THE SMITH
⤷ ✶ 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.