starr velaryon

𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒚𝒆𝒏-𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒄

[velary-on]

daughter of sea and salt . . .  ༄

𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄

@starr-jazz

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒' 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐖

༄ . . . blood of old Valyria

[velary-on]

one last time . . . 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏

ABOUT.

With the new regime comes reassignment of roles, having to keep the Hightowers in check leads to your sister, Rhaenyra to assign the Queen Dowger's brother, Ser Gwayne Hightower as your sworn shield.

Come a few moons after Ser Gwayne becomes your sheild, you can't help but gain some affections for the beautiful knight but now, its your nephew, Jacaerys' nameday joust and here comes something you did not expect.

WARNINGS. no smut. vague descriptions of wounds (gwayne gets a minor cut on his neck)

TAGS.

fem!reader, definitely ooc gwayne cause its my first time writing him, NO 'DANCE OF DRAGONS' AU, slowburn lowk because nothing too romantic happens in ch.1, reader knows how to weild a sword, unrealistic swordsmanship cause i know jack shit about it, a joust and those flower bracelet favour things, attempted tension between reader and gwayne, sorta plot twist at the end? it’s explained in the next chapter, also not proofread!! so there might be inconsistencies cause i wrote the ending and then came back to the sword fight scene

NOTES.

so like don’t think too hard about the logistics of it all okay😭 i bullshitted my way through a lot of this idk if it fits canon narrative well (probs doesn’t)

DISCLAIMER. rn im still on s3ep3 but ive seen the spoilers of ormund refering/implying Gwayne to be queer and until he is canonically confirmed to be gay, he is my pretty bi knight <3

<- 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Marriage was a political tool, a hoax of a union only meant to unite realms and solidify them, it’s is not for love, not for royalties that rule the kingdoms. You were aware of this, your sister never promised you a fable-like love, she had prepared you for this, to marry for familial gain, and yet it feels so strange.

Probably because you unknowingly surrendered your heart to someone you shouldn’t have.

You still remember the day you met him for the very first time. There was well expected chaos after your sister Rhaenyra ascended your father’s throne as Queen to the realm, so about a week after her coronation, you were called into the council chambers, but it was only your sister and your brother-in-law Daemon.

“Alicent’s family, the Hightowers.” Rhaenyra started, “They need to be kept in check. We have figured out what to do with Otto and Ormund but…Ser Gwayne seems to be causing quite the…problem.” She finished, fingers fidgeting with the orb placed in front of her to signify her attendance to the meetings.

“So, much to my dismay.” Daemon continues, glancing to his wife. “We’d like for you to take him as your sworn shield.” You blinked at them, taking a moment to let the words sink in. You’d heard of the man, he was a Hightower but also a skilled knight, probably the only reason Daemon is agreeing to this. He’s also known to be any honourable man, fiercely loyal and ultimately handsome.

“Very well then. If Your Grace commands it, then it shall be done.” You say the words, poised as ever even with the prospect of an utter stranger being your shield. You watch as your sister calls out for him, the doors swinging open and the ginger man, clad in armour walks in with his head low. He doesn’t look at you, not yet, eyes strained on the queen as he bows his head to her out of respect.

“Ser Gwayne. From this day forth, you are to be my sister’s sworn shield. Swear to her.” He nods to the queen, chin dipping low, causing his auburn waves to swing with the wind. When he finally turns to you, his deep blue eyes bore into yours for the first time.

He kept his eyes connected with yours as he knelt down before you, the metal of his armour clanking is the only sound that fills the room as he hold up his hand, for you to slip yours into. Your hand, previously clutched at your side, now rises to meet his, “My Lady.” Gwayne finally begins, “I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours, if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.”

His voice is mellow, like a soothing balm as his gaze is intense in contrast, exhibiting an emotion you can’t quite place. His thumb runs over your knuckles as he speaks, sending a shiver down your spine, and when he’s done reciting the words, he brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a firm kiss onto his Princess’ hand.

“You are quite skilled, My Lady.”

You startle at the voice, not expecting anyone to be amiss at this hour of the night, swinging around with sword still in hand, read to attack the owner of said voice, only to be met with the most beautiful blue eyes and his hands up defensively. “You had me in quite a panic for a moment, to see you missing from your chambers when I was right outside.” Gwayne says, the tip of your sword hovering just a few inches from his neck.

“I prefer that cover of night to train. Lesser eyes.” You respond, holding your stance, he might be your shield but he’s still a Hightower and you two are quite alone. As a princess of the realm, it’s seen as unladylike to know how to wield a weapon, something you never understood. They give you a dragon and expect you to ride into battles but not a sword in your hand? Laughable.

“I suppose you will not inform me of the way you escaped?” He poses it as a question as he takes a step closer, closer till the blade of your sword actually nicks the side of his neck, the sight of blood making you flinch just a bit. A single droplet trickles down from the wound, to the collar of his tunic, dying the cloth a deep red.

It’s odd to see him in regular clothes when you’re so used to seeing him clad in armour. He must’ve realised you were gone after shift change, but considering that the entire castle wasn’t alive and running around looking for you, he must be the only one who knows.

Your train of thought is cut off when you feel his skin on yours, his hand gently caressing yours, the same hand that’s holding up the sword that could kill him if you wished. “I am not going to harm you, My Lady.” He whispers the words into the night’s air like a promise, which is true, he did swear an oath to you, he did promise so.

It’s been about a month since that day in the council chambers. The day he knelt before you and swore to you. Since then, he’d been your shadow, following you around anywhere you went with his rather calming appearance and charming smiles. At the beginning, small talk was kept to a minimum, you couldn’t trust him in the least, son of a schemer must’ve inherited some of his wits, right? But every kind word, every gentle smile chipped away at your wall slowly, and here you were, letting him in on a secret of yours.

You withdraw your blade, causing your hand to rip away from his in the process. You jerk your chin to a wall at the far end of the training ground, a few swords mounted upon it. “Spar with me, Ser.” You don’t leave space for it to be a question, your tone indicating clearly that it’s an order. “It would be my honour.” You watch as he dips his head in obedience, taking a step back before he walks in the direction you instructed.

You watch him, study him as his back turns to you, the lone teach lighting up the arena isn’t ideal but it suffices. You watch as the muscles of his back ripple with every step, the obvious years of training in his gait. Even in the low light, his auburn hair almost shines, making itself known.

“Who taught you?” He calls out as as he unsheathes one of the swords you directed him towards, you stay silent nonetheless, waiting from to walk back but now with a small smile stretching the tips of his lips like there’s something amusing about this encounter.

You wait till he stands a few paces from you, holding up your own sword ready to attack. “My Lady—” Ser Gwayne begins but you interrupt him by lunging forward, aimed at his chest albeit without great force that could cause grave injury, but his instincts kick in anyway, his sword coming up to slash at yours, pushing you back slightly.

Your skills with a weapon that wasn’t your dragon would never be a match for his of course, if it were, then you wouldn’t need him as a shield, would you?

He simply defends as you aim for his shoulder next, his sword catching yours, but you change your grip on the hilt, taking a step back to avoid hurting him but swinging in a motion that would’ve normally given him a nasty gash on his forearm.“My previous shield was a woman.” You begin, earning wide eyes from Gwayne.

You attack a few more times, the nightly breeze making wide of his hair and yours as you continue your dance. He has sworn to never harm you, so all he does is defend against your moves, a sense of him being proud at you courses through his body, the way you control the blade to not hurt him with moves that usually cause bloodshed. He doesn’t move with total ease, you putting up an actual challenge that he had to answer with his own sword.

“She understood how important it was for a Lady to know how to protect herself if she were to ever fall into inescapable peril.” You finish, using your words as distraction to step a fade, turning your whole body to attack what would’ve been a final blow.

“She taught you very well.” Gwayne agrees as your blade comes juts out, sharp edge yet again resting against the crook of his neck, just about the same place that you’d just nicked a few minutes ago, a pleased smile decorating his face.

The realms first big celebration after your sister’s coronation was the Crown Prince Jacaerys’, your nephew’s name day. The whole week leading to his seventeenth name day was brimming with festivities. Hunts, feats, and of course, a joust.

It was hard to take a step outside your room during this time without bumping into multiple servants or labours running around and carrying things. These times were exhausting even if you were a princess who did nothing to contribute. It was just the atmosphere of the place, like the whole palace was holding its breath, waiting for the shoe to drop, for the pinnacle before going back to normal.

You’d hidden away in the courtyard, alone with your thoughts because your usual conversation partner was away practicing and training for the said joust. When your sworn shield approached you for permission to enter the lists, you begrudgingly agreed. After all, it was not but a place for these men in armour to show off their glamor and power.

Six months with Gwayne has certainly softened you to him, even a princess can’t resist his charming smiles for too long. It’s odd now, when you think back to when you first met him, to the wall you had put up to him that you sometimes wonder if it was a good idea to get so comfortable around him.

It was inevitable, of course, when you had such few companions around you that you get attached easily. Your sister was busy with running the realms, your brother in law/uncle…well Daemon was Daemon, your nieces and nephews were too young, the Ladies from families loyal to yours had to be kept at an arms length anyway.

Sighing, you pluck off another wild flower that grow near the roots of the tree and your back rests against its trunk. On your lap, lounging on the silk of your skirts was your flower bracelet, the one you’d give as a favour to a knight during the joust. What started as an escape to boredom grew to a beautiful decorated bracelet, with ribbons of your house and your mother’s, your favourite flowers intertwining like a braid. You stick the flower you just picked into a spot that felt too empty, finally satisfied with the creation.

In tranquility, it’s hard to stop your thoughts from wandering. Will Ser Gwayne ask for your favour? He must out of obligation but you can’t help but wonder if there’s anything genuine about it? If he truly wants your support. You have the right to refuse, of course, but there’s no knight that you’d rather give it to. It’s tradition, of course, that a sworn shield asks and wears the favour of who they are sworn to, it’s seen as scandalous not to.

There were a few contenders worth speaking about, Ser Cristin Cole, Ser Gwayne and a few up and comers. You never paid much heed to them but overheard a few floating conversations amongst the maids and guards. Only time will tell, you suppose.

You hadn’t seen Ser Gwayne all day.

After having him by your side for most hours of the day in the recent months, his absence was odd to say the least, but given that the joust begins in just a few minutes, he’d been off getting ready.

Your favour, the flower bracelet you would slide onto a knights jousting stick, now sat beside you on the small table up on the royal dias, looking down at the jousting ground with the best view the arena has to offer. Your lone journey through your thoughts is broken when you hear your name being called, turning around, you acknowledge the person calling you.

“Queen Dowager, I hope you are well.” You saw as you watch Alicent Hightower headed in your direction, obviously to take a seat beside you. “And I, you.” She responded as she gives you a smile, a perfectly polite and diplomatic one, which you return.

You were only a year younger than your sister, but you never took to deep friendship with Alicent in childhood like your sister did. You’d always known her to be more of a kind older sister-like figure, that is until your father wed her. You understand the political motivations behind the decision but it still irked you to this day.

“I do hope my dear brother has not caused you any trouble.” You asks as Ser Gwayne trots into the jousting field, the whispers erupting around you, between nobles and commoners alike. Gwayne was well-known for his looks, praised by both Lords and Ladies, you never had how un-exaggerated the gossip was until you actually met him, those blue eyes and auburn waves.

“He’s is pleasant.” You respond to his sister, Alicent still draped in Hightower green. who watches Gwayne opponent, Ser Cristian Cole, Alicent’s own sworn shield prance into the field too, seeming that him and Gwayne were to be opponents. The Queen Dowager simply nods at your response, opting to picking the skin on her fingers than respond back.

It’s finally time, just before their helmets finally go on, the knights come up to ask for the favour of their intended Lady. You subconsciously straighten up your back, soothing a hair strand that had been misbehaving all day as your flower bracelet sat just an arm’s breath away from you.

Gwayne’s armour glistens in the sun, well polished and well crafted, moulded to his body with utter perfection as he rides up to the royal box, his jousting pole in hand. Even from the distance, you can see the healed scar of the wound you gave him a mere month after he was sworn to you, something you’ve felt utterly guilty about, scarring him like that but Gwayne just softly chuckles you off everytime you brought it up since then.

It’s odd though, his usual charismatic smile, persona with a smidge of boyishness and an inkling of confident arrogance was…missing. Replaced by a furrowed brow, lips in a serious grimace, you’d never seen him as such.

When he looks up at the box, he doesn’t look at you. His gaze stays strained on the woman next to you, his sister who doesn’t break his stare. He doesn’t spare you an inkling of attention as he opens his mouth to speak, voice laced with something only resembling rage.

“Queen Dowager, mine own dear sister, I would like to ask for your favour.”

P.S. is it unethical of me to start my got/hotd fanfic writing journey by writing gwayne? because my princess x knight obsession is begging to be let out and who am i to stop it.

[velary-on]

one last time . . . 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏

ABOUT.

With the new regime comes reassignment of roles, having to keep the Hightowers in check leads to your sister, Rhaenyra to assign the Queen Dowger's brother, Ser Gwayne Hightower as your sworn shield.

Come a few moons after Ser Gwayne becomes your sheild, you can't help but gain some affections for the beautiful knight but now, its your nephew, Jacaerys' nameday joust and here comes something you did not expect.

WARNINGS. no smut. vague descriptions of wounds (gwayne gets a minor cut on his neck)

TAGS.

fem!reader, definitely ooc gwayne cause its my first time writing him, NO 'DANCE OF DRAGONS' AU, slowburn lowk because nothing too romantic happens in ch.1, reader knows how to weild a sword, unrealistic swordsmanship cause i know jack shit about it, a joust and those flower bracelet favour things, attempted tension between reader and gwayne, sorta plot twist at the end? it’s explained in the next chapter, also not proofread!! so there might be inconsistencies cause i wrote the ending and then came back to the sword fight scene

NOTES.

so like don’t think too hard about the logistics of it all okay😭 i bullshitted my way through a lot of this idk if it fits canon narrative well (probs doesn’t)

DISCLAIMER. rn im still on s3ep3 but ive seen the spoilers of ormund refering/implying Gwayne to be queer and until he is canonically confirmed to be gay, he is my pretty bi knight <3

<- 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Marriage was a political tool, a hoax of a union only meant to unite realms and solidify them, it’s is not for love, not for royalties that rule the kingdoms. You were aware of this, your sister never promised you a fable-like love, she had prepared you for this, to marry for familial gain, and yet it feels so strange.

Probably because you unknowingly surrendered your heart to someone you shouldn’t have.

You still remember the day you met him for the very first time. There was well expected chaos after your sister Rhaenyra ascended your father’s throne as Queen to the realm, so about a week after her coronation, you were called into the council chambers, but it was only your sister and your brother-in-law Daemon.

“Alicent’s family, the Hightowers.” Rhaenyra started, “They need to be kept in check. We have figured out what to do with Otto and Ormund but…Ser Gwayne seems to be causing quite the…problem.” She finished, fingers fidgeting with the orb placed in front of her to signify her attendance to the meetings.

“So, much to my dismay.” Daemon continues, glancing to his wife. “We’d like for you to take him as your sworn shield.” You blinked at them, taking a moment to let the words sink in. You’d heard of the man, he was a Hightower but also a skilled knight, probably the only reason Daemon is agreeing to this. He’s also known to be any honourable man, fiercely loyal and ultimately handsome.

“Very well then. If Your Grace commands it, then it shall be done.” You say the words, poised as ever even with the prospect of an utter stranger being your shield. You watch as your sister calls out for him, the doors swinging open and the ginger man, clad in armour walks in with his head low. He doesn’t look at you, not yet, eyes strained on the queen as he bows his head to her out of respect.

“Ser Gwayne. From this day forth, you are to be my sister’s sworn shield. Swear to her.” He nods to the queen, chin dipping low, causing his auburn waves to swing with the wind. When he finally turns to you, his deep blue eyes bore into yours for the first time.

He kept his eyes connected with yours as he knelt down before you, the metal of his armour clanking is the only sound that fills the room as he hold up his hand, for you to slip yours into. Your hand, previously clutched at your side, now rises to meet his, “My Lady.” Gwayne finally begins, “I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours, if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.”

His voice is mellow, like a soothing balm as his gaze is intense in contrast, exhibiting an emotion you can’t quite place. His thumb runs over your knuckles as he speaks, sending a shiver down your spine, and when he’s done reciting the words, he brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a firm kiss onto his Princess’ hand.

“You are quite skilled, My Lady.”

You startle at the voice, not expecting anyone to be amiss at this hour of the night, swinging around with sword still in hand, read to attack the owner of said voice, only to be met with the most beautiful blue eyes and his hands up defensively. “You had me in quite a panic for a moment, to see you missing from your chambers when I was right outside.” Gwayne says, the tip of your sword hovering just a few inches from his neck.

“I prefer that cover of night to train. Lesser eyes.” You respond, holding your stance, he might be your shield but he’s still a Hightower and you two are quite alone. As a princess of the realm, it’s seen as unladylike to know how to wield a weapon, something you never understood. They give you a dragon and expect you to ride into battles but not a sword in your hand? Laughable.

“I suppose you will not inform me of the way you escaped?” He poses it as a question as he takes a step closer, closer till the blade of your sword actually nicks the side of his neck, the sight of blood making you flinch just a bit. A single droplet trickles down from the wound, to the collar of his tunic, dying the cloth a deep red.

It’s odd to see him in regular clothes when you’re so used to seeing him clad in armour. He must’ve realised you were gone after shift change, but considering that the entire castle wasn’t alive and running around looking for you, he must be the only one who knows.

Your train of thought is cut off when you feel his skin on yours, his hand gently caressing yours, the same hand that’s holding up the sword that could kill him if you wished. “I am not going to harm you, My Lady.” He whispers the words into the night’s air like a promise, which is true, he did swear an oath to you, he did promise so.

It’s been about a month since that day in the council chambers. The day he knelt before you and swore to you. Since then, he’d been your shadow, following you around anywhere you went with his rather calming appearance and charming smiles. At the beginning, small talk was kept to a minimum, you couldn’t trust him in the least, son of a schemer must’ve inherited some of his wits, right? But every kind word, every gentle smile chipped away at your wall slowly, and here you were, letting him in on a secret of yours.

You withdraw your blade, causing your hand to rip away from his in the process. You jerk your chin to a wall at the far end of the training ground, a few swords mounted upon it. “Spar with me, Ser.” You don’t leave space for it to be a question, your tone indicating clearly that it’s an order. “It would be my honour.” You watch as he dips his head in obedience, taking a step back before he walks in the direction you instructed.

You watch him, study him as his back turns to you, the lone teach lighting up the arena isn’t ideal but it suffices. You watch as the muscles of his back ripple with every step, the obvious years of training in his gait. Even in the low light, his auburn hair almost shines, making itself known.

“Who taught you?” He calls out as as he unsheathes one of the swords you directed him towards, you stay silent nonetheless, waiting from to walk back but now with a small smile stretching the tips of his lips like there’s something amusing about this encounter.

You wait till he stands a few paces from you, holding up your own sword ready to attack. “My Lady—” Ser Gwayne begins but you interrupt him by lunging forward, aimed at his chest albeit without great force that could cause grave injury, but his instincts kick in anyway, his sword coming up to slash at yours, pushing you back slightly.

Your skills with a weapon that wasn’t your dragon would never be a match for his of course, if it were, then you wouldn’t need him as a shield, would you?

He simply defends as you aim for his shoulder next, his sword catching yours, but you change your grip on the hilt, taking a step back to avoid hurting him but swinging in a motion that would’ve normally given him a nasty gash on his forearm.“My previous shield was a woman.” You begin, earning wide eyes from Gwayne.

You attack a few more times, the nightly breeze making wide of his hair and yours as you continue your dance. He has sworn to never harm you, so all he does is defend against your moves, a sense of him being proud at you courses through his body, the way you control the blade to not hurt him with moves that usually cause bloodshed. He doesn’t move with total ease, you putting up an actual challenge that he had to answer with his own sword.

“She understood how important it was for a Lady to know how to protect herself if she were to ever fall into inescapable peril.” You finish, using your words as distraction to step a fade, turning your whole body to attack what would’ve been a final blow.

“She taught you very well.” Gwayne agrees as your blade comes juts out, sharp edge yet again resting against the crook of his neck, just about the same place that you’d just nicked a few minutes ago, a pleased smile decorating his face.

The realms first big celebration after your sister’s coronation was the Crown Prince Jacaerys’, your nephew’s name day. The whole week leading to his seventeenth name day was brimming with festivities. Hunts, feats, and of course, a joust.

It was hard to take a step outside your room during this time without bumping into multiple servants or labours running around and carrying things. These times were exhausting even if you were a princess who did nothing to contribute. It was just the atmosphere of the place, like the whole palace was holding its breath, waiting for the shoe to drop, for the pinnacle before going back to normal.

You’d hidden away in the courtyard, alone with your thoughts because your usual conversation partner was away practicing and training for the said joust. When your sworn shield approached you for permission to enter the lists, you begrudgingly agreed. After all, it was not but a place for these men in armour to show off their glamor and power.

Six months with Gwayne has certainly softened you to him, even a princess can’t resist his charming smiles for too long. It’s odd now, when you think back to when you first met him, to the wall you had put up to him that you sometimes wonder if it was a good idea to get so comfortable around him.

It was inevitable, of course, when you had such few companions around you that you get attached easily. Your sister was busy with running the realms, your brother in law/uncle…well Daemon was Daemon, your nieces and nephews were too young, the Ladies from families loyal to yours had to be kept at an arms length anyway.

Sighing, you pluck off another wild flower that grow near the roots of the tree and your back rests against its trunk. On your lap, lounging on the silk of your skirts was your flower bracelet, the one you’d give as a favour to a knight during the joust. What started as an escape to boredom grew to a beautiful decorated bracelet, with ribbons of your house and your mother’s, your favourite flowers intertwining like a braid. You stick the flower you just picked into a spot that felt too empty, finally satisfied with the creation.

In tranquility, it’s hard to stop your thoughts from wandering. Will Ser Gwayne ask for your favour? He must out of obligation but you can’t help but wonder if there’s anything genuine about it? If he truly wants your support. You have the right to refuse, of course, but there’s no knight that you’d rather give it to. It’s tradition, of course, that a sworn shield asks and wears the favour of who they are sworn to, it’s seen as scandalous not to.

There were a few contenders worth speaking about, Ser Cristin Cole, Ser Gwayne and a few up and comers. You never paid much heed to them but overheard a few floating conversations amongst the maids and guards. Only time will tell, you suppose.

You hadn’t seen Ser Gwayne all day.

After having him by your side for most hours of the day in the recent months, his absence was odd to say the least, but given that the joust begins in just a few minutes, he’d been off getting ready.

Your favour, the flower bracelet you would slide onto a knights jousting stick, now sat beside you on the small table up on the royal dias, looking down at the jousting ground with the best view the arena has to offer. Your lone journey through your thoughts is broken when you hear your name being called, turning around, you acknowledge the person calling you.

“Queen Dowager, I hope you are well.” You saw as you watch Alicent Hightower headed in your direction, obviously to take a seat beside you. “And I, you.” She responded as she gives you a smile, a perfectly polite and diplomatic one, which you return.

You were only a year younger than your sister, but you never took to deep friendship with Alicent in childhood like your sister did. You’d always known her to be more of a kind older sister-like figure, that is until your father wed her. You understand the political motivations behind the decision but it still irked you to this day.

“I do hope my dear brother has not caused you any trouble.” You asks as Ser Gwayne trots into the jousting field, the whispers erupting around you, between nobles and commoners alike. Gwayne was well-known for his looks, praised by both Lords and Ladies, you never had how un-exaggerated the gossip was until you actually met him, those blue eyes and auburn waves.

“He’s is pleasant.” You respond to his sister, Alicent still draped in Hightower green. who watches Gwayne opponent, Ser Cristian Cole, Alicent’s own sworn shield prance into the field too, seeming that him and Gwayne were to be opponents. The Queen Dowager simply nods at your response, opting to picking the skin on her fingers than respond back.

It’s finally time, just before their helmets finally go on, the knights come up to ask for the favour of their intended Lady. You subconsciously straighten up your back, soothing a hair strand that had been misbehaving all day as your flower bracelet sat just an arm’s breath away from you.

Gwayne’s armour glistens in the sun, well polished and well crafted, moulded to his body with utter perfection as he rides up to the royal box, his jousting pole in hand. Even from the distance, you can see the healed scar of the wound you gave him a mere month after he was sworn to you, something you’ve felt utterly guilty about, scarring him like that but Gwayne just softly chuckles you off everytime you brought it up since then.

It’s odd though, his usual charismatic smile, persona with a smidge of boyishness and an inkling of confident arrogance was…missing. Replaced by a furrowed brow, lips in a serious grimace, you’d never seen him as such.

When he looks up at the box, he doesn’t look at you. His gaze stays strained on the woman next to you, his sister who doesn’t break his stare. He doesn’t spare you an inkling of attention as he opens his mouth to speak, voice laced with something only resembling rage.

“Queen Dowager, mine own dear sister, I would like to ask for your favour.”

P.S. is it unethical of me to start my got/hotd fanfic writing journey by writing gwayne? because my princess x knight obsession is begging to be let out and who am i to stop it.

[velary-on]

one last time . . . 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏

ABOUT.

With the new regime comes reassignment of roles, having to keep the Hightowers in check leads to your sister, Rhaenyra to assign the Queen Dowger's brother, Ser Gwayne Hightower as your sworn shield.

Come a few moons after Ser Gwayne becomes your sheild, you can't help but gain some affections for the beautiful knight but now, its your nephew, Jacaerys' nameday joust and here comes something you did not expect.

WARNINGS. no smut. vague descriptions of wounds (gwayne gets a minor cut on his neck)

TAGS.

fem!reader, definitely ooc gwayne cause its my first time writing him, NO 'DANCE OF DRAGONS' AU, slowburn lowk because nothing too romantic happens in ch.1, reader knows how to weild a sword, unrealistic swordsmanship cause i know jack shit about it, a joust and those flower bracelet favour things, attempted tension between reader and gwayne, sorta plot twist at the end? it’s explained in the next chapter, also not proofread!! so there might be inconsistencies cause i wrote the ending and then came back to the sword fight scene

NOTES.

so like don’t think too hard about the logistics of it all okay😭 i bullshitted my way through a lot of this idk if it fits canon narrative well (probs doesn’t)

DISCLAIMER. rn im still on s3ep3 but ive seen the spoilers of ormund refering/implying Gwayne to be queer and until he is canonically confirmed to be gay, he is my pretty bi knight <3

<- 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Marriage was a political tool, a hoax of a union only meant to unite realms and solidify them, it’s is not for love, not for royalties that rule the kingdoms. You were aware of this, your sister never promised you a fable-like love, she had prepared you for this, to marry for familial gain, and yet it feels so strange.

Probably because you unknowingly surrendered your heart to someone you shouldn’t have.

You still remember the day you met him for the very first time. There was well expected chaos after your sister Rhaenyra ascended your father’s throne as Queen to the realm, so about a week after her coronation, you were called into the council chambers, but it was only your sister and your brother-in-law Daemon.

“Alicent’s family, the Hightowers.” Rhaenyra started, “They need to be kept in check. We have figured out what to do with Otto and Ormund but…Ser Gwayne seems to be causing quite the…problem.” She finished, fingers fidgeting with the orb placed in front of her to signify her attendance to the meetings.

“So, much to my dismay.” Daemon continues, glancing to his wife. “We’d like for you to take him as your sworn shield.” You blinked at them, taking a moment to let the words sink in. You’d heard of the man, he was a Hightower but also a skilled knight, probably the only reason Daemon is agreeing to this. He’s also known to be any honourable man, fiercely loyal and ultimately handsome.

“Very well then. If Your Grace commands it, then it shall be done.” You say the words, poised as ever even with the prospect of an utter stranger being your shield. You watch as your sister calls out for him, the doors swinging open and the ginger man, clad in armour walks in with his head low. He doesn’t look at you, not yet, eyes strained on the queen as he bows his head to her out of respect.

“Ser Gwayne. From this day forth, you are to be my sister’s sworn shield. Swear to her.” He nods to the queen, chin dipping low, causing his auburn waves to swing with the wind. When he finally turns to you, his deep blue eyes bore into yours for the first time.

He kept his eyes connected with yours as he knelt down before you, the metal of his armour clanking is the only sound that fills the room as he hold up his hand, for you to slip yours into. Your hand, previously clutched at your side, now rises to meet his, “My Lady.” Gwayne finally begins, “I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours, if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.”

His voice is mellow, like a soothing balm as his gaze is intense in contrast, exhibiting an emotion you can’t quite place. His thumb runs over your knuckles as he speaks, sending a shiver down your spine, and when he’s done reciting the words, he brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a firm kiss onto his Princess’ hand.

“You are quite skilled, My Lady.”

You startle at the voice, not expecting anyone to be amiss at this hour of the night, swinging around with sword still in hand, read to attack the owner of said voice, only to be met with the most beautiful blue eyes and his hands up defensively. “You had me in quite a panic for a moment, to see you missing from your chambers when I was right outside.” Gwayne says, the tip of your sword hovering just a few inches from his neck.

“I prefer that cover of night to train. Lesser eyes.” You respond, holding your stance, he might be your shield but he’s still a Hightower and you two are quite alone. As a princess of the realm, it’s seen as unladylike to know how to wield a weapon, something you never understood. They give you a dragon and expect you to ride into battles but not a sword in your hand? Laughable.

“I suppose you will not inform me of the way you escaped?” He poses it as a question as he takes a step closer, closer till the blade of your sword actually nicks the side of his neck, the sight of blood making you flinch just a bit. A single droplet trickles down from the wound, to the collar of his tunic, dying the cloth a deep red.

It’s odd to see him in regular clothes when you’re so used to seeing him clad in armour. He must’ve realised you were gone after shift change, but considering that the entire castle wasn’t alive and running around looking for you, he must be the only one who knows.

Your train of thought is cut off when you feel his skin on yours, his hand gently caressing yours, the same hand that’s holding up the sword that could kill him if you wished. “I am not going to harm you, My Lady.” He whispers the words into the night’s air like a promise, which is true, he did swear an oath to you, he did promise so.

It’s been about a month since that day in the council chambers. The day he knelt before you and swore to you. Since then, he’d been your shadow, following you around anywhere you went with his rather calming appearance and charming smiles. At the beginning, small talk was kept to a minimum, you couldn’t trust him in the least, son of a schemer must’ve inherited some of his wits, right? But every kind word, every gentle smile chipped away at your wall slowly, and here you were, letting him in on a secret of yours.

You withdraw your blade, causing your hand to rip away from his in the process. You jerk your chin to a wall at the far end of the training ground, a few swords mounted upon it. “Spar with me, Ser.” You don’t leave space for it to be a question, your tone indicating clearly that it’s an order. “It would be my honour.” You watch as he dips his head in obedience, taking a step back before he walks in the direction you instructed.

You watch him, study him as his back turns to you, the lone teach lighting up the arena isn’t ideal but it suffices. You watch as the muscles of his back ripple with every step, the obvious years of training in his gait. Even in the low light, his auburn hair almost shines, making itself known.

“Who taught you?” He calls out as as he unsheathes one of the swords you directed him towards, you stay silent nonetheless, waiting from to walk back but now with a small smile stretching the tips of his lips like there’s something amusing about this encounter.

You wait till he stands a few paces from you, holding up your own sword ready to attack. “My Lady—” Ser Gwayne begins but you interrupt him by lunging forward, aimed at his chest albeit without great force that could cause grave injury, but his instincts kick in anyway, his sword coming up to slash at yours, pushing you back slightly.

Your skills with a weapon that wasn’t your dragon would never be a match for his of course, if it were, then you wouldn’t need him as a shield, would you?

He simply defends as you aim for his shoulder next, his sword catching yours, but you change your grip on the hilt, taking a step back to avoid hurting him but swinging in a motion that would’ve normally given him a nasty gash on his forearm.“My previous shield was a woman.” You begin, earning wide eyes from Gwayne.

You attack a few more times, the nightly breeze making wide of his hair and yours as you continue your dance. He has sworn to never harm you, so all he does is defend against your moves, a sense of him being proud at you courses through his body, the way you control the blade to not hurt him with moves that usually cause bloodshed. He doesn’t move with total ease, you putting up an actual challenge that he had to answer with his own sword.

“She understood how important it was for a Lady to know how to protect herself if she were to ever fall into inescapable peril.” You finish, using your words as distraction to step a fade, turning your whole body to attack what would’ve been a final blow.

“She taught you very well.” Gwayne agrees as your blade comes juts out, sharp edge yet again resting against the crook of his neck, just about the same place that you’d just nicked a few minutes ago, a pleased smile decorating his face.

The realms first big celebration after your sister’s coronation was the Crown Prince Jacaerys’, your nephew’s name day. The whole week leading to his seventeenth name day was brimming with festivities. Hunts, feats, and of course, a joust.

It was hard to take a step outside your room during this time without bumping into multiple servants or labours running around and carrying things. These times were exhausting even if you were a princess who did nothing to contribute. It was just the atmosphere of the place, like the whole palace was holding its breath, waiting for the shoe to drop, for the pinnacle before going back to normal.

You’d hidden away in the courtyard, alone with your thoughts because your usual conversation partner was away practicing and training for the said joust. When your sworn shield approached you for permission to enter the lists, you begrudgingly agreed. After all, it was not but a place for these men in armour to show off their glamor and power.

Six months with Gwayne has certainly softened you to him, even a princess can’t resist his charming smiles for too long. It’s odd now, when you think back to when you first met him, to the wall you had put up to him that you sometimes wonder if it was a good idea to get so comfortable around him.

It was inevitable, of course, when you had such few companions around you that you get attached easily. Your sister was busy with running the realms, your brother in law/uncle…well Daemon was Daemon, your nieces and nephews were too young, the Ladies from families loyal to yours had to be kept at an arms length anyway.

Sighing, you pluck off another wild flower that grow near the roots of the tree and your back rests against its trunk. On your lap, lounging on the silk of your skirts was your flower bracelet, the one you’d give as a favour to a knight during the joust. What started as an escape to boredom grew to a beautiful decorated bracelet, with ribbons of your house and your mother’s, your favourite flowers intertwining like a braid. You stick the flower you just picked into a spot that felt too empty, finally satisfied with the creation.

In tranquility, it’s hard to stop your thoughts from wandering. Will Ser Gwayne ask for your favour? He must out of obligation but you can’t help but wonder if there’s anything genuine about it? If he truly wants your support. You have the right to refuse, of course, but there’s no knight that you’d rather give it to. It’s tradition, of course, that a sworn shield asks and wears the favour of who they are sworn to, it’s seen as scandalous not to.

There were a few contenders worth speaking about, Ser Cristin Cole, Ser Gwayne and a few up and comers. You never paid much heed to them but overheard a few floating conversations amongst the maids and guards. Only time will tell, you suppose.

You hadn’t seen Ser Gwayne all day.

After having him by your side for most hours of the day in the recent months, his absence was odd to say the least, but given that the joust begins in just a few minutes, he’d been off getting ready.

Your favour, the flower bracelet you would slide onto a knights jousting stick, now sat beside you on the small table up on the royal dias, looking down at the jousting ground with the best view the arena has to offer. Your lone journey through your thoughts is broken when you hear your name being called, turning around, you acknowledge the person calling you.

“Queen Dowager, I hope you are well.” You saw as you watch Alicent Hightower headed in your direction, obviously to take a seat beside you. “And I, you.” She responded as she gives you a smile, a perfectly polite and diplomatic one, which you return.

You were only a year younger than your sister, but you never took to deep friendship with Alicent in childhood like your sister did. You’d always known her to be more of a kind older sister-like figure, that is until your father wed her. You understand the political motivations behind the decision but it still irked you to this day.

“I do hope my dear brother has not caused you any trouble.” You asks as Ser Gwayne trots into the jousting field, the whispers erupting around you, between nobles and commoners alike. Gwayne was well-known for his looks, praised by both Lords and Ladies, you never had how un-exaggerated the gossip was until you actually met him, those blue eyes and auburn waves.

“He’s is pleasant.” You respond to his sister, Alicent still draped in Hightower green. who watches Gwayne opponent, Ser Cristian Cole, Alicent’s own sworn shield prance into the field too, seeming that him and Gwayne were to be opponents. The Queen Dowager simply nods at your response, opting to picking the skin on her fingers than respond back.

It’s finally time, just before their helmets finally go on, the knights come up to ask for the favour of their intended Lady. You subconsciously straighten up your back, soothing a hair strand that had been misbehaving all day as your flower bracelet sat just an arm’s breath away from you.

Gwayne’s armour glistens in the sun, well polished and well crafted, moulded to his body with utter perfection as he rides up to the royal box, his jousting pole in hand. Even from the distance, you can see the healed scar of the wound you gave him a mere month after he was sworn to you, something you’ve felt utterly guilty about, scarring him like that but Gwayne just softly chuckles you off everytime you brought it up since then.

It’s odd though, his usual charismatic smile, persona with a smidge of boyishness and an inkling of confident arrogance was…missing. Replaced by a furrowed brow, lips in a serious grimace, you’d never seen him as such.

When he looks up at the box, he doesn’t look at you. His gaze stays strained on the woman next to you, his sister who doesn’t break his stare. He doesn’t spare you an inkling of attention as he opens his mouth to speak, voice laced with something only resembling rage.

“Queen Dowager, mine own dear sister, I would like to ask for your favour.”

P.S. is it unethical of me to start my got/hotd fanfic writing journey by writing gwayne? because my princess x knight obsession is begging to be let out and who am i to stop it.

[velary-on]

one last time . . . 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏

ABOUT.

With the new regime comes reassignment of roles, having to keep the Hightowers in check leads to your sister, Rhaenyra to assign the Queen Dowger's brother, Ser Gwayne Hightower as your sworn shield.

Come a few moons after Ser Gwayne becomes your sheild, you can't help but gain some affections for the beautiful knight but now, its your nephew, Jacaerys' nameday joust and here comes something you did not expect.

WARNINGS. no smut. vague descriptions of wounds (gwayne gets a minor cut on his neck)

TAGS.

fem!reader, definitely ooc gwayne cause its my first time writing him, NO 'DANCE OF DRAGONS' AU, slowburn lowk because nothing too romantic happens in ch.1, reader knows how to weild a sword, unrealistic swordsmanship cause i know jack shit about it, a joust and those flower bracelet favour things, attempted tension between reader and gwayne, sorta plot twist at the end? it’s explained in the next chapter, also not proofread!! so there might be inconsistencies cause i wrote the ending and then came back to the sword fight scene

NOTES.

so like don’t think too hard about the logistics of it all okay😭 i bullshitted my way through a lot of this idk if it fits canon narrative well (probs doesn’t)

DISCLAIMER. rn im still on s3ep3 but ive seen the spoilers of ormund refering/implying Gwayne to be queer and until he is canonically confirmed to be gay, he is my pretty bi knight <3

<- 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Marriage was a political tool, a hoax of a union only meant to unite realms and solidify them, it’s is not for love, not for royalties that rule the kingdoms. You were aware of this, your sister never promised you a fable-like love, she had prepared you for this, to marry for familial gain, and yet it feels so strange.

Probably because you unknowingly surrendered your heart to someone you shouldn’t have.

You still remember the day you met him for the very first time. There was well expected chaos after your sister Rhaenyra ascended your father’s throne as Queen to the realm, so about a week after her coronation, you were called into the council chambers, but it was only your sister and your brother-in-law Daemon.

“Alicent’s family, the Hightowers.” Rhaenyra started, “They need to be kept in check. We have figured out what to do with Otto and Ormund but…Ser Gwayne seems to be causing quite the…problem.” She finished, fingers fidgeting with the orb placed in front of her to signify her attendance to the meetings.

“So, much to my dismay.” Daemon continues, glancing to his wife. “We’d like for you to take him as your sworn shield.” You blinked at them, taking a moment to let the words sink in. You’d heard of the man, he was a Hightower but also a skilled knight, probably the only reason Daemon is agreeing to this. He’s also known to be any honourable man, fiercely loyal and ultimately handsome.

“Very well then. If Your Grace commands it, then it shall be done.” You say the words, poised as ever even with the prospect of an utter stranger being your shield. You watch as your sister calls out for him, the doors swinging open and the ginger man, clad in armour walks in with his head low. He doesn’t look at you, not yet, eyes strained on the queen as he bows his head to her out of respect.

“Ser Gwayne. From this day forth, you are to be my sister’s sworn shield. Swear to her.” He nods to the queen, chin dipping low, causing his auburn waves to swing with the wind. When he finally turns to you, his deep blue eyes bore into yours for the first time.

He kept his eyes connected with yours as he knelt down before you, the metal of his armour clanking is the only sound that fills the room as he hold up his hand, for you to slip yours into. Your hand, previously clutched at your side, now rises to meet his, “My Lady.” Gwayne finally begins, “I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours, if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.”

His voice is mellow, like a soothing balm as his gaze is intense in contrast, exhibiting an emotion you can’t quite place. His thumb runs over your knuckles as he speaks, sending a shiver down your spine, and when he’s done reciting the words, he brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a firm kiss onto his Princess’ hand.

“You are quite skilled, My Lady.”

You startle at the voice, not expecting anyone to be amiss at this hour of the night, swinging around with sword still in hand, read to attack the owner of said voice, only to be met with the most beautiful blue eyes and his hands up defensively. “You had me in quite a panic for a moment, to see you missing from your chambers when I was right outside.” Gwayne says, the tip of your sword hovering just a few inches from his neck.

“I prefer that cover of night to train. Lesser eyes.” You respond, holding your stance, he might be your shield but he’s still a Hightower and you two are quite alone. As a princess of the realm, it’s seen as unladylike to know how to wield a weapon, something you never understood. They give you a dragon and expect you to ride into battles but not a sword in your hand? Laughable.

“I suppose you will not inform me of the way you escaped?” He poses it as a question as he takes a step closer, closer till the blade of your sword actually nicks the side of his neck, the sight of blood making you flinch just a bit. A single droplet trickles down from the wound, to the collar of his tunic, dying the cloth a deep red.

It’s odd to see him in regular clothes when you’re so used to seeing him clad in armour. He must’ve realised you were gone after shift change, but considering that the entire castle wasn’t alive and running around looking for you, he must be the only one who knows.

Your train of thought is cut off when you feel his skin on yours, his hand gently caressing yours, the same hand that’s holding up the sword that could kill him if you wished. “I am not going to harm you, My Lady.” He whispers the words into the night’s air like a promise, which is true, he did swear an oath to you, he did promise so.

It’s been about a month since that day in the council chambers. The day he knelt before you and swore to you. Since then, he’d been your shadow, following you around anywhere you went with his rather calming appearance and charming smiles. At the beginning, small talk was kept to a minimum, you couldn’t trust him in the least, son of a schemer must’ve inherited some of his wits, right? But every kind word, every gentle smile chipped away at your wall slowly, and here you were, letting him in on a secret of yours.

You withdraw your blade, causing your hand to rip away from his in the process. You jerk your chin to a wall at the far end of the training ground, a few swords mounted upon it. “Spar with me, Ser.” You don’t leave space for it to be a question, your tone indicating clearly that it’s an order. “It would be my honour.” You watch as he dips his head in obedience, taking a step back before he walks in the direction you instructed.

You watch him, study him as his back turns to you, the lone teach lighting up the arena isn’t ideal but it suffices. You watch as the muscles of his back ripple with every step, the obvious years of training in his gait. Even in the low light, his auburn hair almost shines, making itself known.

“Who taught you?” He calls out as as he unsheathes one of the swords you directed him towards, you stay silent nonetheless, waiting from to walk back but now with a small smile stretching the tips of his lips like there’s something amusing about this encounter.

You wait till he stands a few paces from you, holding up your own sword ready to attack. “My Lady—” Ser Gwayne begins but you interrupt him by lunging forward, aimed at his chest albeit without great force that could cause grave injury, but his instincts kick in anyway, his sword coming up to slash at yours, pushing you back slightly.

Your skills with a weapon that wasn’t your dragon would never be a match for his of course, if it were, then you wouldn’t need him as a shield, would you?

He simply defends as you aim for his shoulder next, his sword catching yours, but you change your grip on the hilt, taking a step back to avoid hurting him but swinging in a motion that would’ve normally given him a nasty gash on his forearm.“My previous shield was a woman.” You begin, earning wide eyes from Gwayne.

You attack a few more times, the nightly breeze making wide of his hair and yours as you continue your dance. He has sworn to never harm you, so all he does is defend against your moves, a sense of him being proud at you courses through his body, the way you control the blade to not hurt him with moves that usually cause bloodshed. He doesn’t move with total ease, you putting up an actual challenge that he had to answer with his own sword.

“She understood how important it was for a Lady to know how to protect herself if she were to ever fall into inescapable peril.” You finish, using your words as distraction to step a fade, turning your whole body to attack what would’ve been a final blow.

“She taught you very well.” Gwayne agrees as your blade comes juts out, sharp edge yet again resting against the crook of his neck, just about the same place that you’d just nicked a few minutes ago, a pleased smile decorating his face.

The realms first big celebration after your sister’s coronation was the Crown Prince Jacaerys’, your nephew’s name day. The whole week leading to his seventeenth name day was brimming with festivities. Hunts, feats, and of course, a joust.

It was hard to take a step outside your room during this time without bumping into multiple servants or labours running around and carrying things. These times were exhausting even if you were a princess who did nothing to contribute. It was just the atmosphere of the place, like the whole palace was holding its breath, waiting for the shoe to drop, for the pinnacle before going back to normal.

You’d hidden away in the courtyard, alone with your thoughts because your usual conversation partner was away practicing and training for the said joust. When your sworn shield approached you for permission to enter the lists, you begrudgingly agreed. After all, it was not but a place for these men in armour to show off their glamor and power.

Six months with Gwayne has certainly softened you to him, even a princess can’t resist his charming smiles for too long. It’s odd now, when you think back to when you first met him, to the wall you had put up to him that you sometimes wonder if it was a good idea to get so comfortable around him.

It was inevitable, of course, when you had such few companions around you that you get attached easily. Your sister was busy with running the realms, your brother in law/uncle…well Daemon was Daemon, your nieces and nephews were too young, the Ladies from families loyal to yours had to be kept at an arms length anyway.

Sighing, you pluck off another wild flower that grow near the roots of the tree and your back rests against its trunk. On your lap, lounging on the silk of your skirts was your flower bracelet, the one you’d give as a favour to a knight during the joust. What started as an escape to boredom grew to a beautiful decorated bracelet, with ribbons of your house and your mother’s, your favourite flowers intertwining like a braid. You stick the flower you just picked into a spot that felt too empty, finally satisfied with the creation.

In tranquility, it’s hard to stop your thoughts from wandering. Will Ser Gwayne ask for your favour? He must out of obligation but you can’t help but wonder if there’s anything genuine about it? If he truly wants your support. You have the right to refuse, of course, but there’s no knight that you’d rather give it to. It’s tradition, of course, that a sworn shield asks and wears the favour of who they are sworn to, it’s seen as scandalous not to.

There were a few contenders worth speaking about, Ser Cristin Cole, Ser Gwayne and a few up and comers. You never paid much heed to them but overheard a few floating conversations amongst the maids and guards. Only time will tell, you suppose.

You hadn’t seen Ser Gwayne all day.

After having him by your side for most hours of the day in the recent months, his absence was odd to say the least, but given that the joust begins in just a few minutes, he’d been off getting ready.

Your favour, the flower bracelet you would slide onto a knights jousting stick, now sat beside you on the small table up on the royal dias, looking down at the jousting ground with the best view the arena has to offer. Your lone journey through your thoughts is broken when you hear your name being called, turning around, you acknowledge the person calling you.

“Queen Dowager, I hope you are well.” You saw as you watch Alicent Hightower headed in your direction, obviously to take a seat beside you. “And I, you.” She responded as she gives you a smile, a perfectly polite and diplomatic one, which you return.

You were only a year younger than your sister, but you never took to deep friendship with Alicent in childhood like your sister did. You’d always known her to be more of a kind older sister-like figure, that is until your father wed her. You understand the political motivations behind the decision but it still irked you to this day.

“I do hope my dear brother has not caused you any trouble.” You asks as Ser Gwayne trots into the jousting field, the whispers erupting around you, between nobles and commoners alike. Gwayne was well-known for his looks, praised by both Lords and Ladies, you never had how un-exaggerated the gossip was until you actually met him, those blue eyes and auburn waves.

“He’s is pleasant.” You respond to his sister, Alicent still draped in Hightower green. who watches Gwayne opponent, Ser Cristian Cole, Alicent’s own sworn shield prance into the field too, seeming that him and Gwayne were to be opponents. The Queen Dowager simply nods at your response, opting to picking the skin on her fingers than respond back.

It’s finally time, just before their helmets finally go on, the knights come up to ask for the favour of their intended Lady. You subconsciously straighten up your back, soothing a hair strand that had been misbehaving all day as your flower bracelet sat just an arm’s breath away from you.

Gwayne’s armour glistens in the sun, well polished and well crafted, moulded to his body with utter perfection as he rides up to the royal box, his jousting pole in hand. Even from the distance, you can see the healed scar of the wound you gave him a mere month after he was sworn to you, something you’ve felt utterly guilty about, scarring him like that but Gwayne just softly chuckles you off everytime you brought it up since then.

It’s odd though, his usual charismatic smile, persona with a smidge of boyishness and an inkling of confident arrogance was…missing. Replaced by a furrowed brow, lips in a serious grimace, you’d never seen him as such.

When he looks up at the box, he doesn’t look at you. His gaze stays strained on the woman next to you, his sister who doesn’t break his stare. He doesn’t spare you an inkling of attention as he opens his mouth to speak, voice laced with something only resembling rage.

“Queen Dowager, mine own dear sister, I would like to ask for your favour.”

P.S. is it unethical of me to start my got/hotd fanfic writing journey by writing gwayne? because my princess x knight obsession is begging to be let out and who am i to stop it.

[velary-on]

one last time . . . 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏

ABOUT.

With the new regime comes reassignment of roles, having to keep the Hightowers in check leads to your sister, Rhaenyra to assign the Queen Dowger's brother, Ser Gwayne Hightower as your sworn shield.

Come a few moons after Ser Gwayne becomes your sheild, you can't help but gain some affections for the beautiful knight but now, its your nephew, Jacaerys' nameday joust and here comes something you did not expect.

WARNINGS. no smut. vague descriptions of wounds (gwayne gets a minor cut on his neck)

TAGS.

fem!reader, definitely ooc gwayne cause its my first time writing him, NO 'DANCE OF DRAGONS' AU, slowburn lowk because nothing too romantic happens in ch.1, reader knows how to weild a sword, unrealistic swordsmanship cause i know jack shit about it, a joust and those flower bracelet favour things, attempted tension between reader and gwayne, sorta plot twist at the end? it’s explained in the next chapter, also not proofread!! so there might be inconsistencies cause i wrote the ending and then came back to the sword fight scene

NOTES.

so like don’t think too hard about the logistics of it all okay😭 i bullshitted my way through a lot of this idk if it fits canon narrative well (probs doesn’t)

DISCLAIMER. rn im still on s3ep3 but ive seen the spoilers of ormund refering/implying Gwayne to be queer and until he is canonically confirmed to be gay, he is my pretty bi knight <3

<- 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Marriage was a political tool, a hoax of a union only meant to unite realms and solidify them, it’s is not for love, not for royalties that rule the kingdoms. You were aware of this, your sister never promised you a fable-like love, she had prepared you for this, to marry for familial gain, and yet it feels so strange.

Probably because you unknowingly surrendered your heart to someone you shouldn’t have.

You still remember the day you met him for the very first time. There was well expected chaos after your sister Rhaenyra ascended your father’s throne as Queen to the realm, so about a week after her coronation, you were called into the council chambers, but it was only your sister and your brother-in-law Daemon.

“Alicent’s family, the Hightowers.” Rhaenyra started, “They need to be kept in check. We have figured out what to do with Otto and Ormund but…Ser Gwayne seems to be causing quite the…problem.” She finished, fingers fidgeting with the orb placed in front of her to signify her attendance to the meetings.

“So, much to my dismay.” Daemon continues, glancing to his wife. “We’d like for you to take him as your sworn shield.” You blinked at them, taking a moment to let the words sink in. You’d heard of the man, he was a Hightower but also a skilled knight, probably the only reason Daemon is agreeing to this. He’s also known to be any honourable man, fiercely loyal and ultimately handsome.

“Very well then. If Your Grace commands it, then it shall be done.” You say the words, poised as ever even with the prospect of an utter stranger being your shield. You watch as your sister calls out for him, the doors swinging open and the ginger man, clad in armour walks in with his head low. He doesn’t look at you, not yet, eyes strained on the queen as he bows his head to her out of respect.

“Ser Gwayne. From this day forth, you are to be my sister’s sworn shield. Swear to her.” He nods to the queen, chin dipping low, causing his auburn waves to swing with the wind. When he finally turns to you, his deep blue eyes bore into yours for the first time.

He kept his eyes connected with yours as he knelt down before you, the metal of his armour clanking is the only sound that fills the room as he hold up his hand, for you to slip yours into. Your hand, previously clutched at your side, now rises to meet his, “My Lady.” Gwayne finally begins, “I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours, if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.”

His voice is mellow, like a soothing balm as his gaze is intense in contrast, exhibiting an emotion you can’t quite place. His thumb runs over your knuckles as he speaks, sending a shiver down your spine, and when he’s done reciting the words, he brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a firm kiss onto his Princess’ hand.

“You are quite skilled, My Lady.”

You startle at the voice, not expecting anyone to be amiss at this hour of the night, swinging around with sword still in hand, read to attack the owner of said voice, only to be met with the most beautiful blue eyes and his hands up defensively. “You had me in quite a panic for a moment, to see you missing from your chambers when I was right outside.” Gwayne says, the tip of your sword hovering just a few inches from his neck.

“I prefer that cover of night to train. Lesser eyes.” You respond, holding your stance, he might be your shield but he’s still a Hightower and you two are quite alone. As a princess of the realm, it’s seen as unladylike to know how to wield a weapon, something you never understood. They give you a dragon and expect you to ride into battles but not a sword in your hand? Laughable.

“I suppose you will not inform me of the way you escaped?” He poses it as a question as he takes a step closer, closer till the blade of your sword actually nicks the side of his neck, the sight of blood making you flinch just a bit. A single droplet trickles down from the wound, to the collar of his tunic, dying the cloth a deep red.

It’s odd to see him in regular clothes when you’re so used to seeing him clad in armour. He must’ve realised you were gone after shift change, but considering that the entire castle wasn’t alive and running around looking for you, he must be the only one who knows.

Your train of thought is cut off when you feel his skin on yours, his hand gently caressing yours, the same hand that’s holding up the sword that could kill him if you wished. “I am not going to harm you, My Lady.” He whispers the words into the night’s air like a promise, which is true, he did swear an oath to you, he did promise so.

It’s been about a month since that day in the council chambers. The day he knelt before you and swore to you. Since then, he’d been your shadow, following you around anywhere you went with his rather calming appearance and charming smiles. At the beginning, small talk was kept to a minimum, you couldn’t trust him in the least, son of a schemer must’ve inherited some of his wits, right? But every kind word, every gentle smile chipped away at your wall slowly, and here you were, letting him in on a secret of yours.

You withdraw your blade, causing your hand to rip away from his in the process. You jerk your chin to a wall at the far end of the training ground, a few swords mounted upon it. “Spar with me, Ser.” You don’t leave space for it to be a question, your tone indicating clearly that it’s an order. “It would be my honour.” You watch as he dips his head in obedience, taking a step back before he walks in the direction you instructed.

You watch him, study him as his back turns to you, the lone teach lighting up the arena isn’t ideal but it suffices. You watch as the muscles of his back ripple with every step, the obvious years of training in his gait. Even in the low light, his auburn hair almost shines, making itself known.

“Who taught you?” He calls out as as he unsheathes one of the swords you directed him towards, you stay silent nonetheless, waiting from to walk back but now with a small smile stretching the tips of his lips like there’s something amusing about this encounter.

You wait till he stands a few paces from you, holding up your own sword ready to attack. “My Lady—” Ser Gwayne begins but you interrupt him by lunging forward, aimed at his chest albeit without great force that could cause grave injury, but his instincts kick in anyway, his sword coming up to slash at yours, pushing you back slightly.

Your skills with a weapon that wasn’t your dragon would never be a match for his of course, if it were, then you wouldn’t need him as a shield, would you?

He simply defends as you aim for his shoulder next, his sword catching yours, but you change your grip on the hilt, taking a step back to avoid hurting him but swinging in a motion that would’ve normally given him a nasty gash on his forearm.“My previous shield was a woman.” You begin, earning wide eyes from Gwayne.

You attack a few more times, the nightly breeze making wide of his hair and yours as you continue your dance. He has sworn to never harm you, so all he does is defend against your moves, a sense of him being proud at you courses through his body, the way you control the blade to not hurt him with moves that usually cause bloodshed. He doesn’t move with total ease, you putting up an actual challenge that he had to answer with his own sword.

“She understood how important it was for a Lady to know how to protect herself if she were to ever fall into inescapable peril.” You finish, using your words as distraction to step a fade, turning your whole body to attack what would’ve been a final blow.

“She taught you very well.” Gwayne agrees as your blade comes juts out, sharp edge yet again resting against the crook of his neck, just about the same place that you’d just nicked a few minutes ago, a pleased smile decorating his face.

The realms first big celebration after your sister’s coronation was the Crown Prince Jacaerys’, your nephew’s name day. The whole week leading to his seventeenth name day was brimming with festivities. Hunts, feats, and of course, a joust.

It was hard to take a step outside your room during this time without bumping into multiple servants or labours running around and carrying things. These times were exhausting even if you were a princess who did nothing to contribute. It was just the atmosphere of the place, like the whole palace was holding its breath, waiting for the shoe to drop, for the pinnacle before going back to normal.

You’d hidden away in the courtyard, alone with your thoughts because your usual conversation partner was away practicing and training for the said joust. When your sworn shield approached you for permission to enter the lists, you begrudgingly agreed. After all, it was not but a place for these men in armour to show off their glamor and power.

Six months with Gwayne has certainly softened you to him, even a princess can’t resist his charming smiles for too long. It’s odd now, when you think back to when you first met him, to the wall you had put up to him that you sometimes wonder if it was a good idea to get so comfortable around him.

It was inevitable, of course, when you had such few companions around you that you get attached easily. Your sister was busy with running the realms, your brother in law/uncle…well Daemon was Daemon, your nieces and nephews were too young, the Ladies from families loyal to yours had to be kept at an arms length anyway.

Sighing, you pluck off another wild flower that grow near the roots of the tree and your back rests against its trunk. On your lap, lounging on the silk of your skirts was your flower bracelet, the one you’d give as a favour to a knight during the joust. What started as an escape to boredom grew to a beautiful decorated bracelet, with ribbons of your house and your mother’s, your favourite flowers intertwining like a braid. You stick the flower you just picked into a spot that felt too empty, finally satisfied with the creation.

In tranquility, it’s hard to stop your thoughts from wandering. Will Ser Gwayne ask for your favour? He must out of obligation but you can’t help but wonder if there’s anything genuine about it? If he truly wants your support. You have the right to refuse, of course, but there’s no knight that you’d rather give it to. It’s tradition, of course, that a sworn shield asks and wears the favour of who they are sworn to, it’s seen as scandalous not to.

There were a few contenders worth speaking about, Ser Cristin Cole, Ser Gwayne and a few up and comers. You never paid much heed to them but overheard a few floating conversations amongst the maids and guards. Only time will tell, you suppose.

You hadn’t seen Ser Gwayne all day.

After having him by your side for most hours of the day in the recent months, his absence was odd to say the least, but given that the joust begins in just a few minutes, he’d been off getting ready.

Your favour, the flower bracelet you would slide onto a knights jousting stick, now sat beside you on the small table up on the royal dias, looking down at the jousting ground with the best view the arena has to offer. Your lone journey through your thoughts is broken when you hear your name being called, turning around, you acknowledge the person calling you.

“Queen Dowager, I hope you are well.” You saw as you watch Alicent Hightower headed in your direction, obviously to take a seat beside you. “And I, you.” She responded as she gives you a smile, a perfectly polite and diplomatic one, which you return.

You were only a year younger than your sister, but you never took to deep friendship with Alicent in childhood like your sister did. You’d always known her to be more of a kind older sister-like figure, that is until your father wed her. You understand the political motivations behind the decision but it still irked you to this day.

“I do hope my dear brother has not caused you any trouble.” You asks as Ser Gwayne trots into the jousting field, the whispers erupting around you, between nobles and commoners alike. Gwayne was well-known for his looks, praised by both Lords and Ladies, you never had how un-exaggerated the gossip was until you actually met him, those blue eyes and auburn waves.

“He’s is pleasant.” You respond to his sister, Alicent still draped in Hightower green. who watches Gwayne opponent, Ser Cristian Cole, Alicent’s own sworn shield prance into the field too, seeming that him and Gwayne were to be opponents. The Queen Dowager simply nods at your response, opting to picking the skin on her fingers than respond back.

It’s finally time, just before their helmets finally go on, the knights come up to ask for the favour of their intended Lady. You subconsciously straighten up your back, soothing a hair strand that had been misbehaving all day as your flower bracelet sat just an arm’s breath away from you.

Gwayne’s armour glistens in the sun, well polished and well crafted, moulded to his body with utter perfection as he rides up to the royal box, his jousting pole in hand. Even from the distance, you can see the healed scar of the wound you gave him a mere month after he was sworn to you, something you’ve felt utterly guilty about, scarring him like that but Gwayne just softly chuckles you off everytime you brought it up since then.

It’s odd though, his usual charismatic smile, persona with a smidge of boyishness and an inkling of confident arrogance was…missing. Replaced by a furrowed brow, lips in a serious grimace, you’d never seen him as such.

When he looks up at the box, he doesn’t look at you. His gaze stays strained on the woman next to you, his sister who doesn’t break his stare. He doesn’t spare you an inkling of attention as he opens his mouth to speak, voice laced with something only resembling rage.

“Queen Dowager, mine own dear sister, I would like to ask for your favour.”

P.S. is it unethical of me to start my got/hotd fanfic writing journey by writing gwayne? because my princess x knight obsession is begging to be let out and who am i to stop it.

[velary-on]

one last time . . . 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

sworn shield! Gwayne Hightower x Rhaenyra's sister! Reader

ABOUT.

You’d scoffed at cheesy novels of princesses and their knights falling in love, disregarding it as pure entertainment but nothing could’ve prepared you for experiencing it yourself when Ser Gwayne Hightower swears his life to be your sworn shield.

Now, the night before you’re married off to another, you can’t help but ask him for one last time…

WARNINGS. 17+, no smut but fade to black + intimate kissing scenes. vague descriptions of wounds (gwayne gets minor cuts on his neck and face)

TAGS. (spoilers for the fic below)

hurt/no comfort!! definitely ooc gwayne cause its my first time writing him, NO 'DANCE OF DRAGONS' AU, slowburn lowk because nothing too romantic happens in ch.1, reader knows how to weild a sword, a joust and those flower bracelet favour things, attempted tension between reader and gwayne, minor miscommunication that doesnt get explained much but its for the plot, reader is scared of lighting storms, reader is referred to have a dragon, for this fic—his room is connected to yours so he can protect you (just go with it😭), hugging and cuddling, reader has an arranged marriage that’s not to gwayne, reader moving away from kings landing cause of the marriage, emotional make out sesh with tears basically lmk if i missed something!

NOTES.

so like don’t think too hard about the logistics of it all okay😭 i bullshitted my way through a lot of this idk if it fits canon narrative well (probs doesn’t)

DISCLAIMER. rn im still on s3ep3 but ive seen the spoilers of ormund refering/implying Gwayne to be queer and until he is canonically confirmed to be gay, he is my pretty bi knight <3

CHAPTER ONE

With the new regime comes reassignment of roles, having to keep the Hightowers in check leads to your sister, Rhaenyra to assign the Queen Dowger's brother, Ser Gwayne Hightower as your sworn shield.

Come a few moons after Ser Gwayne becomes your sheild, you can't help but gain some affections for the beautiful knight but now, its your nephew, Jacaerys' nameday joust and here comes something you did not expect.

CHAPTER TWO

coming soon. . .

P.S. first fic on this blog AND first fic in a WHILE how are we feeling fam? also this was supposed to be one long fic but uhhh idk man

[velary-on]

one last time . . . 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏

ABOUT.

With the new regime comes reassignment of roles, having to keep the Hightowers in check leads to your sister, Rhaenyra to assign the Queen Dowger's brother, Ser Gwayne Hightower as your sworn shield.

Come a few moons after Ser Gwayne becomes your sheild, you can't help but gain some affections for the beautiful knight but now, its your nephew, Jacaerys' nameday joust and here comes something you did not expect.

WARNINGS. no smut. vague descriptions of wounds (gwayne gets a minor cut on his neck)

TAGS.

fem!reader, definitely ooc gwayne cause its my first time writing him, NO 'DANCE OF DRAGONS' AU, slowburn lowk because nothing too romantic happens in ch.1, reader knows how to weild a sword, unrealistic swordsmanship cause i know jack shit about it, a joust and those flower bracelet favour things, attempted tension between reader and gwayne, sorta plot twist at the end? it’s explained in the next chapter, also not proofread!! so there might be inconsistencies cause i wrote the ending and then came back to the sword fight scene

NOTES.

so like don’t think too hard about the logistics of it all okay😭 i bullshitted my way through a lot of this idk if it fits canon narrative well (probs doesn’t)

DISCLAIMER. rn im still on s3ep3 but ive seen the spoilers of ormund refering/implying Gwayne to be queer and until he is canonically confirmed to be gay, he is my pretty bi knight <3

<- 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Marriage was a political tool, a hoax of a union only meant to unite realms and solidify them, it’s is not for love, not for royalties that rule the kingdoms. You were aware of this, your sister never promised you a fable-like love, she had prepared you for this, to marry for familial gain, and yet it feels so strange.

Probably because you unknowingly surrendered your heart to someone you shouldn’t have.

You still remember the day you met him for the very first time. There was well expected chaos after your sister Rhaenyra ascended your father’s throne as Queen to the realm, so about a week after her coronation, you were called into the council chambers, but it was only your sister and your brother-in-law Daemon.

“Alicent’s family, the Hightowers.” Rhaenyra started, “They need to be kept in check. We have figured out what to do with Otto and Ormund but…Ser Gwayne seems to be causing quite the…problem.” She finished, fingers fidgeting with the orb placed in front of her to signify her attendance to the meetings.

“So, much to my dismay.” Daemon continues, glancing to his wife. “We’d like for you to take him as your sworn shield.” You blinked at them, taking a moment to let the words sink in. You’d heard of the man, he was a Hightower but also a skilled knight, probably the only reason Daemon is agreeing to this. He’s also known to be any honourable man, fiercely loyal and ultimately handsome.

“Very well then. If Your Grace commands it, then it shall be done.” You say the words, poised as ever even with the prospect of an utter stranger being your shield. You watch as your sister calls out for him, the doors swinging open and the ginger man, clad in armour walks in with his head low. He doesn’t look at you, not yet, eyes strained on the queen as he bows his head to her out of respect.

“Ser Gwayne. From this day forth, you are to be my sister’s sworn shield. Swear to her.” He nods to the queen, chin dipping low, causing his auburn waves to swing with the wind. When he finally turns to you, his deep blue eyes bore into yours for the first time.

He kept his eyes connected with yours as he knelt down before you, the metal of his armour clanking is the only sound that fills the room as he hold up his hand, for you to slip yours into. Your hand, previously clutched at your side, now rises to meet his, “My Lady.” Gwayne finally begins, “I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours, if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.”

His voice is mellow, like a soothing balm as his gaze is intense in contrast, exhibiting an emotion you can’t quite place. His thumb runs over your knuckles as he speaks, sending a shiver down your spine, and when he’s done reciting the words, he brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a firm kiss onto his Princess’ hand.

“You are quite skilled, My Lady.”

You startle at the voice, not expecting anyone to be amiss at this hour of the night, swinging around with sword still in hand, read to attack the owner of said voice, only to be met with the most beautiful blue eyes and his hands up defensively. “You had me in quite a panic for a moment, to see you missing from your chambers when I was right outside.” Gwayne says, the tip of your sword hovering just a few inches from his neck.

“I prefer that cover of night to train. Lesser eyes.” You respond, holding your stance, he might be your shield but he’s still a Hightower and you two are quite alone. As a princess of the realm, it’s seen as unladylike to know how to wield a weapon, something you never understood. They give you a dragon and expect you to ride into battles but not a sword in your hand? Laughable.

“I suppose you will not inform me of the way you escaped?” He poses it as a question as he takes a step closer, closer till the blade of your sword actually nicks the side of his neck, the sight of blood making you flinch just a bit. A single droplet trickles down from the wound, to the collar of his tunic, dying the cloth a deep red.

It’s odd to see him in regular clothes when you’re so used to seeing him clad in armour. He must’ve realised you were gone after shift change, but considering that the entire castle wasn’t alive and running around looking for you, he must be the only one who knows.

Your train of thought is cut off when you feel his skin on yours, his hand gently caressing yours, the same hand that’s holding up the sword that could kill him if you wished. “I am not going to harm you, My Lady.” He whispers the words into the night’s air like a promise, which is true, he did swear an oath to you, he did promise so.

It’s been about a month since that day in the council chambers. The day he knelt before you and swore to you. Since then, he’d been your shadow, following you around anywhere you went with his rather calming appearance and charming smiles. At the beginning, small talk was kept to a minimum, you couldn’t trust him in the least, son of a schemer must’ve inherited some of his wits, right? But every kind word, every gentle smile chipped away at your wall slowly, and here you were, letting him in on a secret of yours.

You withdraw your blade, causing your hand to rip away from his in the process. You jerk your chin to a wall at the far end of the training ground, a few swords mounted upon it. “Spar with me, Ser.” You don’t leave space for it to be a question, your tone indicating clearly that it’s an order. “It would be my honour.” You watch as he dips his head in obedience, taking a step back before he walks in the direction you instructed.

You watch him, study him as his back turns to you, the lone teach lighting up the arena isn’t ideal but it suffices. You watch as the muscles of his back ripple with every step, the obvious years of training in his gait. Even in the low light, his auburn hair almost shines, making itself known.

“Who taught you?” He calls out as as he unsheathes one of the swords you directed him towards, you stay silent nonetheless, waiting from to walk back but now with a small smile stretching the tips of his lips like there’s something amusing about this encounter.

You wait till he stands a few paces from you, holding up your own sword ready to attack. “My Lady—” Ser Gwayne begins but you interrupt him by lunging forward, aimed at his chest albeit without great force that could cause grave injury, but his instincts kick in anyway, his sword coming up to slash at yours, pushing you back slightly.

Your skills with a weapon that wasn’t your dragon would never be a match for his of course, if it were, then you wouldn’t need him as a shield, would you?

He simply defends as you aim for his shoulder next, his sword catching yours, but you change your grip on the hilt, taking a step back to avoid hurting him but swinging in a motion that would’ve normally given him a nasty gash on his forearm.“My previous shield was a woman.” You begin, earning wide eyes from Gwayne.

You attack a few more times, the nightly breeze making wide of his hair and yours as you continue your dance. He has sworn to never harm you, so all he does is defend against your moves, a sense of him being proud at you courses through his body, the way you control the blade to not hurt him with moves that usually cause bloodshed. He doesn’t move with total ease, you putting up an actual challenge that he had to answer with his own sword.

“She understood how important it was for a Lady to know how to protect herself if she were to ever fall into inescapable peril.” You finish, using your words as distraction to step a fade, turning your whole body to attack what would’ve been a final blow.

“She taught you very well.” Gwayne agrees as your blade comes juts out, sharp edge yet again resting against the crook of his neck, just about the same place that you’d just nicked a few minutes ago, a pleased smile decorating his face.

The realms first big celebration after your sister’s coronation was the Crown Prince Jacaerys’, your nephew’s name day. The whole week leading to his seventeenth name day was brimming with festivities. Hunts, feats, and of course, a joust.

It was hard to take a step outside your room during this time without bumping into multiple servants or labours running around and carrying things. These times were exhausting even if you were a princess who did nothing to contribute. It was just the atmosphere of the place, like the whole palace was holding its breath, waiting for the shoe to drop, for the pinnacle before going back to normal.

You’d hidden away in the courtyard, alone with your thoughts because your usual conversation partner was away practicing and training for the said joust. When your sworn shield approached you for permission to enter the lists, you begrudgingly agreed. After all, it was not but a place for these men in armour to show off their glamor and power.

Six months with Gwayne has certainly softened you to him, even a princess can’t resist his charming smiles for too long. It’s odd now, when you think back to when you first met him, to the wall you had put up to him that you sometimes wonder if it was a good idea to get so comfortable around him.

It was inevitable, of course, when you had such few companions around you that you get attached easily. Your sister was busy with running the realms, your brother in law/uncle…well Daemon was Daemon, your nieces and nephews were too young, the Ladies from families loyal to yours had to be kept at an arms length anyway.

Sighing, you pluck off another wild flower that grow near the roots of the tree and your back rests against its trunk. On your lap, lounging on the silk of your skirts was your flower bracelet, the one you’d give as a favour to a knight during the joust. What started as an escape to boredom grew to a beautiful decorated bracelet, with ribbons of your house and your mother’s, your favourite flowers intertwining like a braid. You stick the flower you just picked into a spot that felt too empty, finally satisfied with the creation.

In tranquility, it’s hard to stop your thoughts from wandering. Will Ser Gwayne ask for your favour? He must out of obligation but you can’t help but wonder if there’s anything genuine about it? If he truly wants your support. You have the right to refuse, of course, but there’s no knight that you’d rather give it to. It’s tradition, of course, that a sworn shield asks and wears the favour of who they are sworn to, it’s seen as scandalous not to.

There were a few contenders worth speaking about, Ser Cristin Cole, Ser Gwayne and a few up and comers. You never paid much heed to them but overheard a few floating conversations amongst the maids and guards. Only time will tell, you suppose.

You hadn’t seen Ser Gwayne all day.

After having him by your side for most hours of the day in the recent months, his absence was odd to say the least, but given that the joust begins in just a few minutes, he’d been off getting ready.

Your favour, the flower bracelet you would slide onto a knights jousting stick, now sat beside you on the small table up on the royal dias, looking down at the jousting ground with the best view the arena has to offer. Your lone journey through your thoughts is broken when you hear your name being called, turning around, you acknowledge the person calling you.

“Queen Dowager, I hope you are well.” You saw as you watch Alicent Hightower headed in your direction, obviously to take a seat beside you. “And I, you.” She responded as she gives you a smile, a perfectly polite and diplomatic one, which you return.

You were only a year younger than your sister, but you never took to deep friendship with Alicent in childhood like your sister did. You’d always known her to be more of a kind older sister-like figure, that is until your father wed her. You understand the political motivations behind the decision but it still irked you to this day.

“I do hope my dear brother has not caused you any trouble.” You asks as Ser Gwayne trots into the jousting field, the whispers erupting around you, between nobles and commoners alike. Gwayne was well-known for his looks, praised by both Lords and Ladies, you never had how un-exaggerated the gossip was until you actually met him, those blue eyes and auburn waves.

“He’s is pleasant.” You respond to his sister, Alicent still draped in Hightower green. who watches Gwayne opponent, Ser Cristian Cole, Alicent’s own sworn shield prance into the field too, seeming that him and Gwayne were to be opponents. The Queen Dowager simply nods at your response, opting to picking the skin on her fingers than respond back.

It’s finally time, just before their helmets finally go on, the knights come up to ask for the favour of their intended Lady. You subconsciously straighten up your back, soothing a hair strand that had been misbehaving all day as your flower bracelet sat just an arm’s breath away from you.

Gwayne’s armour glistens in the sun, well polished and well crafted, moulded to his body with utter perfection as he rides up to the royal box, his jousting pole in hand. Even from the distance, you can see the healed scar of the wound you gave him a mere month after he was sworn to you, something you’ve felt utterly guilty about, scarring him like that but Gwayne just softly chuckles you off everytime you brought it up since then.

It’s odd though, his usual charismatic smile, persona with a smidge of boyishness and an inkling of confident arrogance was…missing. Replaced by a furrowed brow, lips in a serious grimace, you’d never seen him as such.

When he looks up at the box, he doesn’t look at you. His gaze stays strained on the woman next to you, his sister who doesn’t break his stare. He doesn’t spare you an inkling of attention as he opens his mouth to speak, voice laced with something only resembling rage.

“Queen Dowager, mine own dear sister, I would like to ask for your favour.”

P.S. is it unethical of me to start my got/hotd fanfic writing journey by writing gwayne? because my princess x knight obsession is begging to be let out and who am i to stop it.

[velary-on]

one last time . . . 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏

ABOUT.

With the new regime comes reassignment of roles, having to keep the Hightowers in check leads to your sister, Rhaenyra to assign the Queen Dowger's brother, Ser Gwayne Hightower as your sworn shield.

Come a few moons after Ser Gwayne becomes your sheild, you can't help but gain some affections for the beautiful knight but now, its your nephew, Jacaerys' nameday joust and here comes something you did not expect.

WARNINGS. no smut. vague descriptions of wounds (gwayne gets a minor cut on his neck)

TAGS.

fem!reader, definitely ooc gwayne cause its my first time writing him, NO 'DANCE OF DRAGONS' AU, slowburn lowk because nothing too romantic happens in ch.1, reader knows how to weild a sword, unrealistic swordsmanship cause i know jack shit about it, a joust and those flower bracelet favour things, attempted tension between reader and gwayne, sorta plot twist at the end? it’s explained in the next chapter, also not proofread!! so there might be inconsistencies cause i wrote the ending and then came back to the sword fight scene

NOTES.

so like don’t think too hard about the logistics of it all okay😭 i bullshitted my way through a lot of this idk if it fits canon narrative well (probs doesn’t)

DISCLAIMER. rn im still on s3ep3 but ive seen the spoilers of ormund refering/implying Gwayne to be queer and until he is canonically confirmed to be gay, he is my pretty bi knight <3

<- 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Marriage was a political tool, a hoax of a union only meant to unite realms and solidify them, it’s is not for love, not for royalties that rule the kingdoms. You were aware of this, your sister never promised you a fable-like love, she had prepared you for this, to marry for familial gain, and yet it feels so strange.

Probably because you unknowingly surrendered your heart to someone you shouldn’t have.

You still remember the day you met him for the very first time. There was well expected chaos after your sister Rhaenyra ascended your father’s throne as Queen to the realm, so about a week after her coronation, you were called into the council chambers, but it was only your sister and your brother-in-law Daemon.

“Alicent’s family, the Hightowers.” Rhaenyra started, “They need to be kept in check. We have figured out what to do with Otto and Ormund but…Ser Gwayne seems to be causing quite the…problem.” She finished, fingers fidgeting with the orb placed in front of her to signify her attendance to the meetings.

“So, much to my dismay.” Daemon continues, glancing to his wife. “We’d like for you to take him as your sworn shield.” You blinked at them, taking a moment to let the words sink in. You’d heard of the man, he was a Hightower but also a skilled knight, probably the only reason Daemon is agreeing to this. He’s also known to be any honourable man, fiercely loyal and ultimately handsome.

“Very well then. If Your Grace commands it, then it shall be done.” You say the words, poised as ever even with the prospect of an utter stranger being your shield. You watch as your sister calls out for him, the doors swinging open and the ginger man, clad in armour walks in with his head low. He doesn’t look at you, not yet, eyes strained on the queen as he bows his head to her out of respect.

“Ser Gwayne. From this day forth, you are to be my sister’s sworn shield. Swear to her.” He nods to the queen, chin dipping low, causing his auburn waves to swing with the wind. When he finally turns to you, his deep blue eyes bore into yours for the first time.

He kept his eyes connected with yours as he knelt down before you, the metal of his armour clanking is the only sound that fills the room as he hold up his hand, for you to slip yours into. Your hand, previously clutched at your side, now rises to meet his, “My Lady.” Gwayne finally begins, “I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours, if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.”

His voice is mellow, like a soothing balm as his gaze is intense in contrast, exhibiting an emotion you can’t quite place. His thumb runs over your knuckles as he speaks, sending a shiver down your spine, and when he’s done reciting the words, he brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a firm kiss onto his Princess’ hand.

“You are quite skilled, My Lady.”

You startle at the voice, not expecting anyone to be amiss at this hour of the night, swinging around with sword still in hand, read to attack the owner of said voice, only to be met with the most beautiful blue eyes and his hands up defensively. “You had me in quite a panic for a moment, to see you missing from your chambers when I was right outside.” Gwayne says, the tip of your sword hovering just a few inches from his neck.

“I prefer that cover of night to train. Lesser eyes.” You respond, holding your stance, he might be your shield but he’s still a Hightower and you two are quite alone. As a princess of the realm, it’s seen as unladylike to know how to wield a weapon, something you never understood. They give you a dragon and expect you to ride into battles but not a sword in your hand? Laughable.

“I suppose you will not inform me of the way you escaped?” He poses it as a question as he takes a step closer, closer till the blade of your sword actually nicks the side of his neck, the sight of blood making you flinch just a bit. A single droplet trickles down from the wound, to the collar of his tunic, dying the cloth a deep red.

It’s odd to see him in regular clothes when you’re so used to seeing him clad in armour. He must’ve realised you were gone after shift change, but considering that the entire castle wasn’t alive and running around looking for you, he must be the only one who knows.

Your train of thought is cut off when you feel his skin on yours, his hand gently caressing yours, the same hand that’s holding up the sword that could kill him if you wished. “I am not going to harm you, My Lady.” He whispers the words into the night’s air like a promise, which is true, he did swear an oath to you, he did promise so.

It’s been about a month since that day in the council chambers. The day he knelt before you and swore to you. Since then, he’d been your shadow, following you around anywhere you went with his rather calming appearance and charming smiles. At the beginning, small talk was kept to a minimum, you couldn’t trust him in the least, son of a schemer must’ve inherited some of his wits, right? But every kind word, every gentle smile chipped away at your wall slowly, and here you were, letting him in on a secret of yours.

You withdraw your blade, causing your hand to rip away from his in the process. You jerk your chin to a wall at the far end of the training ground, a few swords mounted upon it. “Spar with me, Ser.” You don’t leave space for it to be a question, your tone indicating clearly that it’s an order. “It would be my honour.” You watch as he dips his head in obedience, taking a step back before he walks in the direction you instructed.

You watch him, study him as his back turns to you, the lone teach lighting up the arena isn’t ideal but it suffices. You watch as the muscles of his back ripple with every step, the obvious years of training in his gait. Even in the low light, his auburn hair almost shines, making itself known.

“Who taught you?” He calls out as as he unsheathes one of the swords you directed him towards, you stay silent nonetheless, waiting from to walk back but now with a small smile stretching the tips of his lips like there’s something amusing about this encounter.

You wait till he stands a few paces from you, holding up your own sword ready to attack. “My Lady—” Ser Gwayne begins but you interrupt him by lunging forward, aimed at his chest albeit without great force that could cause grave injury, but his instincts kick in anyway, his sword coming up to slash at yours, pushing you back slightly.

Your skills with a weapon that wasn’t your dragon would never be a match for his of course, if it were, then you wouldn’t need him as a shield, would you?

He simply defends as you aim for his shoulder next, his sword catching yours, but you change your grip on the hilt, taking a step back to avoid hurting him but swinging in a motion that would’ve normally given him a nasty gash on his forearm.“My previous shield was a woman.” You begin, earning wide eyes from Gwayne.

You attack a few more times, the nightly breeze making wide of his hair and yours as you continue your dance. He has sworn to never harm you, so all he does is defend against your moves, a sense of him being proud at you courses through his body, the way you control the blade to not hurt him with moves that usually cause bloodshed. He doesn’t move with total ease, you putting up an actual challenge that he had to answer with his own sword.

“She understood how important it was for a Lady to know how to protect herself if she were to ever fall into inescapable peril.” You finish, using your words as distraction to step a fade, turning your whole body to attack what would’ve been a final blow.

“She taught you very well.” Gwayne agrees as your blade comes juts out, sharp edge yet again resting against the crook of his neck, just about the same place that you’d just nicked a few minutes ago, a pleased smile decorating his face.

The realms first big celebration after your sister’s coronation was the Crown Prince Jacaerys’, your nephew’s name day. The whole week leading to his seventeenth name day was brimming with festivities. Hunts, feats, and of course, a joust.

It was hard to take a step outside your room during this time without bumping into multiple servants or labours running around and carrying things. These times were exhausting even if you were a princess who did nothing to contribute. It was just the atmosphere of the place, like the whole palace was holding its breath, waiting for the shoe to drop, for the pinnacle before going back to normal.

You’d hidden away in the courtyard, alone with your thoughts because your usual conversation partner was away practicing and training for the said joust. When your sworn shield approached you for permission to enter the lists, you begrudgingly agreed. After all, it was not but a place for these men in armour to show off their glamor and power.

Six months with Gwayne has certainly softened you to him, even a princess can’t resist his charming smiles for too long. It’s odd now, when you think back to when you first met him, to the wall you had put up to him that you sometimes wonder if it was a good idea to get so comfortable around him.

It was inevitable, of course, when you had such few companions around you that you get attached easily. Your sister was busy with running the realms, your brother in law/uncle…well Daemon was Daemon, your nieces and nephews were too young, the Ladies from families loyal to yours had to be kept at an arms length anyway.

Sighing, you pluck off another wild flower that grow near the roots of the tree and your back rests against its trunk. On your lap, lounging on the silk of your skirts was your flower bracelet, the one you’d give as a favour to a knight during the joust. What started as an escape to boredom grew to a beautiful decorated bracelet, with ribbons of your house and your mother’s, your favourite flowers intertwining like a braid. You stick the flower you just picked into a spot that felt too empty, finally satisfied with the creation.

In tranquility, it’s hard to stop your thoughts from wandering. Will Ser Gwayne ask for your favour? He must out of obligation but you can’t help but wonder if there’s anything genuine about it? If he truly wants your support. You have the right to refuse, of course, but there’s no knight that you’d rather give it to. It’s tradition, of course, that a sworn shield asks and wears the favour of who they are sworn to, it’s seen as scandalous not to.

There were a few contenders worth speaking about, Ser Cristin Cole, Ser Gwayne and a few up and comers. You never paid much heed to them but overheard a few floating conversations amongst the maids and guards. Only time will tell, you suppose.

You hadn’t seen Ser Gwayne all day.

After having him by your side for most hours of the day in the recent months, his absence was odd to say the least, but given that the joust begins in just a few minutes, he’d been off getting ready.

Your favour, the flower bracelet you would slide onto a knights jousting stick, now sat beside you on the small table up on the royal dias, looking down at the jousting ground with the best view the arena has to offer. Your lone journey through your thoughts is broken when you hear your name being called, turning around, you acknowledge the person calling you.

“Queen Dowager, I hope you are well.” You saw as you watch Alicent Hightower headed in your direction, obviously to take a seat beside you. “And I, you.” She responded as she gives you a smile, a perfectly polite and diplomatic one, which you return.

You were only a year younger than your sister, but you never took to deep friendship with Alicent in childhood like your sister did. You’d always known her to be more of a kind older sister-like figure, that is until your father wed her. You understand the political motivations behind the decision but it still irked you to this day.

“I do hope my dear brother has not caused you any trouble.” You asks as Ser Gwayne trots into the jousting field, the whispers erupting around you, between nobles and commoners alike. Gwayne was well-known for his looks, praised by both Lords and Ladies, you never had how un-exaggerated the gossip was until you actually met him, those blue eyes and auburn waves.

“He’s is pleasant.” You respond to his sister, Alicent still draped in Hightower green. who watches Gwayne opponent, Ser Cristian Cole, Alicent’s own sworn shield prance into the field too, seeming that him and Gwayne were to be opponents. The Queen Dowager simply nods at your response, opting to picking the skin on her fingers than respond back.

It’s finally time, just before their helmets finally go on, the knights come up to ask for the favour of their intended Lady. You subconsciously straighten up your back, soothing a hair strand that had been misbehaving all day as your flower bracelet sat just an arm’s breath away from you.

Gwayne’s armour glistens in the sun, well polished and well crafted, moulded to his body with utter perfection as he rides up to the royal box, his jousting pole in hand. Even from the distance, you can see the healed scar of the wound you gave him a mere month after he was sworn to you, something you’ve felt utterly guilty about, scarring him like that but Gwayne just softly chuckles you off everytime you brought it up since then.

It’s odd though, his usual charismatic smile, persona with a smidge of boyishness and an inkling of confident arrogance was…missing. Replaced by a furrowed brow, lips in a serious grimace, you’d never seen him as such.

When he looks up at the box, he doesn’t look at you. His gaze stays strained on the woman next to you, his sister who doesn’t break his stare. He doesn’t spare you an inkling of attention as he opens his mouth to speak, voice laced with something only resembling rage.

“Queen Dowager, mine own dear sister, I would like to ask for your favour.”

P.S. is it unethical of me to start my got/hotd fanfic writing journey by writing gwayne? because my princess x knight obsession is begging to be let out and who am i to stop it.

don’t forget to comment or reblog if you enjoyed!

[velary-on]

one last time . . . 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

sworn shield! Gwayne Hightower x Rhaenyra's sister! Reader

ABOUT.

You’d scoffed at cheesy novels of princesses and their knights falling in love, disregarding it as pure entertainment but nothing could’ve prepared you for experiencing it yourself when Ser Gwayne Hightower swears his life to be your sworn shield.

Now, the night before you’re married off to another, you can’t help but ask him for one last time…

WARNINGS. 17+, no smut but fade to black + intimate kissing scenes. vague descriptions of wounds (gwayne gets minor cuts on his neck and face)

TAGS. (spoilers for the fic below)

hurt/no comfort!! definitely ooc gwayne cause its my first time writing him, NO 'DANCE OF DRAGONS' AU, slowburn lowk because nothing too romantic happens in ch.1, reader knows how to weild a sword, a joust and those flower bracelet favour things, attempted tension between reader and gwayne, minor miscommunication that doesnt get explained much but its for the plot, reader is scared of lighting storms, reader is referred to have a dragon, for this fic—his room is connected to yours so he can protect you (just go with it😭), hugging and cuddling, reader has an arranged marriage that’s not to gwayne, reader moving away from kings landing cause of the marriage, emotional make out sesh with tears basically lmk if i missed something!

NOTES.

so like don’t think too hard about the logistics of it all okay😭 i bullshitted my way through a lot of this idk if it fits canon narrative well (probs doesn’t)

DISCLAIMER. rn im still on s3ep3 but ive seen the spoilers of ormund refering/implying Gwayne to be queer and until he is canonically confirmed to be gay, he is my pretty bi knight <3

CHAPTER ONE

With the new regime comes reassignment of roles, having to keep the Hightowers in check leads to your sister, Rhaenyra to assign the Queen Dowger's brother, Ser Gwayne Hightower as your sworn shield.

Come a few moons after Ser Gwayne becomes your sheild, you can't help but gain some affections for the beautiful knight but now, its your nephew, Jacaerys' nameday joust and here comes something you did not expect.

CHAPTER TWO

coming soon. . .

P.S. first fic on this blog AND first fic in a WHILE how are we feeling fam? also this was supposed to be one long fic but uhhh idk man

[velvetdragons]

I will keep writing my Gwayne fics the way they were intended but I will be sure to include nuances of his attraction to males as well, because bisexual men are just as lovely. 🤍

[cestpasfaux24601]

Bertie Carvel as Baelor Targaryen A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms S01 (2026)

[sedonasummer]

ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴘᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇᴍ (ᴀɢᴀɪɴ) | ʜᴏᴛᴅ + ᴀᴋᴏᴛꜱᴋ ᴍᴇɴ

─ summary: you're not speaking to them. how long before they break?

─ pairing: Gwayne Hightower, Ormund Hightower, Aegon II Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Daeron Targaryen, Valarr Targaryen, Jacaerys Velaryon x f!reader

─ content: 18+ MDNI | fluff | a little angst | implied smut | annoying husbands | hardheaded men

─ a/n: i wanted to add onto the original by doing the other AKOTSK/HOTD men. as always, thank you so much for the likes, comments, reblogs, requests, and asks. 🖤

AEGON — Three Days.

The first day he pretends he is not bothered at all. He drinks, he acts out, he stays up the whole night through, making a great show of being a man who doesn't care. By the second day the show is wearing thin, because the truth is that he cares a lot. All he wants is to be near you, but he is stubborn, and some part of him is convinced that you ought to apologize first. By the third day, he cannot bear it another hour. He comes to your room pouting like a scolded child, saying he is sorry, begging you to speak to him again. "I cannot continue!" Dramatic to the very last. You give in, partly because you did miss him, and partly because you would rather not have the whole keep hearing him carrying on like this.

AEMOND — Two Days.

More than anything, Aemond is desperate for love; the love you give him so freely, that no one else ever has. He knows he was wrong. He knows you are right not to speak to him. But he will not say so, because his pride is a vast and immovable thing. He lies in his own bed that second night, cold and alone and sleepless, and decides at last that his pride is not worth this. He rises, sneaks into your chambers and climbs silently into your bed, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your forehead. "May I stay?" he asks. He cannot make himself say the words I was wrong, that is not his way, but the look in his eye, and the tears standing in it, say it loudly enough. You nod.

DAERON — Forever, Potentially.

He does not remember the fight, or you telling him to sleep elsewhere. He simply wakes to find you not speaking to him, and being who he is, assumes your love for him has finally run dry, that you no longer have it in you to endure him, and he is crushed by it. But he understands. Someone like you deserves a far better husband than the likes of him. So he resolves to disappear, to stop being a burden, to never trouble you again. It goes on like this for almost a week while you slowly lose your mind, because what in the actual hell is happening?! You confront him at last. He is stunned, he remembers none of it, but more than that, the revelation that you still love him undoes him completely. He pulls you into his arms and kisses you hard. The kind of kiss where his arms are around your waist pulling you impossibly close and your hands are curled in the front of his doublet. You're left so breathless you don't even remember why you were upset. He apologizes, swears he will change, he does not want to live in a world in which you have stopped loving him.

GWAYNE — An Hour.

The sweetest, most devoted husband, completely undone by the barest hint of your displeasure. If you are upset and not speaking to him, he lasts an hour at the very most before he comes to you with a little gift and a very big apology. He is so sorry for being so careless, he will never do such a thing again, never ever, he swears it. And he is so handsome and so sincere as he says it that staying angry is simply not an option available to you. You step into his arms and let him hold you and kiss you.

JACAERYS — Less Than an Hour.

The stress he carries makes him irritable sometimes, careless, a symptom of his youth as much as anything, and he says something snippy when you were only trying to help. He does not even let you leave the room. The words are barely out of his mouth before he regrets them and is apologizing. You try to walk past him and he stops you gently, both hands on your shoulders, his eyes piercing straight through you. He is putting an end to this before it can go anywhere at all. He repeats his apology, his hands sliding from your shoulders down to hold both of yours. You nod, but you need a moment, and he gives it to you. Your silence is the only thing he can think of, occupying him entirely until, an hour later, you come and find him, and climb into his lap, and let him hold you. He will never speak to you that way again.

ORMUND — A Day.

He is a pain in your ass, and he wants to break you. "Hmm. Not speaking to me now?" he says with that infuriating smile the moment he realizes what you are doing. He crowds your space all day, and he is, frankly, impressed by the sheer iron of your resolve. If only all his soldiers possessed your discipline. "How long do you imagine this can continue? You must speak to me sooner or later." After a full day of it, you do indeed snap. "Seven hells, do you ever stop talking?!" You storm out of the room, slamming the door behind you. He will not tolerate that in his house; he follows you, his fury matching your own, as he pulls you into the bedchamber. What follows is a fight indeed, a battle for dominance, each of you determined to have the upper hand. You win.

VALARR — Until Supper.

You and Valarr are in the middle of a thunderous fight, the first of your marriage. You and he on opposite sides of the room, nothing but tension and frigid air between you, when you decide to stop speaking to him altogether. He wants to fix this, but he also does not think hashing it out in the heat of the moment is particularly productive,not while you are both still upset. He lets you be silent, but you do not get to be angry at him all day. He comes to dress for supper and makes it clear he means to talk about it now, and he apologizes thoroughly for his part in it. It is difficult to maintain anger against someone so clearheaded. You apologize, forgive him, and ask him to help you with your dress. He decides to skip supper in favor of eating something else entirely.

[breakspeardaily]

Bertie Carvel as Baelor 'Breakspear' Targaryen

1.03 | THE SQUIRE

[velvetdragons]

*me reading that gwayne might be gay after posting a new fic for him with a female love interest just yesterday*

[fictionanddiatribes]

Rhaenyra could've so easily won the war unscathed with the amount of dragon rider sisters and daughters spawning off on fanfiction to marry those hightower hotties

[velary-on]

༄ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐖 ༄

DISCLAIMER. breaking any of my boundaries will get you blocked! esp. the incest thing and the black vs green with me, WILL GET YOU BLOCKED!!!

༄ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐒 ༄

hate towards me or any character (or in general) will result in being blocked

do NOT bring the team black vs team green thing here i will not entertain any of that. i am proudly team black and ion wanna argue about it

if you’re rude or pushy, i won’t answer your ask/requests .

please try not to ask for pt.2-s for one shots. unless already mentioned, i have no intention or motivation to write a pt.2 :[

whether or not i write your request is totally up to me, please understand that.

༄ 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐒 ༄

LOVERS.

aerion targaryen

gwayne hightower

jacaerys velaryon

CAN DO.

only x reader fics...I write afab/fem!reader but i can try gender neutral. I don’t think i can confidently write amad/male!reader :( in the same way, i write f/m. i can try f/f (keyword: try). but i can’t do m/m.

fluff and angst i can obviously write. i’m too uh shy to write smut i fear so no smut💀. on the other hand i’ve very good with sexual undertone/implied sex. i’m willing to write only romantic/platonic relationships.

WILL NOT DO.

non-con, r*pe, SA requests are gonna be blocked. no incest of any sort including pseudo/faux/step incest. will not write for real people/celebrities. only fictional characters. won’t do nsfw work with characters who are minors, won't do anything related to pregnancy and no reader with children, I’m not comfortable with writing a mom!reader.