âSo thatâs it?â The question cut through the airâsharp and bitter in its delivery, yet still edged with a kind of hurt that only a woman scorned could muster up. The tremor in your hands was blatant. White-hot fury illuminated your eyes in a way your lover hadnât witnessed before.
Never had you directed your anger toward Bruce, at least not like this.
You were the fun girlfriend who brought joy into his demanding life. You were the supportive girlfriend who didnât ask too many questions. You were the understanding girlfriend who gave forgiveness freely.
You werenât meant to lash out, werenât used to letting those pesky doubts pave the way for actual conflict. You didnât want to do this.
But with every passing month spent by Bruceâs sideâknowing what everyone said about himâspite had been festering within you. Almost like a parasite, itâd taken a hold of you before you could even realize it.
You saw the tabloids daily. You knew what the public perception of your relationship looked like. In fact, you were painfully aware of how certain the majority of people were in their assumption that Bruce Wayne would surely return to his playboy roots sooner or later.
Proving them right was a bitter pill to swallow.
Stupid; thatâs how you felt after not having predicted this outcome. With all the warnings youâd been ignoring, you almost blamed yourself.
The silence stretched on, and your heart broke a little more at his lack of a response. You used to love how calm and collected Bruce wasâthought it balanced out the temper you could barely control at times. Now you found yourself hating how unreadable his face was.
Frustration turned into rage, as you pushed against his chest and shouted, âSpeak up already! You owe me that much, donât you?!â
A disbelieving scoff left your parted lips. âOr is that also too much to expect after the two years you have spent making a fool of me in the public eye?â Your voice held steady, but your eyes betrayed you.
Beneath the surface, Bruce could recognize the hurt pooling in them.
But he couldnât tell you the truth. Not involving you in his life of fighting crime had been a conscious decision. Keeping you in the dark was for the best, even if holding on to this secret would break your trust in him.
Bruce would rather have you hate him than have you be in danger as a result of his selfishness. He couldnât be selfish; not with you. His love for you had stopped him from that before even his morality ever could.
He wasnât deserving of good things. They never lasted. He knew that now. Hurting you had never been his intention, though. Fuck, he hadnât even intended for you to get as close to him as you did. You were a civilianâsomeone who only knew him as Bruce, and not as the Bat.
You had no idea of what being with him truly meant. So he had tried to keep his distance, to stop whatever was happening between you two before it could ever truly ignite. But it was pointless. Your persistence, your affection, your warmth; theyâd cracked his resolve quicker than he could have prevented it. You made it impossible for love not to bloom.
The seeds of trust youâd planted in the beginnings of your relationship blossomed in spite of the light Bruce lacked to nurture them at times.
Your love had felt like a magnolia in May. Seeing you like this made Bruce wonder if his neglect had truly caused its petals to wither away.
Bruce wanted to pull you closer. Instinct called for him to reach out to you, to reassure you, to tell you that none of these claims held any real substance to them. It seemed impossible to convince you, though, that the damning pictures paparazzi had leaked of him leaving a notorious strip club downtown meant nothing. He couldnât tell you the actual reason why he was thereânot without exposing his vigilante lifestyle.
He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it once more. Still, no words.
You felt a familiar burning sensation in your nostrilsâa warning for the tears that were already beginning to sting at the corners of your eyes.
Schooling your expression, you took a step back from Bruce, as though being near him filled you with disgust. âFuck you,â you spat out, but your voice lacked its previous passion. Then, you turned around and left. With you, you took any hope he had held onto for a brighter future.
A flower simply couldnât persevere in the face of darkness, and if Bruce was honest with himself, he knew that the darkness had become a part of him a long time ago. Heâd settle for admiring his magnolia from afar.
And he did. Letting you go had wrecked him, yet seeing you shine once more brought him back to life. Months passed, then a year, and still, Bruce found himself wishing he could have been the right man for you. If only he couldâve been the gentle-faced blonde man on whose arm you hung these days. The one that had no secrets to keep from you.
The one who Bruce heard had proposed to you recently. The one you had said yes to. In another world, would you have said yes to him too?
In a world where Bruce had been the one to ask you to be his wife instead of breaking your heart? A simpler world, one that allowed for him not to be the twisted man he was doomed to be in this one.
Marriage had been a thought for him at the time. More and more often had he looked at his late motherâs wedding ring and thought of what a future would look like with you by his side forever as Mrs. Wayne.
Bruce wondered if you would think of him when you walked down the aisle toward another man, stepping into a life that should have been his. A rotten part of him hoped you would. The astute part knew it.
emâs masterlist | bruce wayne masterlist wc: 1.0k request: no
Ëâ⎠a/n: feel like i started strong but got rly lazy at some point đ tbh iâm a bit cringed out by my metaphors in this but i cba to change ts đŹ
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You are bend over, hands on your belly as you get wheeled into the ER. The pain started so suddenly and wasn't going anywhere so your coworkers called you an ambulance.
You protested at first, not wanting to be trouble but now you are more than happy to be inside a hospital.
You don't see any familiar doctors or nurses. No Robby, no Dana. Only that pretty, blonde doctor who's name you can't recall right now.
"Hello, I'm Dr. King. Did you eat something unusual today? Any allergies?" She starts off firing questions while she pokes at your stomach with her hands.
You wince as she does it, pain only growing with the touch. "No, no. No weird food, no allergies."
She asks a few more questions but you can barely remember enough to answer her, the pain becomes just too much.
Thankfully, Dr. King has a diagnosis for you almost right away. "Unfortunately, it seems like you have appendicitis. You'll need to have a surgery or it could burst and cause much bigger problems. Is there anybody who you would like for us to call?"
They are quickly wheeling you out of the room and that hurry sends your worry spiking a little. "Call Jack. My emergency contact."
You see her nod, and she hurries away, probably to make sure that somebody calls him. You just hope he'll be there by the time you wake up.
-
"Hey, Dana. Could you call the emergency contact of my patient please? Thank you." Mel hands your papers to Dana.
"Sure, kid. You got it." Dana reaches for the papers and stops short when she sees your name sprawled on top of it.
She reaches for her own phone, dialing Jack immediately. Jack's pretty, lovely girl is about to have a surgery and he's nowhere to be found? No way, Dana can't have that.
"What's wrong?" Robby clocks in Dana's distressed face almost instantly, too.
She only shake his head at him and pushes the papers towards him. He curses when he reads your name.
"Is she still here?" He asks as Dana starts explaining everything quickly to Jack. It's all quick and precise words, just to get him here as soon as possible.
"She wasn't with Jack?" Robby asks with a frown after Dana hangs up.
"No, she got here from work. Ambulance brought her in. Jack didn't even know and she looked pretty bad, Robby..."
"Jesus." Robby scrubs his beard. "Will she get a bed upstairs after the surgery?"
"Doubt it. But I'll see what I can do." Dana promises, already picking up her phone again. Recovering in the ER is not that ideal with all the noise.
"Thanks, Dana. Send Jack my way if you see him before me, yeah?" Robby gets a nod and gets back to work. A piece of his mind still on you though. You've become his very good friend ever since you met Jack. And he hates seeing the people he loves get hurt.
-
Jack doesn't go to the Pitt, he heads straight to the surgery floor. He almost convinces the nurses there to let him inside but they make him stay in the waiting room.
And by the time you get out, Jack's sick with worry. He immediately runs to your bed as they wheel you out. He only listens to the surgeon say that everything went perfect with one ear.
His sole focus is on assessing you with his own eyes and touch. He brushes some stray hair away from your pale face.
He blows out a breath of relief, finally able to function full, again. Jack hasn't felt this kind of panic in a long, long time. Not since his late wife.
"Is she staying here?" Jack asks the nurses, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.
One of the nurses shakes her head. "No, we don't have any open beds. We are taking her downstairs."
Jack nods, it's nothing unusual. He takes ahold of one side of the bed and helps push you. He's gonna stay with you until you wake up and until he can take you home and take care of you there.
Jack stays quiet the whole way down. Clutching your hand in one hand and the bed in the other. When you finally get inside the halls of the Pitt people Jack's colleagues, gawk at him.
Murmurs go around as they look with wide eyes. He didn't even realise that people didn't know that he had a girlfriend. But he finds that he doesn't particularly care about their interested gaze, not when you are there.
"Jack, room 4 is ready for her." Robby comes up to him, clasping him on his shoulder in comfort.
Jack gives him a curt nod. Words a little bit thick with emotions as he says. "Thank you, brother."
"Don't even mention it. Call for me if you need anything, yeah?" Robby squeezes his shoulder one more time before he leaves you two be, needed in trauma again.
Robby is replaced by Dana almost immediately. She helps Jack wheel you in and hook you up to all the monitors.
"What did the surgeon say?" She asks with soft eyes.
"She said that the surgery went well, and that if all tests are good, she can go home tomorrow." Jack doesn't even know how he managed to remember all of that when he was barely listening.
"That's great, Jack." Dana tucks the blanket higher up your chin. "How are you holding up though?" She gives him a look that says that he shouldn't try to lie.
"Better now that I'm with her. I was so worried, Dana." He shakes his head, it's not easy to talk about his emotions. "Thank you for calling me."
"Of course, Jack. She's a strong girl and she got here just in time. Just stay with her and you'll both be fine. And don't worry about work, Robby already talked to Gloria. You can take as much time off as you need."
Jack mouths 'thank you', afraid that his voice might betray him with all of the emotions he's feeling.
Dana leaves him with a warm smile, waving his gratitude off.
Jack waits for the anesthesia to wear off and to finally see your pretty eyes.
-
You find Jack leaning over you with a relieved smile when you wake up. The second thing you notice is the pain being gone, replaced by the floaty, painless state.
"You are here." You whisper with a hoarse voice. Hand reaching up to wipe away the lonely tear sliding down his rugged cheek.
"Of course, I'm here, angel. More of a surprise is that you are here." Jack tries to crack a light joke, just to see your smile.
"Sorry." You say sheepishly, giving him that damned smile he wanted to see. The last bit of worry slips away as the corners of your mouth go up.
"Don't be sorry, sweetheart. Good thing you came here. The surgery went well, they took it out so there shouldn't be any more pain like that." He gives your hand a gentle squeeze.
"Good, the pain was so sudden. I didn't know it could feel like that. I thought I was gonna pass out from it." You explain. "I didn't even want to come here at first but I'm glad I did."
"Jesus, baby, next time call me if anything like this happens to you, please. And don't even try to say you didn't want to bother me, that's such a nonsense."
You give him a shy smile. "Okay, Jack. I promise to call next time." And then you ask. "Do you know when can I go home?"
"If the tests are good, then I'm taking you home tomorrow. And I'll be fussing around you until you are back to 100 percent." Jack grins at you. "You might even start getting sick of me by then."
"Sick of your handsome face? Never, Jackie."
"Is that all I am to you? Just a pretty face for you to look at?" Jack's heart is practically singing with happiness as he hears you banter back.
"Maybe." You smile teasingly at him, even forgetting that you are in a hospital when Jack is with you.
"Wow, okay, I'm going to call Dr. King, and let her keep you here forever." Your laughter dies down at his words, realisation striking you.
"Wait. Does...Does everyone know about us then?" You ask, a little wide eyed but excited. You've been itching to meet everyone. Especially Dr. J, her videos are so fun.
"Yes. Is that okay?" Jack questions, eyebrows raised up uncertainly.
"Are you kidding? I've been looking forward to meeting everybody."
Jack gives you a big smile at that answer, leaning in to softly brush his lips against yours.
"Okay, sweetheart, I'll let them know that they can come introduce themselves later. But you should try resting some more, okay?" He can't resist planting one more kiss onto your cracked lips. He should find you a lip balm, he pockets that thought for later.
"Okay, will you stay?"
"Of course, angel. I told you, I'm not going anywhere." And with his reassurance, you close your eyes and let the exhaustion pull you asleep once again.
- gwayne hightower x wife!reader x ormund hightower
ser gwayne hightower may be known for his chivalry, but beneath his courtly smile is a man of steel and blood. vows have made you his lawfully wedded wife, and when his most peculiar cousin starts weaving his traps for you to fall into⌠you will see another side of him you have never seen before
genre/warnings:
18+ suggestive contentâminors do not interact!âarranged marriage, lots of romance and fluff, hurt/comfort, sunshine!gwayne and grumpy!reader, ormund is his own warning, first time with gwayne (bc he lost it), targaryen!reader (reader is rhaenyra's younger sister)
notes:
gif by @/baelcrtargaryen and @/alysmond. part 2 of to court a princess but can also be read as a standalone. this brainrot has been brewing for a while and i love it :)) so i hope you will too!
â...and even when our bones return to dust, may I find your soul still sworn to mine.â
Before the Seven, as the great bells chimed, you and Gwayne Hightower pledged your vows, sealing them with the tenderest kiss.
The wedding between a princess of the blood and a noble knight of House Hightower was the liveliest celebration the realm had seen in a while. King Viserys was overjoyed, and even Queen Alicent wore a rare genuine smile for both you and her brother. Rhaenyra pulled you into a warm embrace, offering her heartfelt wishes with a glowing smile.
Yet⌠amidst the sea of well-wishers, there was one gaze that was heavy upon you.
âMany congratulations on this most auspicious union, cousin.â
Ormund Hightower stepped before you, looking impeccably sharp in his exquisite emerald doublet. His voice was cool and devoid of warmth.
While your new husband was kind-hearted, you had heard the future Lord of Oldtown was a Hightower of a different stripeâa true son of his father.
Then, Ormund turned his gaze to you, his lips curling into a crooked smile that didnât quite reach his eyes. âAnd to you as well, Princess...â
His dark gaze wandered, raking down your face to your bust, before returning to meet your eyes unabashedly.
âThe songs do you a disservice, Your Grace. You are a far lovelier sight than what they claim.â
There was something in the way he appraised you that made you uncomfortable. It was your first encounter with the infamous son of the Lord of Hightower, and yet you knew instantly what sort of viper he was.
Gwayneâs arm, still resting over your waist, tightened subtlyâa silent warning for him, also a reassurance to you.
âShe has my heart, Ormund, and my sword,â Gwayne replied smoothly, his eyes flashing with a protective warmth as he looked down at you. âThe realm has never seen a more beautiful bride, and I am the luckiest man in the Seven Kingdoms.â
âWhy, of course. You have done our house a great service today, Gwayne, and Iâm certain youâll make a fine husband,â he said with a careless shrug, his crooked smile not wavering. He raised his goblet in a mock toast. âMay the Light of the Seven bless your union.â
With a final, lingering look at you, Ormund turned on his heel and melted back into the sea of lords and ladies.
âDonât mind him,â Gwayne hissed under his breath.
The moment his cousin was out of sight, you leaned closer to your groom, noting the sharp clench of his jaw. Sensing your concern, however, he immediately masked his irritation and turned to you with a reassuring smile as he drew you securely against his side.
Yet, as the music surged back to life around you, you couldnât deny the chill that still prickled your skin. Ormund Hightower would remain at court for the rest of your wedding festivitiesâ
And you had a foreboding feeling you would soon see him again.
The first day of your wedding celebration finally drew to a close. With the feast over, the princess and her new husband were left in the confines of their marital chambers, andâ
The time has come for this marriage to be consummated.
A nervous flutter stirred in your chest. Gwayne had given explicit instructions for your handmaidens to leave after removing your headpiece, saying he would take care of the rest.
And try you might to look away as a proper lady should, your eyes kept drifting towards him as he began to undressâ all the while bracing yourself, expecting the shift from chivalrous knight to demanding husband.
âIf youâre stealing glances at me like an innocent maiden does her first love,â he suddenly remarked with an amused grin, âyouâre truly going to make me blush.â
Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you averted your gaze, suddenly finding everything more appealing than him.
Left in just his loose linen shirt, Gwayne had a meaningful smile on his face as he stepped behind you, his fingers reaching out to you to unlace the stiff bodice of your gown.
Oh, this is really happening, is it not?
âWe...â You suddenly found it hard to breathe as the heavy layers of your dress came loose. âAre weââ
âYes, darling?â he chuckled softly, his dimples deepening in the firelight. He clearly found satisfaction in how flustered you had become all of a sudden.
You merely looked down, biting your lip to keep yourself from stammering. Your face felt hot too as his large palm traced the contours of your bodyâ from the line of your ribs to the curve of your waist, and the dip of your hips.
After all, you were inexperienced. You had heard stories of how hurt the first night could beâ how rough the men liked it, and how comfort was the last thing a woman should expect.
As his arms circled your waist from behind, pinning you gently against him, you choked out:
âCould you be gentle... at least?â
âHm?â he hummed, smiling against your skin, his breath warm as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.
Who could have known that the stern princess could be so shy? Gwayne indulged himself, trailing a path of kisses up the sensitive nape of your neck, savoring the way you shivered beneath his touch.
Precious thing, she truly is.
With a knowing smile, he lifted you effortlessly into his arms, and you gasped, clinging to his shoulders.
He laid you down upon the silk sheets, climbing in above you, and leaned downâ immediately pressing his lips to yours in a searing kiss that tasted faintly of sweet wine.
âMmh...â His mouth moved against yours with hunger, tangling his fingers into the locks of your hair. He kissed you until you felt the room spinâ each time he pulled back a fraction of an inch, it was only to catch his breath before leaning down to devour your lips again, deeper and more bruising than before.
His toned hips pressed down firmly against yours, pinning you into the silk sheets. Through your thin linen shift, you could feel the hard, growing length of his bulge pressing against your thigh.
A quiet moan caught in your throat as he started rolling his hips, the friction sending a wave of unfamiliar heat straight to your core. Your fingers grasped the nape of his neck, and he groaned, a low vibration that you felt as much as you heard.
âDo you even knowââ he rasped against your lips, still grinding against you, his voice tinged with unbridled desire, âhow badly I want you?â
Just as the tension stretched to a breaking point, Gwayne suddenly went still. With a ragged exhale, he pulled away, leaving your lips tingling. He leveled his dark gaze on you, watching you panting for breath.
Lowering his head to rest his forehead against yours, he made no move to strip away the rest of your linen shift. He simply anchored his weight against you.
âSer GwayneâŚ?â You blinked up at him, confusion clouding your eyes.
He let out a low chuckle, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw.
âWe have just survived the court of vipers today, my darling. Both of you and I need rest, nothing more.â
âButââ
His eyes then crinkled, his smile softened, looking at you as if he knew clearly what were currently going through your mind.
âWhat did I vow to you before the Seven?â
Wide-eyed, spellbound, with swollen lips of his making. Gwayne found his princess bride really endearing. Looking at you as he would a treasure, he recited the words he had spoken before the High Septon:
âI pray that my days will be long at your side. May your hand be in mine, by sun and by night...â
His dark blue eyes bored into yours with sincerity that made your chest tighten.
âLet our breaths twine and our blood become one, and even when our bones return to dust... may I find your soul still sworn to mine.â
Once again, he caught your heart with his sweet devotion. The way he was pure in his affections for you made you almost tear up.
Is this what it feels like to feel completely safe?
âThere is no rush.â He traced a finger on your lips. âMy only desire is to cherish you. With me, you are free to speak your mindâ and as I am yours, you are entirely mine.â
He flashed you another sweet smile before rolling onto his side. He reached down to grasp the velvet blankets, pulling the covers all the way up over you both to block out the chillâtucking you securely under his arm and pulling you against his chest.
When you clung to him, he let out a giddy laugh, his hold instinctively tightening around you.
âThank you, husband,â you whispered against his broad chest, nuzzling your face closer to him.
You received a tender kiss on the crown of your head in return.
For the most part, you were the happiest bride in the Seven Kingdoms.
Everyone in the realm, from the lowly stableboys to nobles, had offered their felicitations, your knightâs devotion was absolute and his tenderness behind closed doors a sanctuary against the court.
Yet, you hadnât missed the way Ormund Hightower, the heir of Oldtown and Gwayneâs cousin, had eyed you at each and every turn.
His morning greetings had felt entirely too personal for your comfort, and the way he boldly stared at you made your skin crawl. You hadnât seen fit to tell your husband just yet, choosing instead to give his cousin the benefit of the doubt.
Now, with the last day of your wedding festivities concluded, the gates of Red Keep were open as the lords and ladies of the realm prepared their wheelhouses to leave Kingâs Landing. Seeking an escape from the noise, you ducked into a cloistered walkway near the Godswood.
But you werenât alone.
A shadow fell over the stone floor, and before you could turn, Ormund stepped out from behind a carved pillar, blocking your path in the deserted corridor.
âYour Grace,â he greeted with a cold smile.
âSer Ormund.â Your voice adopting the icy tone you had practiced for years, as you began to question what he was truly after. âShould you not prepare to return to Oldtown? I imagined you would want to be ready for the long journey back to the Reach.â
Ormund didnât answer right away. He closed the distance between you, tilted his head, a patronizing smile touching his lips.
âPreparations can wait. I merely wanted a private moment to bid my farewell to you.â
âYou have had seven days of feasts to bid your farewells,â you retorted.
His smile only deepened. Instead of moving away, he stepped closer, trapping you between his frame and the pillar.
âNow, Princess... You know it as well as I do that we play a less than pretty game here.â
His gaze dropping to your collarbone before lifting to pin yours, with a look of a man who knew how much you weighted before the Iron Throne.
âEverything you lack in birthright is amply compensated by that pretty face of yours.â His blue eyes narrowed. âWith a face like that, you could bewitch knights and lords across the Seven Kingdoms. A tragic shame... If only the timing had been right, you could have chosen me instead.â
A wave of disgust rushed through you. âYou would do well to remember yourself. You are already wed.â
âA man never knows,â he replied in a sultry whisper, âwhen he might find himself in need of another wife.â
Ormund chuckled at your horrified expression. He leaned in closer, his eyes boring into yours with a terrifyingly casual entitlement, and in that moment you caught a striking smell on him.
Incense? Pomander? It was a potent smell, but surprisingly and jarringly pleasant.
âWhy him?â he sneered, placing both arms against the wall on either side of your head. âAn easy prey, is he?â
âHe is kind,â you spat, your gaze hardening with defiance, willing yourself not to tremble before him. âA kinder man than anyone could ever be. Now I command you to let me pass, as I will not suffer you insulting my lord husband, Ormund Hightower.â
âKind, is he now...? My cousin is the very paragon of a gentleman, and you thought you could bend him to your will, no?â
He leaned even closer to your ear that you could feel his breathâhis scent filling your being, his blue eyes narrowing and burning into you with cold certainty.
âA word of counsel,â Ormund warned, his voice dropping to a menacing purr. âGwayne remains a Hightower. The blood of Oldtown runs thick in his veins, and whatever sweet words he whispers in your bed⌠In the end, he will never betray his own house.â
The words echoed in your mind, striking a sudden chord of doubtâ before nausea and fury flared within you.
With a sudden surge of strength, you shoved hard against Ormundâs chest, breaking his hold and causing him to stagger.
Without giving him the satisfaction of another word, you spun on your heel and swept past him, leaving him alone in the shadows of the corridor.
Throughout the seven days and nights of your wedding festivities, Gwayne Hightower had been a man utterly besotted, and he wasnât reluctant in showing it before the court.
These were, without a doubt, the best days of his life. A dizzying happiness bestowed upon him by the Gods.
And patience was a virtue he possessed and would gladly practice if it meant your comfort. He had no wish to rush you and would like to give you as much time as you wanted, because after all, he knew deep-seated worries a new bride had regarding the marriage bed.
To that end, he had been standing by the hearth for a while now, stoking the coals so the chamber would be warm. When the heavy oak door finally creaked open and you stepped inside, Gwayne turned, already expecting you.
âWell, hello again, darling,â he greeted, an easy smile instantly gracing his features. âAre you ready to retire for the night?â
âOhâ!â
A startled gasp escaped you, and you nearly jumped out of your skin, completely caught off guard to find him waiting. Even from across the room, he caught the rigid hunch of your shoulders and the panic in your eyes. It took only a second to realize how you were shaking.
His smile vanished, replaced by a sudden, sharp concern.
âYou look unwell,â Gwayne noted, frowning. Immediately letting go of the poker, he stood and crossed the chamber to you.
However, you were always a quick thinker. Meeting his gaze, you forced a placating smile. âNoâ It is just the wind, husband, and I am weary. I shall summon my handmaiden to help me undress and get ready for bed.â
Now there really was an unsettling weight gnawing at his chest. It was something he realized recently, but you were actually a wretched liar when caught unprepared. And now, you looked fragile, as though you desperately needed comfort.
âHas something happened?â He closed the remaining distance, his hands sliding up to catch you gently by the arm, drawing you closer to him.
His first instinct was to unquestionably provide you that comfort, and he was just about to pull you into the safety of his arms whenâ
His nostrils flared as he caught the fragrance clinging to youâ and the air left his lungs. It was a scent he loathed with a visceral hatred, yet one he recognized almost instantly.
Gwayne went rigid, the blood turning to ice in his veins. A dark, sickening realization settled over him in a matter of seconds.
How?
Just how close had you been... to carry his scent so clearly upon your skin?
His gentle demeanor hardened into a sudden steel, and his voice dropped:
âWere you with Ormund?â
. . .
You wanted nothing more than to collapse in his arms.
You were really going to when suddenly you noticed how his face darkened. Gwayneâs blue eyes locked onto yours, demanding the truth you were trying to hide.
âWhy were you with him?â
That striking smell, you realized. âNo, I wasnâtââ you stammered, the words catching in your throat as panic flared inside you.
But Gwayne was far from convinced. He immediately let go of you, stepping back as if your very touch burned him. The sudden loss of his warmth made your heart ache with a sharp pain.
He looked utterly lost now, unable to look you in the eye. And worst of all, he looked terribly hurt.
âNothing happened between us!â you blurted, desperate to bridge the sudden chasm between you. âWe just exchanged a few wordsââ
âDo not lie to me. Ormund has a certain pomander he prefersâa blasted scent I would know anywhere. To carry that scent, you must have been so near to each other, so close that...â
He couldnât even finish the sentence. The compromising image of you and his cruel cousin choked the words right out of his throat, his jaw clenching as he fought back the raw betrayal burning in his chest.
You, however, wouldnât allow him to believe the worst. You forcibly threw yourself into his arms, desperate to mend the fracture between youâ
âGwayne, I swear this upon my motherâs name: I would never hurt you in such manner.â
You wrapped your arms around him tightly, burying your face against him. In that moment, even you found a fleeting peace in his warmth and listening to his erratic heartbeat. At first, his entire frame went completely stiff under your touch.
But as your vow settled over him... the tension broke, and he melted into your embrace in surrender, holding onto you with a crushing grip.
Oh. Such a sweet man, he is. The clarity almost made you cryâeven when he thought he was in his darkest moment, he silently chose to believe you.
The two of you stayed like that for a while until a sudden, dark terror seemed to occur to him. His eyes snapped back to yours, searching your face for any sign of ruin.
âDid he force himself upon you?â he asked then, his voice uneven, almost trembling with rage at the mere thought. âBecause if he didâ if he laid a single unwanted hand on you, I willââ
âNo!â you fiercely rejected the notion. âNothing happened! Iâ I might have incited his displeasure, yes, but nothing more!â
Gwayne let out a relieved sigh, cradling your face with both of his hands to anchor himself, looking down at you like a lovelorn man. The ache in his chest subsided somewhat, and for a moment, he contemplated hearing more.
Ormund was not a kind man. He knew that better than anyone, having spent his childhood under his whims. And Ormund was ruthless and cunningâ so if he had approached you, he undoubtedly had a purpose.
It might prove him a fool, and it would cost him another piece of his soul, yet Gwayne chose faith. Just as he had done a hundred times before.
âWhatever transpired between you, I do not wish to hear of it.â
You blinked at him, only to find him staring back with a grave expression.
âJust do not come near him again,â he warned, his voice a low, commanding growl. âCan you do that?â
You barely nodded when Gwayne leaned down and captured your lips in a punishing kissâone born of relief, jealousy, and a fierce need to erase every trace of his cousin from your skin.
His hands, usually so practiced in their courtesy, lost their gentleness as he crushed you against him. He groaned against your mouth, breaking the kiss only to drag his wet lips down your throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin over your pulse point just roughly enough to make you gasp.
The sounds of your mingled breaths and sensual sighs filled the room. Your thoughts burned away by the sudden, suffocating heat of him. He backed you towards the high, velvet-curtained bed, and then swept you off your feetâ
âOh! Ser Gwayne!â
Just like your first night together as man and wife, he laid you down on the marital bed, but this time, he came down over youâhis hands tearing at the laces of your dress, his breath hot on your jaw.
âPrincess, I canâtââ His voice broke into a growl as he lost it, capturing your lips in another senseless kiss.
Somewhere in the feverish haze, he shrugged off his own shirt, letting out a grunt when he felt the burning touch of your fingertips wandering across his bare skin.
With a single, fluid pull, he rid you of your dress, and only then did he draw back, his dark eyes wide and dilated as he drank the sight of your naked form.
Every inch of you... is dazzlingly woman. How had the heavens deemed him worthy of a wife so breathtaking?
A primal urge flared within himâ he had to mark you, to write his name upon your skin. Every lord in the Seven Kingdoms should know that he alone was husband to the princess.
Gwayne buried his face in your chest, suckling your breasts, swirling his tongue around the aching peaks until you arched off the mattress, breathless.
Fuck patience.
He roughly parted your thighs next to devour your sweet cunt with his mouth and lips, making you squirm to hold back your lewd moans. Within minutes, the intense coil inside you burst, your fingertips clawing at the bedsheets as your climax tore through you.
Fuck virtues.
Your head were still spinning in a daze as he proved just how masterful he was in pleasuring you. Before you could properly recover, Gwayne parted your knees wider and settled his weight over you.
âWill it hurt?â your voice came in a whisper, laced with such raw innocence when you realized what was to come that it immediately softened him.
âThe first time always is,â Gwayne answered truthfully. âScratch me, bleed me, scream if you must. Tell me if the pain outweighs the pleasure, and I will stop.â
He aligned himself against your entrance and with a push, inched himself inside you. You winced, a sharp cry escaping your lips at the foreign intrusion, your nails digging into the skin of his back.
âHush, darling... I have you,â he whispered thickly. He held you tight, anchoring you against the mattress as he drove himself deeper. You trembled beneath him, half in tears and choked by little gasps of pain, your body struggling to accommodate his sheer size.
So tight. Gwayne really was on the verge of losing it when he realized he had broken your maidenhead. Still a maid, and I have claimed her.
When he sheathed himself completely, your body stretched against an agonizing fullness and more tears fell from your eyes. Gwayne held himself perfectly still, giving your body a moment to adjust to his length, before pressing a tender kiss to your lips to soothe you and beginning to move.
As his hips drove into yours with bruising thrusts, the initial sting quickly melted away, replaced by a deep, rolling friction that felt incredibly good, drawing whimpers from the back of your throat.
You looked sinful beneath him. His hands slid up from the mattress to cup your face, his thumbs wiping away the stray tears at the corners of your eyes even as his lower body dictated a merciless pace.
There was only the heat, the slick friction binding you together, and a man utterly possessed.
âYou are mine,â Gwayne rasped against your skin, his voice a ragged edge of pure devotion and dark triumph. âFrom this night... until my last.â
The pleasure wound tighter and tighter within youâ until the dam broke, shattering you in a blinding release. You cried out his name, your body clamping tightly around his length.
Fuck.
The pulsing squeeze of your walls was the final blow to his restraintsâ your husband groaned aloud, as he thrusted into you one last time, before collapsing against you and spilling his seeds inside your womb.
You awoke before him.
With the morning light filtered through the velvet curtains, you observed your husbandâs serene, sleeping face. Free from his courtly mask and the heat from the night before, Gwayne looked peaceful, almost like a boy.
Even in sleep, he had one arm on your waist. His red hair was a mess against the sheets, and the blanket barely covered him, exposing the impressive breadth of his backâand the faint red marks where your nails had scratched him last night.
Sweet man, and heâs all mine.
A wave of tenderness washed over you, a deep-seated realization sank that you were truly his woman now. Reaching out, you gently cupped his jaw, the pad of your thumb tracing his cheek.
At your touch, his eyelashes soon fluttered. His eyes blinked open, unfocused with sleep.
âGood morrow, husband,â you fixed a sweet smile, and he blinked blue eyes at you, staring at you in a hazy daze for a moment as his mind worked to bridge the gap between his dreams and reality.
Then, a soft sigh escaped him. He reached out, his strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you against him, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
âForgive me,â he murmured in a drawl, his voice muffled against your skin.
You blinked. âWhat for?â
âI have conducted myself in a manner entirely unbefitting of your husband.â
âOh?â
âI was far from gentle with you,â he mumbled into your neck. âWhen you have asked it from me.â
He really thought that? A giggle bubbled up from your chest, the light sound causing him to curl into you even further, hiding his face like a guilty boy.
âI am perfectly well,â you laughed, hugging him close to your chest. âA bit sore, perhaps, but quite intact.â
You stroked his red hair, and he clung to you a little tighter, as if you were the only anchor he needed. However, you were in the mood of being mischievous.
âAlthough, I must confess, I never knew you had that side in you, husband.â Your lips curling into a smirk as you looked down at him. âI must admit I doubted its existence.â
Gwayne went utterly still in your embrace. Slowly, he pulled back, looking at you with an expression of pure despondence. Then as though he couldnât bear to look at your face, he groaned, clenching his jaw.
âI am glad my utter lack of composure is a source of amusement for the princess.â
His cheeks had started to redden, and your heart swelled. Reaching out, you caught his jaw with one hand and stole a quick kiss, catching him off guard.
âAm I not your wife?â you teased. âWhat is there to be so flustered about?â
âAre you secretly a wanton?â Gwayne fired back, a dimpled, shy smile breaking through his lingering embarrassment. âYou certainly seem fond of kissing me first.â
Would a man so devoted to you not choose you, when he is faced by the impossible choice between his wife and his house?
Mayhaps that was a question that would find its answer in the years to come.
âThis is how you kiss, darling.â
And with that, he leaned in and captured your lips in a chaste yet deep kiss. The shyness that had flushed his cheeks moments ago vanished, replaced by the effortless grace of a man who knew exactly how to cherish his wife.
When he finally parted from you, he didnât pull away far. He rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with your own as the early morning sun caught the rich blue of his eyes, and his grin was the sweetest as he gazed at you.
What is that light shining through the window? It matters less, because you are the sun, and you are in his arms.
WARNINGS: otto hightower, criston cole being a loser, implied rejection of said loser, angst, gwayne is such a lover boy, arguing, slight allusion to nsfw ig, TW: SUICIDE
WORD COUNT: 1.7k
đś : hymne Ă lâamour - ĂŠdith piaf
AN: âĽď¸ - this is by far the most heart breaking thing i've ever written. sad sad ending - TW: suicide.
Criston Cole would be the utter demise of the noble Gwayne Hightower.
That knight (if once could even call him that) had a way of turning Gwayneâs goodnatured air into a poisonous one. For the past several weeks, the Dornishman had been on a conquest, one with the sole purpose of spreading his hate and resentment to those under his command.Â
And just when Gwayne thought Coleâs hatred was dwindling down, your dragon flew overhead a small dispute.
That seemed to reignite something inside him. Cole spent hours spewing horrible, slanderous things about you and the Princess Rhaenyra.Â
Gwayne had had a different reaction to the mere reminder of you. Reduced to his ten and five year old self, he spent his time in a daze, daydreaming and the like.
Youâd been a haunting figure in Gwayneâs life for years.Â
The men sat around the fire, eating their horribly disgusting rations, exchanging tall tales. Cole had taken over the light-hearted nature, and forced it to become a slanderous and honestly obsessive speech about the princesses. Heâd moved on from Rhaenyra, now focusing on you. Sweet, beautiful, and kind you.Â
âShe was always a rough one.â His lip quirked, like he was trying to hint at something unbecoming of a true honorable knight. Of course, Gwayne reminded himself, Cole was not a true knight. A true knight knew when to hold his tongue. âHarsh, like that of a terrible storm. She tore through the Red Keep, leaving chaos in her wake.âÂ
No one dared to correct him. Many that sat around the fire had visited court, had seen the notoriously kind and gentle princess move with the poise of a true noblewoman. Some had even grown up with the Princess. They all knew that she was not at all like the Dornishman said, and yet, none of them stood to defend her.Â
Cowards, the lot of them.Â
Gwayneâs jaw twitched as he waited for the man to redeem himself. Heâd snapped at the Hand only a fortnight ago, and thought it would perhaps be wise to choose patience over impulse.Â
âWomen like that are rare, truly.â Cole, unfortunately, continued. âShe was, in no uncertain terms, a cun-âÂ
In an instance, Gwayne rose to his feet, drew his sword, and held it at the Handâs neck. âWatch your tongue, Sir Criston.âÂ
The air stilled, the once jovial men tense with uncertainty. âIt would be wise to lower your sword, my lord.âÂ
âThe mere concept of wisdom is something completely foreign to you.âÂ
âIt seems-â Criston swallowed. âThat your allegiance has shifted.âÂ
âHow dare you.â Gwayne hissed. âMy allegiance is not to be questioned.âÂ
âIt is-â Criston dared to speak again. âWhen you threaten me after my comment about the princess.âÂ
âI am a man of honor.â Gwayne stepped back, allowing his sword to fall from the manâs neck. âAnd as a man of honor, I cannot stand idly by as you insult a lady. If you dare speak another ill word of her, I will strike you where you sit, the Gods as my witness.âÂ
Criston smirked. âI shall not speak of the Realmâs Horror any longer then.â That comment earns laughs from the men.Â
Gwayne fought the urge to slash his throat in one swell blow. Instead, he turned on his heel, stalking towards his tent. He flung his sword on the floor beside his cot before flinging himself onto the cushion in a most undignified manner.
As he fell asleep, his mind drifted to memories of you. Well, to only one. His fondest.Â
Some Years AgoâŚ
He hadn't seen you in ages, the longing in his heart nearly ready to burst. He knew that Rhaenyra and Alicent had gone off to the library thanks to his spies within the household, and he knew that that meant you were left to your own devices. Â
And so there he waited, watching as you walked through the castle garden, soaked to the bone thanks to the aggressive downpour. You'd abandoned your cloak some time ago, realizing there was no stopping your gown from becoming a wet rag.Â
His hand, gentle yet firm, had gripped your wrist, pulling you into the groundskeeper's shed. You knew who it was instantly; his touch was as familiar to you as Rhaenyra's whines (mostly regarding her father's wishes for her to marry). Still, a gasp left your lips.Â
Gwayne's terribly charming grin looked down at you, his face illuminated thanks to the adjacent window. âGwayne Hightower, you cannot pull a lady-âÂ
âI have missed you.â His head hung low, lips closer than they should be. âYou have been busy.â
âSuch is the life of the heir of the realmâs lady in waiting.â You reached up, brushing a stray hair behind his ear. âI have missed you as well.â
âYour gown-â He looked down, shaking his head in faux disappointment. âIt is ruined.âÂ
âIs it now?â You frowned. âWhat a shame.âÂ
âA shame?â He lowered his lips to the crook of your neck, trailing kisses across your chest. Chills ran down your spine, biting your lips to suppress the urge to moan. âMy darling girl, you have never looked as stunning as you have this very moment.â You glared, shoving his shoulder playfully.Â
âDo not tease, Gwayne.â
âI never tease-â He stopped, correcting his statement before he became a liar. âI only tease when I mean to immediately remedy the situation.â
âAh.â Your arms found their way around his neck, fingers delicately playing with his hair. âMight I ask how you will be remedying this situation?â
âOf course, my lady.â He'd been slowly backing you toward the wall, finding satisfaction in your flustered appearance when your back collided against the partition. âI plan to ravish you-â
âRavish?â You gawked, jaw slack. âGwayne, what if my uncle- the guard-âÂ
âIf you do not wish for me to continueâŚâ He whispered, hands squeezing your hips. âI will obey your commands.â
âNo.â You shook your head, nudging your nose against his. âI never said I did not want to.âÂ
âAh.â His hands pulled at the fabric of your skirt, your stomach twisting at the action and what it alluded to. What it implied was something youâd been wanting for quite some time.Â
âYou know-â You tried your best to seem entirely unbothered. âYou have not kissed me yet.â âHavenât I?â His eyes fluttered to your chest, your heart skipping at his actions. âI believe-â
âI would like a proper kiss.â You grumbled. âI am not a piece of meat, my lord, so you may stop eyeing me like one.â
âI do not eye.â He sounded highly offended. âI am simply taking in the vision that is before me. You are a goddess, the Realmâs Beauty indeed.âÂ
âGwayne-â You tugged on his doublet. âPlease.âÂ
âAs you wish, my lady.â He leaned closer, his left hand left your hip to cup your cheek.Â
You nodded quickly. âIt is.â He then pressed you further into the wall, if that was even possible. His lips never left your skin once, worshipping you like a man possessed. Your eyes closed, head tilting up toward the sky. âGwayne-âÂ
âI could hear my name leave your lips for a lifetime.âÂ
âA lifetime?â Your breath caught at the implication. âWhat do you-âÂ
âYou know.â He murmured against your skin, causing chills to run down your spine. âYou must know.âÂ
âThis-â You sounded utterly wrecked. âThis is not a joking matter, Gwayne.âÂ
âI am not joking.â He pulled your skirts up, tugging at your stockings. âYou think me an unserious rake, I am convinced.âÂ
âYou must forgive me.â You gasped as his hand pawed at your upper thigh, thoughts failing to form coherently. âBut your current actions are proving my point.âÂ
âAre they?â His hand then slid up further, toying with the base of your chemise. âWould you like me to stop?âÂ
âNo!â You slapped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide with fear. âNo.âÂ
âMy lovely girl-â He pulled your hand away, kissing the back gently. The act was so chivalrous that it almost made you forget he was actively taking part in the social ruin of a young noble lady. âI am asking for your hand this afternoon.âÂ
âYou are only saying that.âÂ
âI am not. I have had this planned since a fortnight ago.âÂ
Your legs tightened around his waist. âHave you really?âÂ
He leaned forward, his nose nudging yours. âI love you, Your Highness. Most ardently, and if you will have me, I will make you the happiest woman in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms.â
âI-â You dove down, kissing him soundly. âI will marry you. I will be your wife.âÂ
Of course, because the gods were cruel, his fondest memory was followed by his worst. Heâd left you to go meet with the King and his father, to ask for your hand, hopeful, happy even.
Heâd walked in calm, held his head high, but humble.Â
Heâd even sworn that Viserys was on the verge of saying yes when his own father cut in, destroying his future in one fell swoop. âMy King, I apologize. My son, he has insulted you gravely.âÂ
âOtto-âÂ
âYour niece is of a higher rank. He is only a second son.â Otto glared at his child. âLeave us.âÂ
âFather-â Gwayne puffed his chest, trying his hardest not to look utterly crushed. âI love her, truly and honestly. I would- I would provide her a loving marriage, one of happiness and peace.âÂ
âBut not one that she deserves. Not one fitting of a Princess, am I right?â Otto raised a brow. Gwayne was speechless.
âLeave us. I wonât repeat myself.âÂ
Gwayne hadnât seen you after that day. His father had forbidden it, going so far as to post guards at his door and at the base of the Princessâs balcony. Heâd sent him back to Oldtown, and sent you into a depressive state.Â
A mere fortnight later, Gwayne had been walking through the streets of his home when a villager whispered about the Targaryen princess who flung herself off the tallest point of the castle.Â
And two days later, his own fatherâs raven had confirmed it. You had died from heartbreak, all thanks to Otto Hightower and his scheming.Â
Gwayne knew that you were gone, and yet, when he saw your dragon, he let himself believe that you were still alive. He dared to have hope. And hope would kill him, just as it did his spirit all those years ago.Â
.⌠ÝË pairing: benjamin poindexter x fem!reader.
CHAPTER FOUR:
He shouldn't have done that. He wasn't supposed to do thatâat least not yet.
Now he fucked everything up.
You on the other hand, were perfect. He got to listen to your beautiful voice, to see your beautiful face. But most importantly, you finally saw him.
You talked to him, made perfectly normal conversation like neighbours normally wouldâand he fucked it up.
He should've said something else, he should've asked you more about yourselfâquestions he (of course) didn't need because he knew every single thing about you.
But he should've shown more interest.
.⌠ÝË
You could feel every muscle in your legs tense up the moment you started running, your mind couldn't stop thinking about Dex, the man in the elevator, the dirty blond man who knew things about youâwho noticed you.
Your curious mind wanted to know the same things about him, you knew he was an FBI agent, but you wantedâno, you neededâmore information.
Today was your day off, and you were begging for no emergencies, you had a target, and you had to hit the bullseye.
You didn't know what time Dex was going to get home, or where exactly did he livedâbut if he knew when you came home, you could find out the exact same way he did.
.⌠ÝË
The call came, of course it did. And you had to spend your day off in the hospital, a mass shooting happened, and they needed you over there. The smell of antiseptic filled your nose, numbing your senses, and you were glad your shift just finished.
You knew it was late but you couldn't help it. You slowed your pace two blocks before your apartment building. You pulled out your phone, pretending to do something important, sneaking a couple of glances at the entrace.
Nothing, there was no tall blond man. No familiar face walking out of the door, or trying to enter the building. You thought he was already inside, or maybe he stayed up late working.
Or maybe he'd never lived in the building at all. Just the thought of that made your stomach twist.
You put your phone away, decided to make it across the street, if you wanted to do this, you needed at least one cup of coffee. Through the window, the entrace stayed perfectly in view.
The minutes passed.
5 minutes.
10 minutes.
30 minutes.
You were a woman possessed, you couldn't believe what you were doing. You were a grown woman, stalking your apartment building just because a handsome man remembered what you did for a living.
It should have felt wrong.
But it just felt, intriguingâand you hated that.
Your phone buzzed, taking you out of your trance.
JACK A.
Hey kid, you need to come back. ASAP.
.⌠ÝË
Dex watched everything unfold, his jaw locked tight.
You were there, waiting. Even if you yourself didn't knew what you were doing, he did. He was an expert.
You were looking for him.
No, no, no. It can't beâyou weren't supposed to do that.
You were supposed to go upstairs, take your black scrubs off, shower, make breakfast at 7:30 am that you never even finished and spend forty-five minutes trying to sleep.
Instead, you were searchingâsearching for him.
He started to feel the intensity of his own obsession, he needed to hear your voice, he needed to see your face.
Don't. He said in a low voice, almost like a grunt.
Every instinct screamed to walk downstairs, "accidentally" bump into you again, offer another conversation.
But he'd already rushed things once.
One mistake was enough.
He forced himself to stay where he was, watching you from afar instead. As he always did.
Sooner or later, you'd give up.
You had to.
He needed to.
Instead, he just watched you read a message. One he suspected was from the hospital, the way you rushed your way out, almost hitting a blind man, he could almost hear you say "I'm sorry".
He just knew you all too well.
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