she burst out laughing.

“You’re impossible,” he ground out, letting go of her – but she wouldn’t let him. Instead, she swung her hand out and splashed water in his face with all her might. 

“You did not just …”

“I did. What now, Ser Gwayne? What will it take for you to finally snap out of that horrible chivalry, hm?” Another splash of water hit him in the face.

“Princess, we have to keep going–” he started, but another splash of water hit him mid sentence. 

“Aren’t you tired of acting so righteous all the time?” she inquired and lay on her back again, drowning out his voice once more. A big mistake – the next moment, his arms wrapped around her and he made a move to throw her over his shoulder. Vaelora struggled with all her might, but his grip remained unyielding.

“Let go of me right this instance!” she seethed. Which made the knight let out a small laugh.

“You wished for me to step out of my own skin, Princess,” he said. “I’m simply granting your heart’s desire.”

She squirmed and struggled against him until she finally slid down his body. The water was so deep that she had to stand on her tiptoes to not go under. So deep that she clung to his shoulders when the current threatened to sweep her away.

“I’ve got you.” Gwayne’s voice, right next to her ear. Then the realization that he had taken off parts of his armor to get in the water. She could feel his body, hard in all the places where she was soft. She didn’t know how it happened, but her hands acted on their own, sliding across his chest. The catch of his breath was lovely. She wanted to get moire noises out of him. 

“Princess …” His voice sounded hoarse and that made her pulse quicken. Her hands wandered lower even. To his stomach. The muscles tensed under her touch, and her mouth felt dry when she realized how trained, how strong he really was. Every part of him was formed to perfection. Hardened by decades of training and war. 

War against her sister.

War that tore her from her family. 

War that was the reason she was held captive.

She jerked her hand back as if she’d burned herself. Suddenly, she became aware of the coldness of the water, as well as the fact that Gwayne was her enemy –and nothing more. 

“Let’s go home,” he muttered as if the same realization had hit him. Her teeth were chattering from the cold and she avoided his gaze. 

“Thanks to your kind, I don’t have a home, do I?” she retorted. Then she turned to get out of the water, leaving him behind her. But she knew he was never far. Her eternal shadow, chained to this life as much as she was.