Warnings: Mention of rape (not reader's but to someone she knows).
Word count: 2.1k
A/N: this is just Reader hating on the Hightowers🫶
"The Father's face is stern and strong, he sits and judges right from wrong. He weighs our lives, the short and long, and loves the little children."
The song of the seven
“What do you mean he wants to talk to you again?” asked Cailín, the oldest woman in the kitchen, while peeling the potatoes. She had a milkmaid braid carefully pinned at the top of her silver head, an old but clean dress and an apron that looked just like yours; except yours were folded and stored in the shared closet.
You had your best clothes on and, although it was your day off, you were hanging in the kitchen with the other women you worked with. Normally you would visit the harbour just to breathe the outside air, even if more likely than not it would reek, you needed the time in the open, surrounded by water — the closed castle sometimes got too much of you and you felt trapped — yet today you were forced to stay indoors, all because of him. Ser Gwayne.
“And you won’t believe the reason why I'm being summoned,” you say, biting the cheese. The old, almost too bad to eat cheese, not the one the nobles were served at dinner.
“What reason would a nobleman have to summon a poor servant if not to get between her legs without having to pay for it, pray tell,” answered the girl on the other side of the room, mixing a pan, her forehead were sweaty from the vapour coming from the boiling porridge. “You know how these men are. They are filthy.”
“Tell me about it,” said Cailín, smiling teasingly at you. “I’m still curious, though. I still can't believe I wasn’t here yesterday to witness that. Tell me, my dear, was ser Gwayne so pleasant as the girls tell me?”
You rolled your eyes, smiling.
“He certainly wasn’t hard to look at, I confess” you started, thinking about shining blue eyes and red hair. “Yet Cora is right, those noblemen are all alike.”
“Told you so.”
“Tell me what he wanted then.”
“He wanted to know more about Criston” you said simply and they all turned to look at you.
“Ser Criston?” they all asked in union. You chuckled.
“The fuckwad,” Cailín murmured under her breath, focusing on her potatoes once again.
“Yes, ladies. I’m sorry to break it to you.”
“I wish he actually came here to ask for your favours, it has been some time since we had a scandal.”
You felt a shiver run down your spine. The saying was true: one person's misfortune was always another's entertainment. Although you still weren't certain about ser Gwayne’s reasons or if he was indeed above that, you were curious why he called on you.
That didn’t change anything.
“The porridge is done,” Cora told you at last, after arranging them in the silver tray along with light biscuits and tea. “You can take them to Lord Hightower.”
“Thank you, Cora” raising from the chair, you took the tray and turned to leave.
“Wait a second,” interrupted Cailín, getting up. She came to you and held your face between her wrinkled fingers, they were trembling again. “Don’t be fooled, dear. It may be a pretty face, but so was the Que… Hm, well. Just remember what happened to Dyana, yes?”
You took a deep breath, nodding softly.
“I will take care.”
“Don’t let him deceive you” said Cora, close to you. “If he tries to be funny just remember that we just boiled the water for the tea!”
She jested, but you knew that alone wouldn’t be enough to stop him if he tried.
Ser Gwayne Hightower couldn’t help but feel satisfied that you actually accepted meeting with him.
The room he chose was reserved and quiet, exactly as Alicent assured it would be. She told him it was only used to breakfast or to have small dinners, so it was ideal for the conversation he wished to have.
Gwayne was not confident you'd indulge him initially, but to see you made him glad. You had a certain charm to yourself, with your suspicious expression and un-flowery answer, he had not in his life had many reasons to interact this frequently with any woman that wasn't part of the nobility or high circles, but he found your bluntness refreshing and unlike the manners he grew up surrounded by.
Yet, today you were even more succinct in your answers and distant from him. Mentally and physically. You did not sit with him on the table, preferring instead to stand on the other side of the room.
Perhaps he hadn't thought this ordeal thoroughly, he realised. Although your post as a servant, you were still an unmarried woman. And so to be in the same room with a man you barely knew without a chaperone must be a scandal to you.
“My lady, I…” he started, willing to fix the situation.
You only huffed.
“If you must insist on not addressing me properly, I'd prefer you to simply call me by my name, ser. Do not use ‘my lady’ anymore.”
Gwayne could only nod, uncharacteristic embarrassed. All these years studying proper manners and the court life, all the tutors well-versed in the Red Keep’s ways he had and still he acted as a douche.
It was too late to apologize now.
“If you wish so,” he said sheepishly, still looking down. “Now, will you please have some tea?”
You did so, taking a big sip to calm yourself down, then quickly came back to your standing post. Arms crossed, lips pursed.
“It wasn't my intention to… insinuate anything by inviting you here,” he started, forcing himself to look up at you. He still had manners and he truly wished to express the regret he felt for his wrong conduct.
Your eyebrow arched, but otherwise your expression remained the same.
“What was your intention, then?” you asked and he felt grateful you were willing to listen to him. Well. At least, you showed curiosity, that was a start. Curiosity he could work with.
“What I wanted was… Oh, this is ridiculous” he got up and walked to you, you took a step back so he hesitated.
Your shoulders locked in, clearly tense.
“Trust me when I say I wish you no harm” he whispered your name, oh, so softly. Yet you still had no reason to trust him.
“My Lord,” you started hesitantly, he was still your superior and so you must not say what you truly wished so freely. “You asked me to serve you tea and answer your inquiry about my brother and that is what I will do. It is my duty as a servant. But don't ask anything from me that I cannot comply with. I will not, nevermind you're the King's uncle”
“This is not what I had planned at all, you must believe me,” his voice sincere. His eyes too.
Still, you kept your resolution.
“You gave me no reason to. Now, please ask all you want to know about Criston, so we can put an end to this. I wish to retire to my room,” you said, summoning all the self -control you posses to sound calm. You took a few steps further from him, wanting to have a good portion of room separating the two of you.
He so wished to be in your good graces, but all he tried seemed to have an opposite reaction.
“You must listen to me. I did not… It wasn't my intention…”
Excellent, he thought, he was talking gibberish now.
“What exactly was your intention?” you questioned, eyebrows drawn together. “To humiliate me by calling me a lady when you certainly know I'm not one? To order me to leave my post in the kitchen so you can see me? To make me serve you bloody tea when it is not my job to anymore? To tell you all of Criston’s secrets just because you want to know them? What is it, my lord? I’m certain your intention was much nobler.”
He took a step back, his face pale with a scandalized expression, yet when he did find his voice to reply, to apologise for his mistakes and repent, the main door was opened and he was interrupted.
And who should appear to end your argument if not the Queen Dowager herself?
Your body shivered, went cold as a grave. You did not feel so brave to confront ser Gwayne anymore, instead the realization of how badly you were treating a member of a noble family came to you as a bucket of ice-cold water poured in.
Gods, what were you thinking?
There she was in all her glory.
Although once upon a time you got a very close chance to serve the Queen, this would mark the first time you actually saw her. When you were still a simple maid in charge of serving food, a place in her son's personal servants got vacant and you almost got the part — yet Diana was chosen that night instead. After that you were never close to the loyal family again. The lost opportunity turned into luck was all that you needed to change your career path and become a cook.
You turned your head down the second she entered the room, yet the mere second you saw her was enough to realise she was truly the beauty everyone talked about. The red hair, the fair skin, the immaculate dress. The jewellery.
She looked exactly as you imagined her. Her face contrasted with the surrounding chamber; so stern and austere, showing no sign of joy at being in the room.
You were trembling just imagining of all she and her brother could have done to you for being so insolent. All pointless worry.
She didn’t even think to look in your direction.
“Gwayne” she said, her tone a false sweet singing. “What are you doing here by yourself?”
They made you sit at the table. You insisted on serving the tea — to distance you from them as a reminder you weren't the same. As if you were in need of any, the contrast between the three of you were clear as the sunlight.
After introducing you to the Queen Dowager, Gwayne sat across from you at the table and seemed to have lost his ability to talk. He didn’t interfere with the dynamic that followed; once Alicent came to know who you were related to, she finally took notice of you standing aside and insisted on catching up. She made all the same questions Gwayne had made previously, although with less decorum and more flowery speech.
Although she did try to hide her discontent with your shallow answers, it didn’t come as a surprise to you, as Queen she must be quite used to asking for things and having them delivered without further ado.
She was impatient, Gwayne realised at some point, never before had he seen her treat anybody so poorly.
You answered her as you did to Gwayne, still you made sure to be in your best behaviour and smile whenever you felt her eyes on you. If your tense manners were believable you could not guess, it wasn’t possible to look them in the face. In the time you spent in her Highness's presence, all you had the courage to look at was your own plate. The weight of knowing she could destroy your life out of a whim was unbearable, the worst was the knowledge she had already done so to others before and easily could do it all again. You knew it would be done without any hint of hesitation and there wasn’t a single soul to defend you. You would have to fend for yourself.
It was with difficulty that you managed to not drop the teacup on the ground, for your hands shook insistently.
“It surprises me to know Cole has a sister,” the Queen Dowager said casually. “He never mentioned you before.”
“Alicent!” reproached Gwayne, although this was pestering his mind all along.
Before she could apologize, which you doubly would actually happen, you intervened on her behalf.
“I understand once a knight joins the Sworn Brotherhood he has to forget about his past life in order to serve the royal family best. It is no wonder ser Criston doesn't mention me.”
They said nothing else about it.
After that, the time seemed to prolong through the whole day. Yet, when she was finished with you and left, you came to realize not even a full hour had passed. You said your goodbyes and ran to the kitchen.
Gwayne didn’t follow you, or bid his goodbyes.
I may or may not just recently found out that Gwayne isn't in fact heir to the House Hightower.... I'll be correcting any mention to that in the last chapter, BUT I'll still have him be called my lord. For the plot. Totally. Not for my thirsting.
How are you liking this fic so far? I'm really curious.
i fucking love my country and don't think i'd ever move out but like.... if i could change one little thing about it, i would make it snow in winter. it's winter here and it just don't feel like it! yesterday i had to take a cold shower bc i was sweating (this might be my fault, i usually run hot) but it's so unfair! the best time of the year and i can't even watch a movie set in winter without feeling like im faking it!
gwayne my pretty princess my skittish horse my frightened gazelle nobody's doing the medieval romantic knight renaissance painting serve like you are i love you
⤷ ✶ Upon arriving at Red Keep, Gwayne realizes there's more at stake than the ongoing war.
Or, Gwayne meets Ser Criston Cole's sister. ✶
Warnings: Not much happens in this first chapter, aside from the introduction of characters.
Word count: 2.2k
A/N: It's only fair for me to inform that although Gwayne is Team Green and loves his sister dearly, I do not. Nor does the reader, but Gwayne don't exactly like her brother either so it's fine.
"The Smith, he labours day and night,
to put the world of men to right.
With hammer, plow, and fire bright,
he builds for little children."
The song of the Seven
Ser Gwayne Hightower did not know exactly what, but his mind wasn’t at ease when he arrived at the Red Keep and met his sister for the first time in almost ten years. It was the most awkward reunion, he couldn’t tell what yet he knew something was wrong, odd about her. The Queen Dowager wasn’t the quiet but confident self she was when he left her so many years ago; sure the time ought to have changed her and they're facing a war, still ser Gwayne had a nagging feeling something was amiss.
He felt like he was talking to his own mother in the final weeks of her life, she was self-righteous and religious, faithful to the point of blindness. Alicent didn’t prove herself any more devout than she ought to show in such times, but he couldn't ignore the notion in his head. He decided to investigate.
It was his first night in the castle and after a brief and strange chat with his sister and nephews the uneasiness only grew. It was then decided to get acquainted with the knights and test the waters.
Ser Gwayne sat in the dining hall, along with his men and the Kingsguard, seated beside Ser Criston Cole. Now titled the Hand, the former knight whom he was now supposed to lead an army with. He didn’t like it a bit, though he reasoned it’d be clever to keep his mouth shut about such matters.
The truth was this place made him apprehensive, King’s Landing had nothing on the clear air he was used to in Oldtown, here all reeked of piss and something unnatural. He couldn’t trust his own thoughts around these walls, not even the coming battle he was to face made him this agitated. The people were unrefined and tasteless, he never learned to like the town; for himself alone he felt allowed to acknowledge he was most fortunate to not be obliged to follow his father here. Yet it was not always so, he grew feeling quite resentful of his father for not being requested to come along — as it was asked of Alicent.
It was of no consequence anymore, he knew. It is all in the past, he was forced to remember, and tried to focus on the here and now.
The hall around him was filled with people and although it was expected of him to dine with his family in a more refined room, he denied the pleasant invitation. It was his wish to see what he was getting into. The food served was too spicy and rich for his taste and it was with great surprise he heard a dirty knight yell across the room a praise to ser Criston.
“My compliment to the cook, my Lord Hand!” was said with a most vulgar accent.
Yet ser Criston only nodded, not bothering to look up from his plate. Savouring the food.
What a strange man! That peaked Gwayne's interest.
“I wasn’t aware you led a double life here, ser” Gwayne taunted, raising a brow. “Why only now am I hearing about your culinary skills?”
The knight hummed in acknowledgement of his attempt to strike up a conversation but kept on eating the green broth regardless. Such rude manners, thought Gwayne, but he was used to a more genteel society and ser Criston until short time ago was still simply a knight. For most of his life he was present in the society of lords and ladies but did not participate directly; he must not yet be accustomed to behave as such. He insisted.
“Come on now, I must insist, how do you manage to cook and be the Hand at the same time…?”
“I do not” Criston answered, short and annoyed, showing his true character. “My sister is the cook, they only jest.”
“And what an amazing cook she is,” said another knight. “I wonder if we’ll be graced by her presence before we part.”
“Mine, yes. Say, ser Criston, will she come to say her goodbyes to you?”
“No.”
Ser Gwayne observed as the knight grew increasingly irritated, he was certainly not a person to trifle with.
“And why is that? Won’t she want to pay her respects to you?”
“If she knows what is best for herself, she won’t come.” With that, he got up and left. Leaving behind a throughout clean plate.
Gwayne knew then the answer would lead him somewhere.
Ser Gwayne Hightower came to know about your existence in the most unexpected manner.
It was shocking how easily one could get a hold of information in the Red Keep when money was involved. Well, money and reputation — being the Dowager Queen’s brother helped, ser Gwayne supposed. Either way, the matter was settled and he was on his way to the kitchen.
Learning that ser Criston’s sister still worked as a cook when the knight himself was presently in a fairly more advanced position was most curious and so Gwayne decided to investigate the girl to see if he could understand why. He had a gut feeling the knight was onto something; he did not like it a bit, not when they were about to lead an army together into battle. So much could go wrong so fast, Gwayne needed to know what was going on. What was his sister’s secrecy about.
It was so unlike Gwayne to question other knight’s personal lives and doubt their honour that he was starting to doubt his own instincts. These instincts never failed him before and he didn’t particularly wish to turn his back on them now, not when they were the reason he survived so far as a knight. So he followed the instructions the servants gave and passed the last door to the kitchen.
Before he could ever see your face, he heard your laughter.
Loud. Happy. Unladylike.
That alone was enough to stop him in his tracks.
Then, quickly so nobody could see him hesitate, he composed himself, fixed his posture and turned the last corner. And saw you.
You had your back to him and idle chatted with the other women in the room. You were occupied with mixing a pot with boiling broth and you didn’t realise he entered the room; the women around soon found each a task to do and shut their mouth. You did not.
“So I told him I would prefer to be sent to clean King Aegon's chamber pot than…” you laughed again, turning around. Gasped, the wooden spoon falling from your hands.
“M'lord” you bowed, wide eyes, and gathered the spoon in a swift move. You left it in the sink. “My apologies.”
“I should be the one apologizing, my lady” he stepped forward. “It is all my fault, I should've introduced myself. I'm most sorry, it wasn't my intention to startle you.”
You only nodded, your expression wary like that of your brother. Gwayne could see your full eyebrow furrowed, even though you still didn't look at him.
“You're too kind, but I'm not a lady, ser. Only a servant.”
Gwayne shook his head, feeling warmth creeping up his neck. Finally understanding why the refusal to face him.
“Of course, I apologize again.”
“Can I be of service, ser? The food was almost ready, the maids were about to take it to the dining hall.”
Although your merry tone, your face didn't reveal anything at all, still guarded. Gwayne had the impression you wished him gone. How could you not? He was keeping you from your work and still didn’t say his name nor explained his motive for being there. And he was a stranger to this place as well, you must be wondering where he had come from. He decided to amend that by justifying himself.
“Yes, actually. I was hoping you could help me with a particular matter.”
You huffed, astonished by his forwardness, and finally looked up at him. And what beautiful eyes did you have, large and glowing with emotion.
“Ser,” you said, serious. “You must be confused. This is the kitchen floor, I can only help with food, not with…”
Gwayne's neck and ears burned hotter.
“My lady” he interrupted, forgetting once again your title, suddenly understanding her unwilling manner. Of course, I’m to her simply a stranger, he thought, bold enough as to importune her at her work. With the most wicked purpose! he realised, ashamed. “I only mean help concerning your brother.”
“M'lord, I don't quite comprehend your meaning,” you stated, much more annoyed than curious now. “You mean to tell me ser Criston wished dearly to see me before parting? Whatever for?”
Ser Gwayne nodded, sipping the sweet tea you made him. He wasn't as tall or wide as some of the White Cloaks you knew, but still very elegantly tall, and was currently sitting cross legged at the kitchen table that proved to be too small for his statue.
His manners were giving you flashbacks of the time, not long ago, you served as a chambermaid and brought the food to the ladies and lords upstairs - although troubled, his reason made you curious. You truly wished he had left already and being alone with him didn't help your peace of mind either; however, it wasn't like you could send him away. He was the brother of the Queen Dowager and is to inherit the Hightower castle; you suspect he wouldn't accept a “no” as an answer. Especially not from a servant; so you complied.
“Exactly, my lady” said he, once again mocking you by giving a title that wasn't yours. It was infuriating, not that you could ever show how offending it was, lords like him fancied themselves charming whenever they made these goodhearted mistakes. Yet this one was clever enough to show some embarrassment whenever he mistitle you — he shook his head lightly and cleaned his throat. “The Lord Hand showed himself eager, hopeful even, to have a chance to see you before parting. I understand you came to King's Landing together when you were quite young, right?”
“Yes, m'lord. Ser Criston was but six and ten when we first arrived at Flea Bottom.”
“Six and ten! He was quite young indeed.”
“Yes, but he only became a knight much later.”
He nodded again.
“Yes, I remember the day,” ser Gwayne murmured thoughtfully. “Yet you are originally from Dorne. What brought the two of you here?”
“Criston always wished to be a knight. He was so very skilled, I believed he had a good chance to become one here in King's Landing.”
“So it was your idea, I presume, to come here instead of staying in Dorne.”
You hesitate. Why didn’t he question ser Criston about this particular matter? He would answer them gladly, the fact he had a humble background and still made it to become a white cloak along with so many lords and noblemen always made him very proud of himself.
There was a time you were proud of him too.
“Oh, no, ser. It was all ser Criston dear wish” you said cautiously, you didn't know what history your brother was telling people nowadays. You decided to go with the truth, more simple that way. “But we had very little to hold us back there. After our parents died, as the eldest daughter, I felt responsible to give him the future our parents couldn't. At least, the chance to make a name for himself. And prove himself worthy he did, as you see.”
“Yes, indeed,” Gwayne replied, pensive.
Ser Gwayne had much to say, but nothing he could ask without the risk of intruding your personal matters and seemingly too forward in his requests. His doubts were far from being clarified: why did ser Criston allow his sister to live in misery when he now held the power to help you? Did you do something so terrible as to now be out of Criston’s good grace? Or was he the one wrong? Could it simply be sibling rivalry?
He doubted it; ser Gwayne couldn’t think of a single misconduct or error of judgment that could lead him to abandon Alicent. Surely it was so with every family, even with one that didn’t come from wealthy, right? Ser Criston came to become a knight out of his own ability and talent, he couldn’t be so unfeeling as to leave his only sister to fend for herself without a reason. And a good one it must be.
Gwayne just couldn’t fathom what happened, so far you've been honest in your approach and had such a fair face. He would have to look into it.
“May I be so bold to question you, ser?” you woke him from his thoughts.
Gwayne looked up at you. You had not made an attempt to converse the whole time he was in the kitchen, only answered his questions and stayed quiet otherwise. He couldn't help but smile.
“I hardly have a reason to deny you, my lady. You complied with my questionnaire without hesitation, ask what you please. I'll be glad to answer.”
You smiled back pleasantly.
“I thank you, ser," you said in a singsong tone. "I am only curious about one thing. If my brother is so anxious I say my goodbye to him, why didn't he come to me himself?”
Writing Gwayne was so much fun. He is a little shit and I love him very much.
Like, yes, he is the knight in shinning armour and he's fair and just and genteel and wants to settle thing right with his sister. BUT!!! He is also a very pompous man that lives in a ivory tower (pun intended).
And the Reader!!!! Ugh, love her. Her relationship with her brother isn't going so well (I wrote this last year when I had the biggest fight with my brother and took great inspiration) but she tries and loves him! Our girl DO NOT trust the loyalty for reasons I'll disclose latter on and having Gwayne around gives her major headache. Worry not, they'll work it out hehehe
ALSO! the green broth mentioned is my fav dish EVER! I know that broths are a very popular dish everywhere and that almost every country has its own recipe, but our Caldo Verde is, in my humble opinion, the best. We eat it in the winter here, so I'm thinking I might cook some this week...
For now, that's all I have to say. Hope you enjoyed it as much as i did. See ya!
"Cook" by Eduard Charlemont and a cut from "Kiss me and you'll kiss the 'lasses" by Lily Martin Spencer are the paintings used!
English is not my native language, so please let me know if you find any grammar or spelling mistake.
Made a few minors edits! Not in the text itself, just the description (?). Realized that there was no mention of Reader being Cole's sister before and that is a quite important information.
⤷ ✶ Upon arriving at Red Keep, Gwayne realizes there's more at stake than the ongoing war.
Or, Gwayne meets Ser Criston Cole's sister. ✶
Warnings: Not much happens in this first chapter, aside from the introduction of characters.
Word count: 2.2k
A/N: It's only fair for me to inform that although Gwayne is Team Green and loves his sister dearly, I do not. Nor does the reader, but Gwayne don't exactly like her brother either so...
"The Smith, he labours day and night,
to put the world of men to right.
With hammer, plow, and fire bright,
he builds for little children."
The song of the Seven
Ser Gwayne Hightower did not know exactly what, but his mind wasn’t at ease when he arrived at the Red Keep and met his sister for the first time in almost ten years. It was the most awkward reunion, he couldn’t tell what yet he knew something was wrong, odd about her. The Queen Dowager wasn’t the quiet but confident self she was when he left her so many years ago; sure the time ought to have changed her and they're facing a war, still ser Gwayne had a nagging feeling something was amiss.
He felt like he was talking to his own mother in the final weeks of her life, she was self-righteous and religious, faithful to the point of blindness. Alicent didn’t prove herself any more devout than she ought to show in such times, but he couldn't ignore the notion in his head. He decided to investigate.
It was his first night in the castle and after a brief and strange chat with his sister and nephews the uneasiness only grew. It was then decided to get acquainted with the knights and test the waters.
Ser Gwayne sat in the dining hall, along with his men and the Kingsguard, seated beside Ser Criston Cole. Now titled the Hand, the former knight whom he was now supposed to lead an army with. He didn’t like it a bit, though he reasoned it’d be clever to keep his mouth shut about such matters.
The truth was this place made him apprehensive, King’s Landing had nothing on the clear air he was used to in Oldtown, here all reeked of piss and something unnatural. He couldn’t trust his own thoughts around these walls, not even the coming battle he was to face made him this agitated. The people were unrefined and tasteless, he never learned to like the town; for himself alone he felt allowed to acknowledge he was most fortunate to not be obliged to follow his father here. Yet it was not always so, he grew feeling quite resentful of his father for not being requested to come along — as it was asked of Alicent.
It was of no consequence anymore, he knew. It is all in the past, he was forced to remember, and tried to focus on the here and now.
The hall around him was filled with people and although it was expected of him to dine with his family in a more refined room, he denied the pleasant invitation. It was his wish to see what he was getting into. The food served was too spicy and rich for his taste and it was with great surprise he heard a dirty knight yell across the room a praise to ser Criston.
“My compliment to the cook, my Lord Hand!” was said with a most vulgar accent.
Yet ser Criston only nodded, not bothering to look up from his plate. Savouring the food.
What a strange man! That peaked Gwayne's interest.
“I wasn’t aware you led a double life here, ser” Gwayne taunted, raising a brow. “Why only now am I hearing about your culinary skills?”
The knight hummed in acknowledgement of his attempt to strike up a conversation but kept on eating the green broth regardless. Such rude manners, thought Gwayne, but he was used to a more genteel society and ser Criston until short time ago was still simply a knight. For most of his life he was present in the society of lords and ladies but did not participate directly; he must not yet be accustomed to behave as such. He insisted.
“Come on now, I must insist, how do you manage to cook and be the Hand at the same time…?”
“I do not” Criston answered, short and annoyed, showing his true character. “My sister is the cook, they only jest.”
“And what an amazing cook she is,” said another knight. “I wonder if we’ll be graced by her presence before we part.”
“Mine, yes. Say, ser Criston, will she come to say her goodbyes to you?”
“No.”
Ser Gwayne observed as the knight grew increasingly irritated, he was certainly not a person to trifle with.
“And why is that? Won’t she want to pay her respects to you?”
“If she knows what is best for herself, she won’t come.” With that, he got up and left. Leaving behind a throughout clean plate.
Gwayne knew then the answer would lead him somewhere.
Ser Gwayne Hightower came to know about your existence in the most unexpected manner.
It was shocking how easily one could get a hold of information in the Red Keep when money was involved. Well, money and reputation — being the Dowager Queen’s brother helped, ser Gwayne supposed. Either way, the matter was settled and he was on his way to the kitchen.
Learning that ser Criston’s sister still worked as a cook when the knight himself was presently in a fairly more advanced position was most curious and so Gwayne decided to investigate the girl to see if he could understand why. He had a gut feeling the knight was onto something; he did not like it a bit, not when they were about to lead an army together into battle. So much could go wrong so fast, Gwayne needed to know what was going on. What was his sister’s secrecy about.
It was so unlike Gwayne to question other knight’s personal lives and doubt their honour that he was starting to doubt his own instincts. These instincts never failed him before and he didn’t particularly wish to turn his back on them now, not when they were the reason he survived so far as a knight. So he followed the instructions the servants gave and passed the last door to the kitchen.
Before he could ever see your face, he heard your laughter.
Loud. Happy. Unladylike.
That alone was enough to stop him in his tracks.
Then, quickly so nobody could see him hesitate, he composed himself, fixed his posture and turned the last corner. And saw you.
You had your back to him and idle chatted with the other women in the room. You were occupied with mixing a pot with boiling broth and you didn’t realise he entered the room; the women around soon found each a task to do and shut their mouth. You did not.
“So I told him I would prefer to be sent to clean King Aegon's chamber pot than…” you laughed again, turning around. Gasped, the wooden spoon falling from your hands.
“M'lord” you bowed, wide eyes, and gathered the spoon in a swift move. You left it in the sink. “My apologies.”
“I should be the one apologizing, my lady” he stepped forward. “It is all my fault, I should've introduced myself. I'm most sorry, it wasn't my intention to startle you.”
You only nodded, your expression wary like that of your brother. Gwayne could see your full eyebrow furrowed, even though you still didn't look at him.
“You're too kind, but I'm not a lady, ser. Only a servant.”
Gwayne shook his head, feeling warmth creeping up his neck. Finally understanding why the refusal to face him.
“Of course, I apologize again.”
“Can I be of service, ser? The food was almost ready, the maids were about to take it to the dining hall.”
Although your merry tone, your face didn't reveal anything at all, still guarded. Gwayne had the impression you wished him gone. How could you not? He was keeping you from your work and still didn’t say his name nor explained his motive for being there. And he was a stranger to this place as well, you must be wondering where he had come from. He decided to amend that by justifying himself.
“Yes, actually. I was hoping you could help me with a particular matter.”
You huffed, astonished by his forwardness, and finally looked up at him. And what beautiful eyes did you have, large and glowing with emotion.
“Ser,” you said, serious. “You must be confused. This is the kitchen floor, I can only help with food, not with…”
Gwayne's neck and ears burned hotter.
“My lady” he interrupted, forgetting once again your title, suddenly understanding her unwilling manner. Of course, I’m to her simply a stranger, he thought, bold enough as to importune her at her work. With the most wicked purpose! he realised, ashamed. “I only mean help concerning your brother.”
“M'lord, I don't quite comprehend your meaning,” you stated, much more annoyed than curious now. “You mean to tell me ser Criston wished dearly to see me before parting? Whatever for?”
Ser Gwayne nodded, sipping the sweet tea you made him. He wasn't as tall or wide as some of the White Cloaks you knew, but still very elegantly tall, and was currently sitting cross legged at the kitchen table that proved to be too small for his statue.
His manners were giving you flashbacks of the time, not long ago, you served as a chambermaid and brought the food to the ladies and lords upstairs - although troubled, his reason made you curious. You truly wished he had left already and being alone with him didn't help your peace of mind either; however, it wasn't like you could send him away. He was the brother of the Queen Dowager and is to inherit the Hightower castle; you suspect he wouldn't accept a “no” as an answer. Especially not from a servant; so you complied.
“Exactly, my lady” said he, once again mocking you by giving a title that wasn't yours. It was infuriating, not that you could ever show how offending it was, lords like him fancied themselves charming whenever they made these goodhearted mistakes. Yet this one was clever enough to show some embarrassment whenever he mistitle you — he shook his head lightly and cleaned his throat. “The Lord Hand showed himself eager, hopeful even, to have a chance to see you before parting. I understand you came to King's Landing together when you were quite young, right?”
“Yes, m'lord. Ser Criston was but six and ten when we first arrived at Flea Bottom.”
“Six and ten! He was quite young indeed.”
“Yes, but he only became a knight much later.”
He nodded again.
“Yes, I remember the day,” ser Gwayne murmured thoughtfully. “Yet you are originally from Dorne. What brought the two of you here?”
“Criston always wished to be a knight. He was so very skilled, I believed he had a good chance to become one here in King's Landing.”
“So it was your idea, I presume, to come here instead of staying in Dorne.”
You hesitate. Why didn’t he question ser Criston about this particular matter? He would answer them gladly, the fact he had a humble background and still made it to become a white cloak along with so many lords and noblemen always made him very proud of himself.
There was a time you were proud of him too.
“Oh, no, ser. It was all ser Criston dear wish” you said cautiously, you didn't know what history your brother was telling people nowadays. You decided to go with the truth, more simple that way. “But we had very little to hold us back there. After our parents died, as the eldest daughter, I felt responsible to give him the future our parents couldn't. At least, the chance to make a name for himself. And prove himself worthy he did, as you see.”
“Yes, indeed,” Gwayne replied, pensive.
Ser Gwayne had much to say, but nothing he could ask without the risk of intruding your personal matters and seemingly too forward in his requests. His doubts were far from being clarified: why did ser Criston allow his sister to live in misery when he now held the power to help you? Did you do something so terrible as to now be out of Criston’s good grace? Or was he the one wrong? Could it simply be sibling rivalry?
He doubted it; ser Gwayne couldn’t think of a single misconduct or error of judgment that could lead him to abandon Alicent. Surely it was so with every family, even with one that didn’t come from wealthy, right? Ser Criston came to become a knight out of his own ability and talent, he couldn’t be so unfeeling as to leave his only sister to fend for herself without a reason. And a good one it must be.
Gwayne just couldn’t fathom what happened, so far you've been honest in your approach and had such a fair face. He would have to look into it.
“May I be so bold to question you, ser?” you woke him from his thoughts.
Gwayne looked up at you. You had not made an attempt to converse the whole time he was in the kitchen, only answered his questions and stayed quiet otherwise. He couldn't help but smile.
“I hardly have a reason to deny you, my lady. You complied with my questionnaire without hesitation, ask what you please. I'll be glad to answer.”
You smiled back pleasantly.
“I thank you, ser," you said in a singsong tone. "I am only curious about one thing. If my brother is so anxious I say my goodbye to him, why didn't he come to me himself?”
Writing Gwayne was so much fun. He is a little shit and I love him very much.
Like, yes, he is the knight in shinning armour and he's fair and just and genteel and wants to settle thing right with his sister. BUT!!! He is also a very pompous man that lives in a ivory tower (pun intended).
And the Reader!!!! Ugh, love her. Her relationship with her brother isn't going so well (I wrote this last year when I had the biggest fight with my brother and took great inspiration) but she tries and loves him! Our girl DO NOT trust the loyalty for reasons I'll disclose latter on and having Gwayne around gives her major headache. Worry not, they'll work it out hehehe
ALSO! the green broth mentioned is my fav dish EVER! I know that broths are a very popular dish everywhere and that almost every country has its own recipe, but our Caldo Verde is, in my humble opinion, the best. We eat it in the winter here, so I'm thinking I might cook some this week...
For now, that's all I have to say. Hope you enjoyed it as much as i did. See ya!
"Cook" by Eduard Charlemont and a cut from "Kiss me and you'll kiss the 'lasses" by Lily Martin Spencer are the paintings used!
English is not my native language, so please let me know if you find any grammar or spelling mistake.
