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CHAINS OF LOVE

CHAPTER TWO: THE ART OF TEASING THE PIOUS

PAIRING: sworn protector!gwayne hightower x fem!targtower reader

SUMMARY: a fortnight after the events of your name day tourney, you find yourself drawn to your uncle after an incident occurred during a small council meeting. teasing was always a game you indulged in, so why not let uncle gwayne play?

WORD COUNT: 4.7K

AUTHORS NOTE: this is 100% one of my favourite chapters!!! it was so fun to write and even beat chapter five in my most anticipated!!! i hope you guys liked it!!!

HIGH VALYRIAN IS IN ITALICS

a fortnight had passed since the day of ser mark’s funeral. a fortnight since your mother went behind your back and appointed your uncle gwayne as your new sworn protector. in those days, the opened wound of ser mark’s death laid infected and pulsing, your sorrow not yet wanting to leave. gwayne tried to cheer you up, being as honourable as ever, but it struck a nerve that no one in your family or court seemed to care about the death of a respected knight, and you set a path to remedy that.

it came to be at a council meeting, one you snuck your way into with the guise that you cared about the issues of the realm. nowhere in your soul did you worry about petitions or meetings filled with stuffy men who held too many opinions, but your father bought it, and with open arms, he allowed you to sit in on this one meeting. alicent looked at you skeptically, her brow raised in accusation, yet you just grinned at your mother, feigning innocence.

the meeting started off normally, questions and answers being bounced back and forth with quick ease. you could feel your eyes roll back into your head as some lords said things so stupid, you wondered if they had a brain in their skull. it took almost an hour, but lord tyland lannister threw the bait, and you had to bite your cheek to stop yourself from strangling the man at his words.

“what of the kings guard, your grace?” tyland asked innocently, not knowing you were seething with rage a few seats away from him. “the white cloaks are an honoured bunch, and some of the common folk aren’t treating them as such.”

king viserys hadn’t had time to open his rotting mouth before your venomous mouth snapped open like an awaiting shark, eyes narrowed at the lannister as the rest of the council went deathly silent.

“how humorous of you to say that, lord lannister. you care so much about the kings guard yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about ser mark’s death.” tyland’s face dropped, the rest of the council gaping at the princess who just had the gull to cut off the king. alicent nearly bit her nails to the bone of her finger, glaring harshly at her daughter as the only sound that made its way through the room was the crows cawing outside.

lord lannister sputtered out a semblance of a response, but you were quicker, throwing up your hand and cutting off his attempt at insolent words. “don’t even try to defend yourself. it’s clear you, or any of the people in this room, cared little about mark mullendore. i was the only one at his funeral after all. did you witness it, lord tyland? the smoke engulfing ser mark’s body?”

alicent smacked her hands on the table, causing everyone to jolt in their spots. you didn’t move a muscle, staring down your mother with a defiant look that rivaled the one you gave her on the tourney grounds a fortnight ago. “enough!” she snapped, glaring daggers in your direction. her voice was icy, and you couldn’t stop the chill from seeping into your bones. “you will end this childish tirade. ser mark was a respected man, we all could see that.”

a scoff left your lips, fingers digging into the wood of your chair as you fought against your kin. “that’s a laughable claim, mother. for no one in this room batted an eye when he was dying from sickness. did he care that little to you? a man who protected me from when i was just a child?”

the deepness of alicent’s eye roll hit you in the chest, smoke emerging from your mouth in metaphorical tufts. somewhere deep in the dragon pit, moonfyre roared, snarling at the closest dragon keeper with unbidden teeth.

before alicent could reprimand you, a smooth voice came from across the table, your head whipping to the irritating face of lord larys strong. the daft club footed man always got on your nerves, seemingly having something to say at any given moment. it was apparent that he felt like he had a say in this argument, his hand resting on his cane beside his chair.

“ser mark was respected, my princess. it’s just that he couldn’t parry well enough, or even hold a candle to a knight such as ser criston.” the man clicked his tongue, hiding his grin at your fire-filled eyes. “tragic, really.”

along the wall, gwayne stood with ser criston, glaring at the strong man who had the nerve to speak to you in such manor. he could feel the smugness radiating off of criston, and gwayne wanted to do nothing more than punch it off the arrogant knights face.

your restraint broke in a snap, hands smacking against the table in a similar manor to what alicent did early. yet you didn’t stay still. you lunged across the table at larys, nails out like claws as you went to scratch at his infuriating face. “you insolent, clubfoot freak-!”

“seize her!” a lord yelled, the rest scrambling from the table as alicent pinched her nose, viserys holding back his smile at his daughters strength. criston swept forward to grab you around the waist, yet gwayne was quicker, jerking back the knights arm with the strength of a thousand men. criston met gwayne’s glare was a sneer of his own, going to push the hightower man off of him. yet gwayne was quicker, pulling criston back and whispering menacingly for only the two to hear.

“you touch her, and i’ll have your hands.” with that, gwayne pushed criston back, moving forward to reach for the thrashing girl who somehow acquired larys’ cane and was currently attempting to hit him with it.

in a fellow swoop, gwayne wrapped both his arms around your waist, pulling you back away from the table as you kicked and squirmed in his hold. he could feel the heat radiating off your skin, and similarly to his interaction with you when you tried to charge aegon, he pulled you away with your legs swinging in the air, your body suspended in his hold as he pulled you toward the council rooms doors.

“i will get you, you toad!” the words came out of your throat in a shrill scream, face red as you attempted to pull out of gwayne’s strong grip. “i will get you and shove that cane up your arse-!”

“that’s enough, princess.” gwayne whispered in your ear, slamming the heavy oak door behind him as he moved the two of you to a quiet and isolated alcove in the hall. he pushed his back against the wall, holding you tight until he knew you wouldn’t charge towards the council room in fury.

your shoulders heaved as you radiated with anger, cheeks hot and belly clenched as you simmered with rage. no one in this god forsaken keep seemed to care about ser mark, and their mockery of his life made you want to smack something.

your back was pressed the gwayne’s chest, the plate of his armour digging into your exposed shoulder blades as he held you firm against his body. your feet were firmly placed on the ground, slippered toes digging into the cobblestone as you tried to restraint yourself. gwayne’s breath was hitting your neck, and you felt a chill wrack your body at the feeling.

“there you go,” gwayne whispered, smoothing down an unkempt piece of your hair that had come out of your braid crown. “breathe for me.” you took in a gulp of air, trying to calm yourself as gwayne continued breathing against your skin. “just like that. good girl.”

a chill ran down your spine at gwayne’s words, his hands splayed on your stomach searing. you wore a plum coloured dress of the finest silk, the material thin enough to feel your uncles palms through the fabric. your ass was aligned perfectly with his crotch, and you wondered what would happen if you just rolled your hips, feeling the appendage that rested between your uncles legs-

“princess?” gwayne questioned, pulling you out of your perverse reverie. for the first time in a long time, your cheeks dusted pink, your head spinning as you ripped yourself out of gwayne’s hold, spinning around on your slippers and staring at him with forced narrow eyes.

“you shouldn’t have pulled me back.” you demanded, crossing your arms across your chest petulantly. “larys is a snake, one my father desperately needs as master of whispers.” a grin broke out onto your lips, a thought blanketing your brain of pure ecstasy. “i could’ve whacked him with that silly cane of his. gave him a swollen eye. one that he deserved.”

gwayne sighed at your words, moving forward to place a soft calloused hand on your shoulder. you tensed at the feeling, body still remembering his hands on your stomach. “he wasn’t worth it,” he reasoned, squeezing your skin to make you understand. “none of them are. you needn’t fight a cause that won’t get you to your end goal.”

a scoff tore from your lips, jerking your shoulder out of gwayne’s hold to back away from him. he didn’t understand. of course he didn’t, no one did. you felt alone in a war that no one else was fighting in, a lonesome feat that had tears of anger welling in your eyes.

“why can’t anyone see that he was a good man?” you sniffled, treacherous salty streams coming down your cheeks, your hands furiously trying to wipe away their tracks. “they diminish him. talk down on him like he wasn’t good enough to be a princess of the realms sworn protector.”

your hand shot out in a fist, punching against gwayne’s breast plate with a defiant crack. he startled where he stood, unknowingly stepping back and away from your tirade of blows. your feet parried him in his steps, following him until gwayne was backed against the wall, your knuckles aching as you continued to punch his metal armour.

“i hate this stupid castle!” you wailed, gwayne staring down at you with a worried frown as you kept hitting him. “i hate the people who inhabit it, and i hate my lifeless family!”

gwayne’s hand shot out like a bullet, gripping both of your wrists in one palm and holding them in between your chests. his breaths entangled with your ragged ones, forehead brushing against yours as he tried to calm you down. “you don’t mean those words.” gwayne reasoned, voice breathless and breaching a whisper. “they’re your family, and the septons say we must love our family.”

a bitter laugh left your lips, acidic on your tongue as your lilac eyes bore into your uncles. “what’s there to love? my fathers a corpse, mother a liar and a whore who’s too busy fucking criston cole to worry about her kids. aegon’s a creep, helaena a mouse, and aemond a shadow.” your voice cracked at the end, giving away to your emotions. “there’s nothing for me to love, dear uncle. just ghosts who dance around me with no care for my well being.”

“you can love me.” gwayne’s words came out in a surprised whisper, like he wasn’t expecting them to come out of his mouth. you looked up at him shocked, your tear rimmed eyes bugged as gwayne squeezed your wrists in comfort. “i am your protector, but at the end of the day, i am kin, sweet niece. i will look after you, and let you love me to your hearts content.”

his words struck you deep, a cord inside of you that yearned for familial affection strumming at the sound of gwayne’s smooth and swaying voice. you knew he didn’t mean anything perverse by it, but your brain wandered to those dark places, the thread of yearning for a family member who cares fraying as your lust got in the way.

incestuous relationships weren’t uncommon in your family. aegon and helaena were married, while your half-sister, rhaenyra, married your uncle daemon. ‘if my sisters can do it, why can’t i?’ you thought, wanting to smack yourself on the head for thinking such foolishness.

you reached a finger upwards to trace the curve of gwayne’s jaw, feeling the sharpness of the bone underneath the pad of your pointer. gwayne’s eyebrows furrowed at the action, his confusion seeping out of his pores and wrapping around you like poison ivy branches.

“would you let me love you, ser gwayne?” you whispered, a sultriness to your voice that you didn’t know you could muster. maybe it was the lack of male attention in your life. or maybe it was the fact that the last time you tried to court a noble boy, he called you a craven, stepped on your foot during your dance, and ran away to snog the mooton girl behind the grand staircase. you were utterly pathetic, leaving the small acts of affection from your uncle making you feel all warm and stuffy.

gwayne’s eyes bugged, his hand letting go of your wrists like they burned. his cheeks flushed a pale red, showing off his embarrassment and shame to your actions. he wasn’t used to the customs of targaryen’s, and it was stiflingly obvious by his reaction.

softly pushing off of the wall and away from your body, gwayne stepped as far back from you as possible, watching with bated breath at the smirk that ignited on your lips. “this isn’t proper, my princess.” he whispered, placing his hands behind his back as a way to hide the fact that he was digging his nails into their beds.

your smirk turned into a teeth-filled grin, hands finding their way to your hips as you stared down at gwayne defiantly. he was shaking where he stood, and with the way his eyes were roving over the square neckline of your plume dress, you knew his restraint was about to snap.

“propriety has never been my strongest attribute.” you whispered, subtly pushing your chest out in a vile manner. gwayne noticeably gulped, drawing blood as he picked at his nail beds ferociously, trying to ground himself from your advances. “c’mon uncle, you touched me before. why not do it again?”

gwayne bit his cheek, digging his molars into the soft skin of his mouth as he tried to steel himself in honour. you were a princess, the kings youngest daughter. he was your protector and uncle for sevens sake, not a man who lusted over you like some lowborn commoner. he needed to pride himself on his restraint, and even though you looked ravishing in your silken dress, the corset hugging your curves beautifully, gwayne knew he had to abhor his knightly virtues.

“i-i can’t-“ gwayne chocked on his words, watching a teasing lilt dance in your eyes. he closed his own, trying to get himself under control before he’d do something he’d regret. “princess, you know i can’t-“

“can’t? or won’t?” you chided, swishing your hips as you walked up towards your knight. gwayne stood rigid, his back rod straight as he eyed up your moving frame. your breasts were moving closer to his chest, and he had to stop himself from staring at the peaks before you noticed. “stay here and indulge in me, uncle.” you whispered, placing your hands on his chest. “or leave and subdue yourself to my constant teasing.”

looking at you through his lashes, gwayne took in your ultimatum, throwing the options back and forth in his head before he stopped on the most important point; his virtue. he wouldn’t soil a maiden princess of the realm, let alone one who was his niece. with great restraint, he pulled himself away from your touch, backing up and staring at you deeply with muddy brown irises.

“i will be in the training yard, my princess,” he bit out, staring at you pointedly. “if you need me, all you need to do is shout.”

you watched with a slowly growing grin as he turned around and rounded out of the alcove, his cape swishing behind him as he moved further and further away from you. it seemed your uncle gwayne had made his decision, and if he wanted to play your games, then so be it.

the moment with your uncle happened a week after your name day, and in the following week since, you found yourself doing your best to make his thinly veiled resolve snap.

lingering touches left on his arm, calling him to aid you in tying your laces, asking him to brush out your hair at night. gwayne was going to explode if you didn’t stop appointing him all these seemingly innocent yet scandalizing tasks, the man feeling like he was loosing his sanity as you continued to tease him.

aemond picked up on it instantly, his ever watchful gaze following your greedy fingers on gwayne’s shoulders as you walked into the hall to break your fast one morning. you sat across from the one-eyed man in indifference, not paying attention to his raised brow as you looked behind your shoulder and threw a bright smile at gwayne.

“what is this game you’re playing, dear sister?” high valyrian wrapped around aemond’s tongue like silk, his hands placed firmly on the table as you continued to cut at the meat on your plate. “do not tell me you’re torturing our poor uncle.”

a thinly hidden grin broke out on your lips, your head downward as you tried to keep it unknown from aemond. he continued to look at you with slim expectance, waiting for you to give your final answer. “i would not call it torture,” you replied, accent thick as aemond’s brow lifted higher. “i would call it a fun game of cat and mouse.”

“does he know he is entangled in your web of charades?” aemond’s question wasn’t out of worry for gwayne; he couldn’t care less about what you did with their uncle. he just couldn’t help the curiosity that spiked into him when you would leave lingering touches on gwayne, whispering things in his ear that made him blush.

a scoff tore past your lips, making a grin wash its way onto your cheeks that you showed to aemond with grand teeth. “trust me, brother. he has known since the day i called larys strong a toad.”

aemond smirked at your words, feeling a semblance of pride in his chest. he was never a fan of larys, the both of you long droning on about how the man was nothing but skittered rodent who deserved to be shipped off back to harrenhal.

“what are you two conversing about?” down the table, alicent squinted at her children, watching as the language she didn’t understand left their lips in a fast cadence. she turned to aegon, smacking the boys hand as he went to grab another flagon of wine. “what are they saying, aegon?”

the man only shrugged, jerking out of alicent’s touch so he could down his fifth cup of wine. downing it in a quick sip, aegon smirked at his mother, wiping at his mouth as helaena continued to quietly chat with jaehaera and jaehaerys beside him. “gods if i knew, mother. you know my high valyrian has always been shit.”

alicent swatted at aegon’s hand again, scolding the boy for his language as gwayne stood alongside the wall, eyeing you warily as you reached for the platter of strawberries. the juices dripped down your fingers, staining the skin a dulcet red. you looked up at gwayne through your lashes, pinching the stem between your fingers as you slowly opened your mouth and let your tongue lick the dripping juices off the fruit.

the adam’s apple in gwayne’s throat bobbed, his mouth dry as you bit into the strawberry, more juices trailing down your chin and fingers in deep red streams. your gaze was set on his, eyes lidded as you placed the stem on your plate, tongue moving out to lick at your digits.

gwayne could feel a strain in his breeches, one he was embarrassed to admit was there. he tried to situate himself as coyly as possible, but with a row of knights beside him, and the royals at the table in front of him, he didn’t know how conspicuous he could be. you caught on immediately, grabbing a napkin and grinning as you dabbed at the juice on your chin. you didn’t notice the way aemond was looking at you with thinly veiled disgust, his lips twisted in a deep sneer as he watched your display.

“gods, sister,” he spoke in your mother tongue, choking back a gag as you only shrugged your shoulders, winking at gwayne’s flushed cheeks. “you’re absolutely vile.”

and vile you were. you embraced your ludicrous nature, continuing to tease your uncle as he tried his best to keep his valour and dignity. today was no different. you had woken to your handmaiden, alysanne, reminding you of the feast your family were to hold at dusk, the meal in celebration for gwayne’s return to the red keep. you only grinned, stretching your arms above your head as plots began to unfurl in your brain.

night came in billowing wisps, and before you knew it, alysanne and your two other handmaidens, ingrid and selina, started getting you ready for the feast. jewels were laid out on your vanity, while a steaming bath filled with milk and rose petals got moved into your chambers. oils ranging from lavender to sandalwood lined the tub, your body slick and pliant as you sank down into the water.

a deep sigh left your throat at the feeling of the hot water engulfing your body, muscles becoming less tense and tight as you rested against the lip of the tub. you sat idle as alysanne scrubbed your silver hair clean, selina slathering jasmine oil on your arms while ingrid laid out your dress for the dinner. it was a beautiful gown made of midnight blue silk, a colour similar to that of moonfyre’s scales.

the minutes spent being pampered were soothing to your soul, leaving your brain devoid of any harrowing thoughts. for the first time in a fortnight, you tried not to let your mind wander to ser mark, his memory a scar on your heart. his lingering presence only left you pain, and you were trying not to be too dreadful at gwayne’s feast.

“we will be back soon, princess.” alysanne’s voice snapped you out of your stupor, lilac eyes slowly opening to stare at your handmaiden’s reverent frames moving closer to your chamber doors. “it seems our presence is needed elsewhere in the castle.”

you only smiled at the girls, waving your hand of dismissively as you began to sink lower in the milky water. “don’t be too long, girls. you know i’m horrid at doing my own hair.” the three women giggled, promising you they would be back before your fingers started to prune before shutting your chamber door with a thump.

suddenly, it was all to quiet, the billows of wind outside your window the only noise making its way to your ears. you reveled in the peace, sinking lower and lower until your head was fully submerged under the water. you just laid there for a couple of moments, keeping your breath steady so the milk and water rushed to your ears, blanketing you in a silence that calmed your raging thoughts.

you stayed peaceful beneath the watery surface until the blurred sound of knuckles rapping against the oak doors of your chambers hit your ears, the bangs muffled but eligible in your state. you broke through the the water like a siren capturing a sailor, graceful and devious with fire in your eyes.

leaning back against the tub, you laid your arms on the side of the metal basin, tilting your head back until you were staring at the cracked ceiling. “you may come in.”

at first you thought your handmaidens were behind the heavy wood separating yourself from the rest of the castle, yet your girls never knocked so aggressively, leaving your brows to furrow and your mind to wander.

though the furrow in your brow morphed into a grin on your lips as gwayne walked into your chambers, dressed prettily in a green doublet and bottoms that fit his thighs deliciously.

his auburn hair was swept back away from his face, the crinkle in his forehead present as he surveyed your room quickly. it seemed he hadn’t spotted you off in the corner of the room, leaving you to hum silently and watch as his eyes followed the sound.

“over here, uncle.” you sang, feeling a glee like no other wrack through your body as gwayne took in your frame. water reached up to the middle of your chest, the tops of your breasts on display alongside the delicate slope of your collarbones. you could visibly see the way gwayne’s throat bobbed, his mouth opening and closing as his brain tried to catch up with the sight in front of him.

a sputter of unintelligible words left the man’s lips, his fingers fisting the fabric at the sleeves of his doublet as he tried to gather his thoughts into sentences. “princess!” he finally gasped out, cheeks an undeniable shade of pink. “wha-what is this?”

“i’m having a bath, clearly.” you mused, watching the way gwayne tried to look anywhere but the bareness of your arms. “got to look and feel my best for the feast. after all, ‘tis you who is the man of the hour.”

gwayne breathed through his nose, trying his best to hinder the growing in his breeches. this was the second time you made his cock stand on attention, and he was starting to feel like a dirty pervert for getting so hot at the sight and thought of his niece.

it didn’t help that you played into his lusts and fantasies, always teasing him with your lithe frame and delicate musings. if you were anyone else but kin, gwayne would have no other choice but to bend you over his knee and smack the brattiness out of you, showing you what bad girls get when they tease.

though for now, all gwayne tried to do was keep his composure, averting his eyes to anywhere but your slick and wet frame.

“your mother — my sister, asked me to fetch you. though it seems you are not ready yet.” gwayne emphasized the word sister to remind you that his family was yours, and that whatever game you were playing was dangerous and improper, one that was strictly forbidden.

you only hummed again, reaching towards the jasmine oil beside the bath with nimble fingers. your eyes stayed rooted on gwayne’s face as your free hand swiped the slick moisturizer out of its jar, moving to rub it against your neck and chest with slow, sensual strokes. gwayne was still looking anywhere but you, though when he could only hear your silence, he moved his gaze back to you, nearly letting out a gasp at the act you were putting on.

the oil made your skin shine, making you look like a lemon cake tempting gwayne from across the hall. he felt the need to palm himself over his trousers, relieve the pain that was torturing him in his breeches. yet in a sudden moment of clarity, propriety and duty came back into gwayne’s senses, making him snap back into reality.

you were his niece. his kin. the one person he was now bound to protect. he wasn’t going to destroy that over his own lusts, and he wasn’t going to soil you just because he felt his carnal needs flare up.

“i must go!” he exclaimed suddenly, spinning on his heels and hurriedly making his way towards your chamber doors. you could only smirk, hiding your giggles behind your palm as gwayne almost bumped into a shocked alysanne. your handmaiden looked at him quizzically, slowly bowing her head to him as he apologized hurriedly and rounded his way down the hall.

turning her head slowly to gaze upon you, alysanne raised a brow in your direction, her face a mask of knowing as she watched you grin and giggle behind your palm. “now what was that all about, princess?”

“oh, nothing.” you mused, a wide smiled etched onto your lips as you started anticipating the night ahead of you, a sick plan forming in your brain. “nothing at all.”

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MASTERLIST

pinkdoeweirdo

chains of love hit so hard consider me chained!! omg, i am so down bad it’s crazy, nat, we need chapter 3 asap😩🩷

#rol♜ne's must read list ᵎ!ᵎ #natashaᢉ𐭩 #rottenbites #chains of love #gwayne hightower #ser gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower series #gwayne hightower x targaryen!reader #gwayne hightower x reader #hotd gwayne #gwayne hightower x you

louloucake

husband!aerion who cums in his pants jsut from making out...⊹ ࣪ ˖

"aerion, you're getting your spit all over my chin," you complain half-heartedly, attempting to pull back from the onslaught of his kisses.

his grip on your waist tightens as you straddle him in the privacy of your chambers.

he doesn't stop. if anything, your protest only seems to fuel the ferocity of his assault. his mouth is a hot, wet possession against your skin, trailing from your jaw down the column of your throat. your husband is practically devouring you, marking you, trying to consume you whole.