#knight of coins ✦ answered asks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seelestia · 5 months ago

Text

✧ the gambler and his knight.

aventurine can't stand having his outfit exposed to the elements nor to the rude hands of clients that won't cooperate – luckily for him, he has you to take care of it all. { aventurine with a bodyguard!reader. }

⎯ fluff & angst. 2.9k wc. headcanons w/ some written scenes. the plot is vv subtle but it's there a.k.a aventurine simps for you (jokingly) but you both end up catching feelings (not jokingly). mentions of violence, death & russian roulette. pre-penacony timeline. a self-indulgent piece to celebrate this blog's 2nd anniv! ★

★ 〜 masterlist.

aventurine who graciously welcomes you under his employment with a game. just a little something to ease your nerves and get you used to his ways. you look at him with such incredulity as if he just fell and hit his head silly. he pays no mind to this – finds it to be amusing a great deal, actually. keep it up, newcomer!

“heads or tails?” he asks, flipping a coin in the air and catching it seamlessly. a routine for him, you would've figured from the sight. “that's. . . an odd way of saying hello,” you point out but your tone bears no hint of protest. he notices that.

“i've heard that one before,” aventurine tilts his head with a smile, nonchalant. “so what's your guess?”

“tails,” you reply without any delay. it's a mindless answer; getting it wrong this way would prove to bear less disappointment compared to putting actual thought in it. “heads for me then,” he whistles.

aventurine opens his palm. it's heads. you frown as if to suspect foul play—but you don't because you know about his notoriously good luck—and your new boss chuckles, almost placatingly.

“looks like i win,” he grins without a care in the world at all. “aren't you starving? let's fetch ourselves a meal, friend.”

a loss rewarded with a prize? you blink. with grace so in contrast to the whiplash you feel, aventurine walks past you with a trail of expensive perfume in his wake. obviously, he expects you to follow and you do after a moment's reluctance.

(this guy is more confusing than the stellaron.)

aventurine who grows quite fond of seeing you acquiesce to his wishes, whether serious or trivial. could you ward off those reporters? could you pour him a drink? could you play a game of poker with him? could you join him for lunch? you're always so professional that he starts to find some mirth in pushing your buttons (never too much). unlucky for you, he does it to be affectionate and lucky for him, you always say yes even if you roll your eyes every single time.

aventurine who trusts you with his credit card. . . to a worrying degree. when asked if he's sure about this, he just waves it off and says it'll be safer in your hands. seriously, this card has been in your possession longer than it's ever been in his. sometimes, he does ask for it back – only to drop some 200k credits to your account. “a tip for doing a good job,” he'd wink casually while you're flabbergasted beyond belief.

aventurine who finds it extremely attractive whenever you step in to protect him from harm. dealing with uncooperative clients is a day in his life, yet some are so brutish they resort to getting physical – but he has you to make sure their hands stay off him. a gun in his direction? knocked off before the trigger even has a chance to get pulled. reaching out to grab him by the collar? they're already on the ground, your foot threateningly pressed on their back as a warning. what a dashing sight – and thanks to you, his pristine outfit has been saved more times than he could count at this point.

aventurine who likes to call you his “knight in shining armor” teasingly. awh, you don't like it? he thinks you're more than deserving of that title with the way you always swoop in to get him out of trouble. if the thousands of credits he gives you aren't enough yet, won't a cute title suffice? “it sounds corny,” you tell him with a grimace—and maybe, yes—but he just chirps coyly, “dunno. i think it's fitting.”

aventurine who makes it his responsibility to check on you after a rough mission. credits are no problem, he'd even reserve the most expensive private doctor in the cosmos if that means you'll recover faster. sadly, he has little to no medical skills – so the most he can offer you is bandages. sure, you can take a bullet to the stomach and handle a punch or two, that's your job, but what about tiny scratches? . . .don't tell him you're about to reject his kind offer.

“what's your favorite color?” he queries, somewhat out of the blue considering the situation where he is helping you tend to a minor cut on your finger. you raise an eyebrow, “why do you wanna know?” as he gently plasters a plain-colored bandage on your skin (which he's only been granted permission to after minutes of begging you to let him do it).

“for the bandages,” aventurine answers. he finds no need to hide his intentions as he runs a thumb over the bandage, softly as to not hurt you, to keep its position secure. “so that the next time you ask, i'll have some in your favorite color for sure.”

“how. . . thoughtful of you,” you snort, amused.

(briefly, he resists the urge to ask if he can place a kiss on your cut for 'luck'. but if he does, you might have his head. so, he'll try another time.)

aventurine who slowly begins to find a sense of comfort in your company. maybe, it's the way you scoff at his quips with a smile or the way you always tell him to be careful. maybe, it's the way you take him seriously or the way you stay by his side—is your job description the only reason why?—or maybe, he's just pathetic and reeks of so much loneliness you feel sympathetic. he can't tell, but he hopes the luxuries he has can persuade you to stay just a little longer. even if you don't actually care. (you do.)

aventurine who notices how anxiety brims in your gaze when you watch him gamble at the table – with a sum too high to be considered sane and sometimes, his own life. he can see it all; how your hands shake as if you want to reach out, how your lips tremble as if you want to tell him to stop. but this is what he's made for, is it not? he'll survive one way or another. . . until fate decides the bill for all his past good fortune is finally due. and when the time comes, he'll be ready for it. (will you?)

a game of russian roulette.

it always starts with thrills only to end with carnage spilled all over the table. luck is the only thing worth praying for at that point and oh, is luck not the dearest friend aventurine ever had? hence the reason why he always agrees, not with a yes but with a “why not?”.

you're there as his protector, yet utterly condemned to the role of a witness as soon as aventurine nods along to that darned game. panic rushes through your veins as the gun is passed around so relaxedly, so easily with laughter all around. aventurine's next in line, you realize grimly. the next decision that comes after is spontaneous, so different from your usual calculated nature – you drag him out of the casino in a frenzy before the weapon even lands in his hand. in your head, there is no other thought louder than: he could've died.

“a shame i didn't get to the fun part,” you hear him hum from behind you, too disturbingly calm for your liking. the bustling noises inside the establishment have all but faded into the background. “that was close, hm?” he laughs, a sound you would've found endearing if this was another occasion. any occasion that doesn't involve teetering dangerously on the precipice of death.

you stop in your tracks and aventurine, behind you, naturally follows. your silence is something he first takes note of and the way your hand shakes as it holds his is the second. you still haven't let go. what's going through your mind? he calls out your name softly, perplexed at your lack of explanation.

“. . .why did you say yes?” you respond with a bitter question. “you could've died. you almost died,” you try to hold back a shout – yet, your words are spat in such a fusillade he feels a seed of guilt starting to bloom inside his lifeless heart. he discards it in favor of putting on a frivolous smile.

“oh, relax,” he lets out a chuckle, one that sounds so ignorant of the taut tension in the air. “it's just some russian roulette. why so serious?” he shrugs as if to physically brush off any seriousness clinging to his figure. his remark gives off the assumption that every single hint of your worry has flown over his head.

“it is serious. . .” you bite your bottom lip. he sneers in return, “yeah? since when?” as if to challenge you to give an actual answer. his life is full of risks, to say otherwise would be a lie. “you're sweet for worrying but you don't actually care about me that much, do you?” he snickers to himself. like the thought of your caring about him can't possibly be true, like it's all just a terrible joke.

but he's the only one laughing.

aventurine falls quiet and finally, genuinely meets your gaze for the first time that night. he doesn't like what he sees. your lips are downturned, unamused and saddened—you do care, a realization that has been left unsaid—and all remainders of levity in him are replaced by immediate dread. it only now registers that the anger, concern, frustration on your face are for him; they're the unavoidable consequences from caring about him.

(his eyes widen. no, no, no.)

“c'mon, you—” he covers it up with a carefree smile, as feigned as it came. he shoves his hand in one of his pockets. it's shaking. “. . .worry too much. you've seen me play a handful of games before. i've never lost a wager, remember?”

you don't look convinced at all. in fact, you look as if you've arrived at the brink of seething. “and if you do? for once in your life, you lose?” you prod him for more. for something, for anything – perhaps, for a promise that he won't do it again.

(but you know aventurine, you know there would be no such promise.)

“then i lose,” he says, final and resigned. “there's really nothing else to it,” he tries to offer you another smile but it didn't quite reach his eyes. “hey. at least, you'll be there to witness my spectacular fall, right? it'll be a show to remember.”

he nearly doesn't manage to keep up the façade. it's already as precarious as it can be. you don't reply to him this time – instead, you let go of his hand to wipe at your cheeks. his gaze trails after your fingers and it freezes upon seeing the pearly tears falling free from your eyes.

aventurine has never seen you cry before. you're always so stone-faced, so hard to break that he recalls almost cheering when he heard you laugh for the first time. that was when you finally won a round of poker against him. a pity, he would've reminisced about the memory more. . . if only the matter of losing and winning a game isn't as serious as it is now.

“don't say that,” you mutter, harshly wiping away at the incessant tears pouring from your eyes more than you'd ever allow them to. some make their way into your mouth, they taste just as bitter as your current frustration. does he truly value his life so little? you can't fathom it, you can't fathom him at all.

but there is one thing you were certain of, at the very least: “you hired me to protect you,” you shake your head unrelentingly, “so i'll do it. until you throw me away, i won't let you die.”

you've stopped crying then. aventurine feels remorse; the tears that you shed because of him are starting to dry. the selfish part of him wants to reach out and brush them away with his thumb – but would you let him? would this lead you further down the rabbit hole that is him? in the end, he decides against it.

“. . .i'm sorry,” he sighs instead, raking a hand through his messy blond hair. whatever it is he is apologizing for, he doesn't have a clue either. he lets his eyes slip shut. he can't bear to look at you, can't bear to look at his pitiful reflection in your eyes.

(he's not worth caring about, can't you see? he dances hand in hand with death – there is no need to subject yourself to being a spectator.)

the two of you then part ways that night with shallow pleasantries on your tongues. no inside jokes, no evident yearning for the other to stay, no more than an awkward exchange of “i'll see you tomorrow.”

on his way 'home', regret and relief clash to form something inexplicably hollow inside kakavasha's chest. he wanted to wipe away your tears—what a regret—but if he did, they would've burned on his skin and became another mark to haunt him—what a relief he didn't. and frankly, if destiny is about to reap his debt, he'd rather go with no regrets at all.

whether those regrets include you? he doesn't have an answer just yet.

(the name at the bottom of his contract with fate is signed as kakavasha. but you wouldn't recognize that name. not as him, at least.)

aventurine whose eyes can't flutter close at night ever since thoughts of you fill his mind more than they already do before. you care for him, you want him to live—all his fault, he allowed himself to get too close—but these realizations are rooted in too deep and refuse to leave. what to do, what to do, what to do?

it isn't supposed to turn out like this.

what he and you have is meant to be transactional; he'd be spared from unnecessary scuffles and you'd be compensated with monetary payment. he means to keep it superficially fun; for him to tease you with jests—so you'd stay and save him from the deafening silence in his head—and for you to dismiss him with that adorably annoyed look on your face. just some silly banter, that's it.

so then, since when are there rounds of poker where he'd coo over your frown when you lost? or the sound of your lecturing after he secretly got you a high-end item? or meals shared together where you'd bicker over the bill? or bandages in your favorite color kept inside his bedside table? since when do you start to care? . . .since when does he start to care?

think of something else.

kakavasha tosses and turns in his bed, but the soft pillows and blanket do nothing to quell these bothers of his. are feelings always this complicated? he places a hand over his eyes, tired and exhausted, and stares at the ceiling as if it could provide him with an answer.

but there's no use.

in a moment void of logical thinking, he reaches for his phone and hovers a finger over your name in his contacts. he is usually good friends with bad ideas – but not this time, he sets his phone down and lets out a frustrated sigh that only his expensive pillows are there to hear.

(for gaiathra's sake, he hasn't even told you his real name yet.)

aventurine who becomes awfully distant the next time he sees you. you accompany him to meetings with clients per usual, but it's different. . . he talks to you succinctly, not verbosely with that trademark grin of his. his face is bereft of the things you grow to like seeing on him. a sincere smile instead of one just for show, for example. but even that's difficult to ask for since he only speaks to fill the silence with empty chatter. he doesn't look you in the eyes either; you feel a pang of hurt, you've always loved his eyes.

aventurine who discards all thoughts of you as soon as he steps inside pier point to be assigned a project. a conclave between the stonehearts is a matter of top confidentiality and you, dutifully, are ordered to wait for him outside the office. though, he'll admit; your absence by his side actually does leave a gaping void—such hypocrisy, really—but at least, those pesky voices in his head know how to shut up when it comes to work.

“penacony. . . is diamond finally ready to do something about it?”

aventurine rests his left hand on the small of his back, fiddling with the clubs-shaped detailing on the fabric there. it looks like an act of idleness from afar, but anyone observant enough would know it's a way to subdue whatever nerves he wishes to hide.

he waits for the person in front of him, gazing at the purplish-red sky of pier point at sunset, to speak. for their next words shall mark the start of his next journey in fate's course.

aventurine who hesitates to let you come to penacony with him at first. but it'd be poor reasoning not to, since some might have a bone to pick with him as the corporation's representative. . . and he knows you'll protest to come with anyway. fine then, situationship discomfiture be damned – not even a second after he steps out of the meeting, his neon eyes finally meet yours. “so, how does a trip to penacony sound?” he announces with a confident smile. you blink, noticing how his lips are wobbling at the sides. you don't say no, however. (if only the two of you know what sort of ride you're getting yourselves into.)

— thanks for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated. why don't we all sob over this man like it's a cryfest ♡

#hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #—stellaronhvnters.#honkai star rail x reader #aventurine x you #hsr headcanons #hsr imagines #hsr fluff #hsr angst #seelestial.inks #gambler & knight 🎲

3K notes · View notes

sansaorgana · 3 months ago

Text

— BEDROOM HYMNS

PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader // Queen Alicent Hightower x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — Your sister-in-law wishes for you to become one of her ladies-in-waiting but you become so much more. Things complicate when your husband comes to visit.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The title is from Florence + The Machine song. Alicent is a lesbian in this fic but she's also very conflicted about it. Reader is 100% bisexual. I wanted to write this fic for some time now because I have a crush on Alicent ever since Season One so yeah... Here we go... 😩😈

WARNINGS — cheating, homosexuality seen as something *wrong* (by Alicent), mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut – tiiiiny bit in the beginning)

WORD COUNT — 6,240

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

BEDROOM HYMNS

You moved away from between her trembling legs after a cry of pleasure muffled by her own hand that she had covered her mouth with. Alicent’s juices were dripping down your chin when you smirked at her and looked up to meet her big brown eyes. Those soft big brown eyes that you adored more than anything. You had always adored them. So full of sadness and softness and you had never wanted anything but to make her feel better.

“Have I pleased you?” You asked while peppering her soft inner thighs with your kisses although you knew the answer already. Her husband had no idea how to please her.

The Queen only nodded and looked away. Poor Alicent – she always felt bad and guilty after the peak had already been reached. The sudden realisation of her sin was soul-crushing but the tension and desire had been too great to ignore them. She deserved the relief and you did not see anything bad about it.

“How many times do we have to do this?” You sighed and lied next to her in her bed. Your fingertips caressed her sides and your lips attached themselves to the crook of her neck, smelling all the scented oils in her hair. She was The Queen of the Realm and she was pampered like no other Lady. “There is no shame in this.”

“There is a sin,” Alicent turned her head around to finally meet your gaze. She raised her hand to nervously play with the seven-pointed star pendant on her sweaty chest.

“Why?” You bit on your lip and caressed her auburn locks out of her face.

“It is betrayal,” she frowned as if she was getting frustrated with your lack of understanding.

“It would have been if you lied with a man,” you explained and kissed her cheek before laying on your back and staring at the ceiling.

“I should find your vague idea of morality perplexing,” Alicent pointed out and you couldn’t help but chuckle at her confession.

“But you do not and thank Gods for that,” you rolled your eyes with a smirk.

A silence occurred as Alicent kept playing nervously with the pendant between her fingers and you were staring at the ceiling and counting all the cracks.

“What kind of husband is my brother?” She asked suddenly and you turned your head around to look at her again.

“A good one,” you admitted, feeling nearly guilty for that because you knew why she was asking – her husband was not good. Not to her and not to her children.

“Why are you doing this then?” Alicent asked.

It was obvious why her brother was on her mind now. He would arrive at King's Landing any day now. You couldn’t wait to see Gwayne again after a few months of being apart and you only wished he had taken your son with him but he could not. Robyn was the eldest son and he was supposed to stay in Oldtown. He had just become a squire and leaving his knight for a few long weeks would not be advised, therefore you had to go on missing your boy. Day after day as if he was a burning hole in your chest. Mothers would always miss their sons, you assumed.

“To kill the time,” you shrugged your arms, not wanting to reveal how much Alicent meant to you and for how long. “And to help you. You are my friend and I love you,” you confessed.

Alicent always loved Princess Rhaenyra more. Your father was a Master of Coin in King Viserys’ Small Council and you were growing up together – three girls running around happily. Or rather – two girls following the Princess like two overjoyed puppies. Rhaenyra was the centre of everything for you and not only because she was the Princess but also because she meant everything to Alicent. No matter how much effort you were putting into making Alicent like you more, you were destined to fail for she always was choosing Rhaenyra over you.

It made you grow bitter towards The Princess but never towards Alicent. You were blaming yourself – you had to become more and try harder perhaps and maybe then you’d earn more than just leftover crumbs of her love and friendship.

You couldn’t understand your feelings back then – why was the attraction so strong, what was making you feel so attached to the young Hightower Lady. You were the same age and yet everything she said was like a command to you. Wherever she went, you followed. Even when you felt like a burden because she so clearly would rather be left alone with Rhaenyra. But Rhaenyra never minded your presence because to her you were only a pawn on the board, an ornament, an addition of no importance. So, you often witnessed the two girls laughing together, whispering, exchanging small gestures of affection. You were only watching. Observing as your heart ached.

During The Heir's Tournament you met Ser Gwayne Hightower, Alicent’s older brother. He was young then, eager to show off his abilities and make his family proud. Perhaps he did not have his sister’s big brown eyes but he had the auburn hair you loved so much about her and he had her softness about him. You were enamoured with him in no time and when he approached the royal box to greet his sister – he caught your eye and you caught his and for that moment when your eyes met, you felt butterflies all over your body.

Ser Gwayne Hightower received your favour on that day and the sparkles of joy in your eyes while you were throwing the wreath at him were very obvious to your father and to his as well. You could not know that then but they exchanged meaningful looks for a short moment.

Even though Gwayne lost the duel with Prince Daemon Targaryen, he did not lose your affection. In fact, witnessing him nearly winning and losing only because Prince Daemon chose to play dirty – it only solidified your feelings. Ser Gwayne was a righteous man, a chivalrous knight and a brave one, too. It took lots of courage to face Prince Daemon Targaryen himself.

Gwayne was carried away with his face covered in blood and dirt while his mind was filled with thoughts of you – of losing your favour and your interest. However, you hurried to his side right after the tournament ended to make sure he was fine. And at the sight of you – he truly was fine again.

You were only ten and five but you knew already that Ser Gwayne was the only man you could see yourself being married off to. Thankfully, your father saw that, too. Two years later you were sent to Oldtown and for the whole time in between you were exchanging letters. When Alicent was married off to King Viserys shortly after his wife’s death, you still felt bitter but not as much as you could because you mostly felt excited about your own upcoming wedding.

However, the sadness and anxiety on Alicent’s face on her wedding day were a sight you would never forget.

Years and years of the happy marriage had passed and you were still in touch with your sister-in-law because of the letters you were exchanging and her son that you and Gwayne were raising in Oldtown – Prince Daeron Targaryen. But other than that, you had your own life now to live, your own duties, your own offspring and Alicent was simply not occupying your mind as much as in your adolescent years.

You were aware of King Viserys’ health getting worse and worse as Alicent was ruling the Kingdom in his name. The burden of responsibility was heavy and her marriage was getting more and more difficult. You couldn’t say the same of your own union – you loved Gwayne and he loved you. Just like every married couple you had your misunderstandings and disagreements but you were grateful for him every day of your life and you knew well that he felt the same towards you.

It was after breakfast on one of those days that seemed to be pretty typical in the morning and then they turned out to be life-changing for a person. Without a warning and without an ominous feeling deep in one’s gut, they just happened and changed lives.

A letter came to you from Queen Alicent and you expected nothing of great importance in it so you put it below the pile of letters you had to respond to this morning. You sat by your desk and dipped the feather in the black ink as you started to perform one of your duties as Lady Hightower, helping your husband to run Oldtown in his father’s name.

Letter after letter, until finally you were left with the last one. You opened it with a small yawn, which turned into a frown after reading Alicent’s plea and request.

“What is it?” Gwayne entered your chambers this very moment but his smile dropped at the sight of your face.

You folded the letter suddenly as if it was a secret or something dirty but it only increased your husband’s curiosity as he approached the table and raised an eyebrow at you.

“What is it?” He repeated the question and you pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to find the right words.

“It is from your sister,” you replied and looked up to meet his confused gaze. He knew about your friendship and for you to react this way at one of Alicent’s letters was simply unusual.

“Is he dead?” Was all Gwayne asked.

“No, Gods, no,” you shook your head and took a deep breath in. “Not yet,” you added.

“What is it then?” Gwayne lifted your chin up gently to make sure your eyes would still be on his. You swallowed a lump in your throat and finally decided to tell him what his sister had requested.

“Queen Alicent wishes for me to become one of her ladies-in-waiting,” you revealed and Gwayne’s confusion only grew. “She feels lonely in King’s Landing, she needs a friend by her side. Somebody she can trust.”

“It is out of the question,” Gwayne took the folded paper from your hands and read the letter himself, still standing above you as you nervously fidgeted with your fingers.

Your own feelings were chaotic at that moment. Something in your heart wanted to run to King’s Landing at this very moment because Alicent needed you and because you wanted to make her life easier and make her happy. You had always wanted nothing but her happiness.

But you had your own duties in Oldtown and you had your husband here and your children. You could not just leave like that, could you? Especially when Oldtown was so far away from King’s Landing.

“It is out of the question,” Gwayne said again and threw the letter on your desk. “Reply to her that your Lord Husband does not agree.”

“She is your sister,” you looked up at him, pleadingly.

“Yes and I have nothing but love for her in my heart but her request is selfish,” he clenched his jaw as he looked you up and down, visibly surprised that you were not agreeing with him on this. “Why does she want to take you away from me? You are my wife.”

“Your wife – not your property,” you reminded him.

“That is debatable,” Gwayne huffed and looked away but before you could scold him, he continued with more. “Living in a different city, different castle, so far away from me… Will you still be my wife?” He turned his head around in an attempt to try to read your emotions.

“I will forever be your wife,” you stood up and took his hand into yours before placing it on your chest where your heart was. “But she needs me, Gwayne. She’s all alone there with no one by her side.”

“Father is with her,” Gwayne interrupted you. “He always favoured Alicent.”

“You do know that being favoured by him is a burden, not a prize,” you reminded. “Please, let me go. For some time at least. Until The King dies. It should not be for long and I’ll take the girls with me,” you tried to convince him as your fingers caressed his hand on your chest. “Please,” you whispered, looking up deep into his eyes.

After a long moment of silence and hesitation, your husband nodded his head reluctantly.

A few months later, you found yourself standing in the courtyard of The Red Keep, awaiting your husband’s arrival. He had a business to deal with in The Crownlands and he wanted to spend a few days with his family, too. You were caressing the creases on your dress with your hands and your teenage daughter Margaery was fixing her younger sister’s hairdo. Little Wyllow had been missing her father the most and she couldn’t wait for his arrival. In fact, she had made you and Margaery wait there since early morning and at this point you were exhausted already but you didn’t complain since you couldn’t wait to see Gwayne again either.

Even though it also felt a little weird and awkward since your mind was being flooded with memories of his sister’s body tangled with yours underneath her royal silk sheets. Her plump lips parted and soft moans escaping them, her beautiful big brown eyes hazy and filled with tears of shame and pleasure…

You were trying to shake those thoughts and images off of your head when you were interrupted by the sound of the horses approaching the gate.

“Father!” Wyllow nearly ran straight under the horse if she was not stopped by Margaery.

Your older daughter gave you a scolding look and she was right to do so because it was your duty to watch over your children, meanwhile you were distracted by the memories of dirty acts instead.

When you watched Gwayne jumping off of the horse, your heart clenched in your chest at the sight of him and you suddenly realised why Alicent was so filled with shame and guilt because now you felt them, too.

His handsome face, his eyes sparkling at the sight of you, his auburn hair reflecting in the sun… He truly was the man you loved. You just couldn’t help the fact you loved his sister, too.

“Father!” Wyllow finally was free to run into his arms and he crouched down to hug her and kiss her forehead.

“I am so happy to see you, little bird,” Gwayne cupped his daughter’s cheeks and she giggled.

He straightened himself but Wyllow clinged to his left hand so he used his right one to caress Margaery’s face lovingly.

“You’re growing fast, my love,” he pointed out.

“I am trying my best, Lord Father,” Margaery nodded her head with a smile and then she took a step back to get out of the way and let him greet you.

“Lord Husband,” you gave him a nervous and soft smile. Gwayne tilted his head a little and your heart skipped a beat. He was a very observant man but there was nothing that would give you away, right? What could it be?

“Lady Wife,” he smiled at you and took two steps ahead to be able to kiss the palm of your hand. Whatever he had noticed, he pretended it was nothing. At least for now.

“You must be exhausted,” you pointed out. “The chambers have been already prepared for you and I’m going to tell the maids to fix you a bath.”

“Does it mean we are not sharing the same chambers during my stay here?” Gwayne raised an eyebrow at you.

Margaery cleared her throat and she took Wyllow by her free hand.

“Shall we go inside now? Let our Lady Mother greet Lord Father properly,” she dragged her protesting sister behind her.

“She is becoming a fine Lady,” you chuckled awkwardly. “I can’t help feeling that the air and water in King’s Landing are making her grow up faster. Perhaps she is spending too much time with women older than her,” you explained, clasping your hands in front of yourself as if you had no idea what to do with them. “Come with me, I am sure you want to greet your father and sister, too.”

“I do,” Gwayne followed you inside while some of the men he had taken with him were taking care of his luggage with the help of The Red Keep’s servants. “You still haven’t answered my question about the chambers,” he pointed out when you were in the staircase together.

“My darling,” you turned around abruptly, making him stop his walk. “Your chambers are close to mine, please do not get cross with me. Those past few months I have learnt to love my solitude,” you explained and Gwayne tilted his head again but he only nodded.

“Let it be then,” he only said.

With each one of your husband’s kisses and each one of his touches, each one of your reached peaks and cries of pleasure, you felt more and more purified of sin as if his body was washing away Alicent’s smell off of you. After months of not laying together, you were lost in each other for hours with caring very little about getting any sleep. You were watching the sun rise behind the window when you were too exhausted to go on as you were laying on Gwayne’s chest, drawing circles there with your fingers and his hand was playing with your hair, gently massaging your scalp.

“Have you been faithful to me?” You asked casually and you could feel his muscles tensing under you.

You had no right to ask that – but he did not know of it.

“I have,” he answered. “Of course I have.”

“And if I say that the whores count, too?” You looked up playfully.

“I have been faithful to my Lady Wife,” Gwayne shook his head and you spotted a slight irritation on his face. He did not like it when his honour was being questioned – he was a knight, after all. “Why do you ask? Have you not been faithful to me?”

A shiver went down your spine at his chilling accusation.

“How can you ask me that?” You gasped.

“You have accused me first.”

“Because you are a man,” you reminded him.

“I am. And I know what men are like,” Gwayne nodded his head. “They must all be following you around – a beautiful Lady far away from her husband is like an invitation,” he finally cracked a smile, revealing that he was only jesting.

“I do not want any man but you,” you assured him as the tension left your body because you did not have to lie about it.

“That is good to know, my love,” Gwayne kissed the top of your head. “You had me worried with your cold greeting and not letting me into your chambers.”

“Are you not in my chambers now, Lord Husband?” You teased him and placed a kiss on his chest where his heart was. “And if my greeting was cold, then I owe you an apology. I spend too much time around your sister and her husband and I keep forgetting that some marriages are happy. That mine is…” You wanted to look up to meet his gaze but you couldn’t as something inside of you was stopping you.

“That is a shame,” Gwayne only said.

“It is, darling, but you are here now to remind me.”

You were sitting in the same chambers as Alicent, embroidering side by side and even though you were using no words, you found each other’s company comforting. Your arms were brushing as you both were focused on creating beautiful patterns on the same piece of fabric to make the work faster. It was supposed to be a beautiful green blanket with embroidered little dragons.

Princess Helaena was sitting nearby and embroidering spiders on her own piece of fabric. Her cousin, Lady Margaery Hightower was sitting next to her and teaching her younger sister the craft. It was peaceful, cosy and quiet – you loved those moments the most because it was nearly as if Alicent was your own Lady Wife and you were just enjoying the time spent together with your family, far away from all those loud and obnoxious men surrounding you everywhere. These chambers were your escape and your own queendom.

When the doors opened, everyone except for Helaena looked up with a slight irritation since the man entering this sanctuary was nothing but an intruder. Even if the man was Ser Gwayne Hightower, who was loved by every person inside the chambers.

He cleared his throat when you gave him a soft smile, your arm still brushing Alicent’s and you were sitting in a way that made sure you were facing each other. You had never thought about it before but it was quite intimate indeed. Your husband’s tilted head made you realise that he had just observed something and after a short while you understood what it was as you moved away slightly.

“Brother,” Alicent greeted him.

“Lord Husband,” you nodded at him.

“Forgive me for interrupting. I would like to take Margaery for a walk around the gardens,” he extended his hand towards his older daughter as Wyllow looked up at him with pleading eyes. “It must be Margaery alone this time but I promise you, little bird, I am going to take you for a walk later, too. Perhaps we’ll walk to the bay and watch the ships,” he assured her and she sighed with relief.

“You can finish without my help now, I believe,” Margaery handed the fabric to her younger sister. “Do try, at least. If you face any challenges, Lady Mother or Helaena shall help you.”

Helaena looked up when her name was mentioned and she gave Wyllow a soft smile that encouraged her little cousin to keep going. When Margaery stood up and left the sofa, Wyllow moved closer to Helaena and The Princess did not seem to mind.

“Can you help me with the ladybug?” She asked and Helaena’s face lit up at that.

“Lord Father,” Margaery took Gwayne by his arm and bowed her head at you and Alicent before walking out of the chambers with her father.

“I am wondering what is the matter my Lord Husband wishes to discuss with Margaery,” you hummed to yourself.

“She is ten and five now,” Queen Alicent pointed out. “What is the only possible matter that fathers wish to discuss with their daughters at that age?”

You furrowed your brows at her words because she was right and you did not like the sound of that. It was a shame that she was right, too, and not only for your own daughter but for every woman in this Realm.

You saw Gwayne again before dinner, on your way to the dining hall. He was walking down the stairs and you rushed to him to walk by his side. He offered you his arm and you took it.

“I have a question for you, Lord Husband,” you started, nearly aggressively and he raised his eyebrows at that fierceness.

“What is it, my love?”

“Are you planning to marry our sweet Margaery off so quickly? I do not wish for her to get wed too soon,” you told him, hoping he would understand your point of view because sadly, in the end, the decision was his to make for women had always been properties of men – once her father’s, then her husband’s.

Sometimes you wished you had become a septa.

“Not soon, no. But she is ten and five. That was the age you were in when we met,” Gwayne reminded you with a smile.

“Yes, indeed, my darling, but it was us both meeting and falling in love. That is different, you must admit,” you pursed your lips.

“I must, indeed. Do not worry, I am not willing to force anything upon our sweet daughter. I have only told her to start looking around for suitable matches… soon,” your husband explained. “I am sure King’s Landing is full of important young men.”

“I do not wish for her to get married here. This place is rotten and so are its people,” you sighed. “My greatest wish is for Margaery to marry a man from The Reach.”

“We all have wishes, my darling wife,” Gwayne’s answer was nearly mocking but he spotted your annoyance so he looked around to make sure you were not being seen before pulling you by your waist and pushing you against the wall to steal a kiss from your lips. “Gods, I missed this,” he whispered and you felt your cheeks heating up.

“Gwayne!” You scolded him playfully. “I missed this, too,” you added and caressed his cheek with your fingers.

But his smile dropped and eyes became serious all of the sudden. You stayed like that in a short moment of silence before he dropped the question that turned your guts inside out:

“What is the nature of your relationship with my sister?”

You were taken aback by his question and you moved your hand away from his face before taking a deep breath in, trying to steady your heartbeat.

“Alicent is my best friend,” you looked deep into his eyes, surprised by your own courage to lie like this…

But was it a lie? She was your friend, after all.

“There is intimacy between you two that I can only wish for between us these days,” Gwayne whispered and you bit on your lower lip.

“She is my main companion for weeks now,” you tried to explain.

“Are you still planning to come back home after The King dies?” Gwayne lowered his voice even more since talking about the monarch’s death could be seen as treason.

“Y-yes, of course,” you nodded nervously.

“Why the tremble of your voice?” Gwayne raised an eyebrow.

“What are you accusing me of?” You suddenly clenched your fists, trying to take another route of getting out of this awkward situation. “Your implications are indecent. You have been accusing me of obscenities ever since you arrived here. You wound me deeply, Lord Husband,” you straightened yourself.

“You have accused me first,” Gwayne reminded you.

“Without any reproach thrown at you. I have asked out of simple curiosity,” you informed him.

“You are right, do forgive me,” he reached for your hand to place a delicate kiss upon the palm of it. You sighed, feeling extremely guilty.

“You are forgiven,” you whispered, nearly inaudibly, because it felt wrong to be the one saying those words.

In fact, at that very moment, you promised yourself to fix everything. You promised yourself to invite Gwayne to your chambers again for the night and let his touch to purify you like on the previous night. And you would go to The Sept and you would pray the sin away, you would beg for forgiveness, you would be a better wife, perhaps you would beg Alicent to let you go back to Oldtown with your husband.

Yes, that was the plan.

In the early morning you couldn’t tell that you were well-rested. Your muscles were sore after the previous two nights and your head was hazy but you still got dressed up quickly when the sun was rising and creeping inside your chambers to shine upon Gwayne’s auburn hair. You leaned in to kiss his forehead and you left him sleeping to visit The Sept and be able to go back to The Red Keep before breakfast.

You had never been a devout but you were not a savage either. You believed in Gods and now more than ever you needed redemption.

You expected to be alone there at such an early hour but no – of course not. Queen Alicent was already there, kneeling by the stone table and lighting the candles. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in. She was your greatest temptation and it was a cruel joke that the Gods had played on you to put her there at this time when you visited The Sept to pray her very own self away from your life.

Alicent looked up, surprised to see you. Her soft features were as sad as usual but at the sight of you she seemed to be a bit happier – relieved, in a way. Your heart clenched inside your chest. How could you ever want to leave her? You couldn’t. She was too dependent on you. Her happiness was and so was her sanity. Leaving her would be equal to killing her.

“I have not expected you in The Sept at such an early hour,” she commented as you kneeled next to her.

“I have not expected myself here either,” you smirked. “I came here to ask for forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness? Aren’t you always the one telling me that what we do is no sin?” Alicent furrowed her brows.

“I have lied to my husband. That is a sin,” you confessed and Alicent did not say anything to this. “I… I will have to go back to Oldtown, I think… I can’t… I can’t go on like this,” you looked down and Alicent remained silent but you didn’t have to look at her to know her big brown eyes were filled with tears. “I miss my son and I miss Oldtown… King’s Landing is corrupt and I do not wish for my daughters to grow up here. I… I miss Gwayne, too. I love him, I love him, I love him…”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Sudden, harsh question made you look up to meet her teary gaze.

“I’ve been loving him ever since I saw him during the tournament. You were there, sitting by my side,” you reminded her.

“You love him because he is my brother but your life has always revolved around me,” Alicent pointed out and you felt your cheeks heating up.

“You… You knew?” You only asked.

“I was blind to choose Rhaenyra because she was never for me to reach. She was The Princess and you were equal to me, so devoted. Blindly, very often. I took you for a fool and only after losing you, I realised. When you were sent to Oldtown, I suddenly understood that my only friend had left my side,” Alicent explained. “My only friend and the only person who has ever… Who has ever loved me – except for my mother.”

“Gwayne loves you, too,” you pointed out.

“Does he? He took you away from me,” Alicent’s jaw clenched and your eyes widened. She was not being rational but you knew why – she was scared of losing you again. In fact, she was determined to make you stay by her side.

“You will not let me leave, will you?” You whispered.

Alicent opened her mouth to say something but then her face softened and she stood up rapidly to walk away.

“I am sorry… I do not wish to… Act like this… I do not recognise myself,” she admitted with her voice full of shame. She raised her hands up to her mouth as she nervously bit on the soft skin around her fingernails.

You didn’t answer because you were too lost in your own thoughts. Was she right again? About you loving Gwayne only because he was her brother? You had never thought about it before. It would mean your whole marriage was a lie, an illusion – or rather a delusion.

“When I’m with him, I don’t imagine you,” you stood up as well when the realisation hit you. “But when I’m with you, he doesn’t exist to me. It’s as if there were two of me.”

“I do not understand,” Alicent shook her head. “To me, there is only you,” she confessed and laid her eyes on you.

You didn’t know what to answer. You swallowed a lump in your throat instead.

“I am flawed, poisoned…” Alicent continued. “I can only feel this way towards other women. I felt this way towards Rhaenyra until a certain moment and then… Then my whole life was about you. I have spent hours inside this Sept, trying to pray this away,” Alicent’s silent tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I do not have such a conflict. I can love both men and women,” you told her. “I can love you and I can love Gwayne…”

“I do not wish to share you!” Alicent interrupted you and then she hid her face in her hand as she sobbed.

“Women are not their own property. I am not the one to decide if I can be shared,” you answered diplomatically.

You felt sorry for her but you also felt sorry for Gwayne that he was being betrayed behind his back by his own wife and sister – two women he loved the most except for his daughters. He would die for you both, he would kill to protect you or to defend your honours – even though none of you had an honour anymore. He was the real victim here.

But one more look at Alicent’s sad eyes was enough to break you again. You approached her to cup her face and kiss her softly. She protested in the beginning since you were inside The Sept but you didn’t give a fuck about it anymore – you would go to Seven Hells anyway.

“I shall not leave you,” you promised her.

When you came back to your chambers, Gwayne was dressing up in front of the mirror. He raised an eyebrow at you entering the room.

“Where have you been?” He asked.

“In The Sept to pray,” you answered truthfully.

“Has my sister turned you into a devout like her already?” He chuckled.

“She has a great influence on me,” you nodded and walked up to him to kiss his cheek.

“You even smell like her,” he said and your heart skipped a beat.

“I am fond of her scented oils and she allows me to use them,” you answered.

“It feels weird when I’m fucking you, I have to admit,” Gwayne chuckled awkwardly and so did you.

“You shall fuck me more then,” you pointed out quietly.

“Even more, Lady Wife?” He shook his head with another chuckle.

“Until her scent is gone,” you explained and looked out of the window.

Gwayne did not say anything to this but his smile disappeared. From the corner of your eye you saw his reflection in the mirror and you realised that he had finally understood what was going on behind his back.

After a while, which felt like forever, he cleared his throat:

“It is a putrid place indeed.”

“You must take me far away from here,” you turned around to grab his arm and your heart broke when you felt him flinch a little. “You must save my soul and take me home,” you pleaded despite the promise you had given to Alicent earlier but that promise had not been given sober. You had been intoxicated with her.

“You must come back home yourself, my love,” Gwayne smiled sadly at you and caressed your hair gently, “for I do not wish to force anything upon you. You are always kind enough to remind me that you are not my property, aren't you? And I agree,” he nodded, “this decision is for you to make.”

And you didn’t know what to say or do because there was no decision that felt right and no decision that didn’t feel wrong either. Gwayne was your duty and your sacrifice and Alicent was a self-indulgent sin but you loved them both so much that you cursed the whole Hightower bloodline for existing because your life would be so much easier without them.

You knew what Gwayne was expecting of you – he expected you to choose your duty because – just like his sister – he was all about honour and decency. But you didn’t want your husband to feel as if you were choosing him only because of your marriage vows – you wanted him to know that you cared for him, too, even though he wouldn’t believe you now.

But there was only one choice for you anyway, wasn’t it? You couldn’t just stay with Alicent and pretend that it was the right thing to do. You couldn’t abandon your family and your duties for her and she had to understand it.

You looked deep into Gwayne’s eyes and your own filled with tears at the sight of all the pain and sadness in his. You dropped your hand down from his arm to intertwine your fingers with his.

“I do not think of myself as flawed or poisoned for feeling the way I feel,” you explained to him. “But I do not wish for my nature to spoil our union. If anybody can save me, it would be you,” you whispered. A plea. A desperate cry for help. “I am a mother, I am a wife, I am Lady Hightower and my home is in Oldtown.”

Your heart, however, would forever be divided; torn and bleeding. The deep, burning hole was forever to stay there for one reason or another.

MASTERLIST

#gwayne hightower x reader #alicent hightower x reader #lilysfiction

486 notes · View notes

scarlet-star-witch · 3 months ago

Note

yay... can you write one where you've heard all the nasty rumours about the Targaryens, especially how cruel they can be sometimes, but Aemond proves you wrong. He is sweet, kind, and compassionate towards you. You know he's not like that around other people, so you ask him why he acts different towards you.

Hope you like the request.

This took way too long for me write, but I hope this is what you were looking for!

Warnings: implied smut and a whole lotta fluff

WC: 3.2 K

They say the Gods flip a coin when a Targaryen is born. Greatness or madness were the destinies that followed the otherworldly family.

Closer to Gods than men, they would say. Quick to anger, that burned hotly, destroying those in its ruthless path.

That was all she knew of the Targaryen family.

It was the only warning she had before she was shipped off to King’s Landing to marry the one-eyed prince.

She knew nothing of her betrothed except for his reputation that gleamed nothing but anger and a fiercely cold nature. She didn’t want to listen to rumors, but she couldn’t help but feel apprehensive to meet the man of mystery that was Prince Aemond.

The night they first met, she had approached the table of royals, curtseying politely, her heart racing as she met the gaze of her betrothed for the first time.

She smiled, hoping to start off on the right foot, but his expression never changed, beholding her as if bored, as if unmoved by the knowledge that she would soon be his wife. His disinterest seemed to confirm every fear she had. It left her shaken, the picture of a terrified woman at the altar who could barely meet the gaze of her new husband.

The night of their wedding, she was terrified, practically trembling as he took her to bed.

She had shut her eyes and prayed for the seconds to pass quickly.

It had been awkward, stifling and uncomfortable, but it wasn’t awful. The pain was momentary and he didn’t take her like a mindless beast who only sought his own pleasure as she had been warned some men were known to act by her kind maids.

Aemond only ever had gentle touches to give her.

It was by no means the passionate love she had read about in books she hid from her mother, but she was at least grateful she bore no marks from a husband who only had anger to bestow upon her.

Over the months together, they didn’t spare many words for each other.

The Prince was polite and cordial, but their conversations never went any deeper than small talk that amounted to nothing important.

She often found herself wondering if he even tolerated her, let alone liked her, but as the weeks passed and he stayed by her side, lingering in their chambers together, joining her for walks in the garden, did she begin to soften her opinion of him, no longer fearing his presence as she had in the beginning.

Almost daily, she would spot him, his face impassive, almost hardened, but the moment he saw her his expression would lighten, a small smile growing as he approached her.

He would always greet her politely and offer her his arm.

“Tell me about your home.” He asked her out of the blue one afternoon as they lounged under the shade of the Weirwood tree.

She looked to her husband nervously, feeling exposed under his gaze that portrayed an undeniable curiosity.

“What would you like to know?”

“Anything you would like to tell me.” He answered with a smile that brought one to her own lips. “I will gladly take anything you are willing to give me.”

Her breath caught in her throat, surprised by his words, so brazen, so unlike the man she had thought him to be.

Before she could speak again, Ser Criston approached the pair and she watched as Aemond’s easy expression shifted so suddenly, his face now drawn tightly into a scowl.

“My Prince, your mother is expecting your presence in her solar.” Ser Criston reminded him.

Aemond barely spared a moment of attention to the Knight, his hand squeezing hers as if in apology for the interruption of their time together.

“She will have to wait, Ser Crsiton. I am with my wife.”

She knew that was a moment she would not soon forget, for it was the first time she felt as though her husband cared for her, the first time she realized he didn’t loathe their arrangement.

There were moments, too many to count now, when she couldn’t help but wonder if he longed to be closer as she would feel his gaze on her, seeking her out no matter where they were.

At every festivity, in the midst of crowds and countless lords pushing their way to bestow well wishes onto the royal family, it never failed that she always found Aemond’s eye, his attention focused solely on her.

Her favorite would be the moments of quiet connection in the solace of their chambers. Her eyes would wander from the book she read to land on him, barely catching a glimpse of his face before he would quickly look away from her, as if not wanting to get caught admiring his own wife.

It always left her breathless in ways she couldn’t explain, in ways she couldn’t make sense of.

Despite the slowly growing bond, she felt lonely in her new home without her family, without a great love to lean on.

Music was her only escape from the isolation. She often found herself in the grand hall, hours before the festivities were to start, dodging the servants that readied the tables, just to hear the musicians practice.

They always spotted her and, as the months dragged on, no longer looked at her in annoyance, but would smile politely and play, as if just for her, enjoying their one woman audience who seemed to hold onto every note as if it meant the world to her.

They indulged her in the many questions she asked about their music and their instruments, letting her have her moment of reprieve.

At every feast, as she sat by her husband’s side, her gaze would remain on the band, admiring their work others in the room steadfastly ignored

One night, as she took in the music with tranquility, a gentle hand lay over her own, startling her out of her daze. She looked over at her husband with wide eyes, confused yet surprised by the gesture.

“Would you like to dance?”

She froze for a moment, taken aback by his question, but finally nodded, too surprised to answer with words.

He took her hand in his, his touch soft, as if she were made of glass, as he guided her to the floor with the other dancing couples.

They faced each other and Aemond wasted no time in laying his hand on her waist, bringing her in closer to him.

She felt nerves creep through her as they danced. She could feel his eye on her as they twirled, as he brought her back into his arms, as he held her close.

Finally gaining the courage to meet his gaze, she found his eye held nothing but light, a look of contentment watching her carefully.

A flutter unfurled in her chest, a feeling she had never felt before. The way he looked at her made her cheeks heat and she could’ve sworn she saw him smile, as if he knew what he was doing to her.

She couldn’t help but wonder if his touch was supposed to make her feel so cared for, if he knew it was making her melt.

A part of her desperately hoped he did.

Aemond had been ready to write her off completely, to resign himself to the fact that he was to marry a spoiled girl who would cower at the sight of him.

He’d had enough of meeting Ladies who flinched or outright winced at the sight of him and his scar, that whispered they could never lay with, let alone marry, a man with such a deformity.

But the moment he met her, as she met his gaze with little hesitation, as she smiled his way, a gleam of hope in her eyes, did he feel as though his entire world tilted on its axis.

It wasn’t until her smile faltered, her eyes averting from his shyly that he realized he hadn’t returned her smile, had only stared back at her as if disinterested.

He had cursed to himself, close to letting Aegon smack him for being so hopeless.

He could plainly see her fear on the day of the wedding, had whispered apologies he didn’t think she heard as he took her to bed for the first time, had tried his best to assuage her nerves, yet he knew it was because of him, because of that first damned look that he ruined everything before it even began.

He longed to reach out to her, to apologize for his abysmal first impression, but he found he couldn’t muster the words, or the courage.

So he settled for admiring her from afar, entirely discontented by the distance but unsure of how to bridge it.

He spent his days with her, his mind torturously blank, no words coming to him to at least try to begin a bond with her, his sweet wife that never looked at him as though he was a deformed monster as the other ladies in the Keep had.

He had no idea how, or that he was even capable of such a connection, but he couldn’t help but feel lighter in her presence. Knowing such a sweet woman who never had a harsh word to say about anyone, especially him, left him longing to bestow every praise and sweet nothing upon her.

He never considered himself to be swayed by such romantic ideals, but whenever he was face to face with his wife, he found himself wishing he had spent more time perusing through the books of poetry in the library rather than the history tomes.

He wished he had the words to tell her how absolutely magical he found her, how her smile lit any room she was in, how he wished he could bathe in her warmth, how much he appreciated that she looked at him so differently than any other lady in the court had.

He found himself seeking her out any time he was not with her.

“Have you seen my wife?” He asked a member of the White Cloaks, becoming desperate after having no luck finding her in the gardens or with Helaena or his mother.

“There is a feast tonight. Your Lady wife is known to spend time watching the musicians practice. My best guess would be to look for her there.”

Aemond’s brows furrowed at the answer.

“The musicians?”

“Yes, my Prince. She seems quite fond of them.”

His stomach twisted at the realization there was something his wife was so obviously delighted by that he had no idea of and he quickly made his way towards the great hall, spotting, not his wife, but a group of musicians assembling their instruments.

“My Prince.” The lead conductor bowed to him politely when he noticed his presence. “I am glad to see you, we were just discussing your Lady wife and we would appreciate if you would speak to her about her presence here as we prac-”

“You will allow her to watch.” Aemond interrupted the man, looking at him sternly, as if daring the man to defy him. “You will indulge her with your practice. You will answer any question she poses and if she deems it a want, you will let her play your damn instruments.”

After his warning, he began to watch his wife, smiling to himself as he noticed the look of delight in her gaze as she watched the musicians perform.

It took weeks to build the courage, but one night as the band played and she watched with eagerness, he asked her to dance for the first time since their wedding.

That night, he had never felt so nervous as he danced with her, but he felt closer to her than ever before.

That night, she seemed to feel it too as she looked at him with a desire he had never seen from her before as they retreated to their chambers for the night.

That night, he made love to her. He touched her so softly, reveling in her beautiful moans and cries of his name. He felt as though he was a God as she felt her touch on him, as he felt the sting of her nails in his back as he thrusted into her with a desperation so unknown to him.

It was the first time they felt so connected to each other.

As they lay with each other, their hearts slowing their rhythm from their peaks, he held her in his arms, not yet ready to lose the feel of her touch just yet.

“Tell me about the music.” He asked softly.

She laughed softly, the sound like heavenly bells to his ears. The knowledge that he had even noticed her infatuation with music was enough to have butterflies unleashed within her.

“My mother used to play the harp. Apparently, when I was a babe, the sound of her harp was the only thing that could calm me down, the only thing that would stop my crying. She would always make up songs to sing me to sleep.” She explained wistfully and he listened to every word.

“Sometimes I feel as though my mind gets too loud. There are too many thoughts that are entirely unhelpful and… I don’t know, it sounds silly, but I think music is the only thing that quiets it, that brings me back down to myself when those thoughts take over.”

“It’s not silly.” He told her earnestly. “I think it’s beautiful to admire something so passionately.”

“I wish I could learn to play myself, but I don’t think I have the patience for it.”

Aemond scoffed, the sound holding nothing but disbelief.

“My sweet wife, you are the most patient person I have ever met in my life. If you can conquer me, you can conquer anything.”

“Have I conquered you?” She asked, looking up at him with a playful challenge, to which he smiled.

“You certainly have.”

She smiled and leaned in closer to his touch, finally feeling as though they were on the same wavelength.

By the next morning, Aemond was gone before she woke.

Her maids helped her get dressed for the morning and they couldn’t help but notice the lovesick smile that adorned her lips.

“You seem quite happy this morning, my Lady.”

She blushed and bowed her head bashfully.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the Prince, would it?” Her maid teased, the group of them laughing as their Lady swatted their hands playfully.

“I have never seen Prince Aemond so smitten before.” One of the younger maids commented. “You seem to have him under a spell, my Lady. I don’t think I had ever seen him smile until you came around.”

“Oh yes, he was always so surly. I was terrified to even pass him in the halls.” They continued as if she were no longer there, not noticing the surprise on her face as they spoke of her husband. “He seems like a different person. He is nothing but a lovesick fool now.”

She felt as though her heart would burst as she listened to their words.

Only a few minutes later, as she was dressed, did her husband return. His smile faltered at the sight of her maids and he seemed to retreat into himself, his cool demeanor shifting into one of discomfort, his body rigid, his nod of acknowledgement stiff.

Her maids giggled to themselves and bid her goodbye before leaving.

Only then did Aemond relax once again, his expression now nothing but one of love as he approached her.

“I have something for you.”

She raised a brow in question as he took a seat next to her.

He then handed her a stack of papers. She didn’t recognize what they were at first, her eyes flitting over the markings over the page, before it suddenly dawned on her.

It was sheet music.

“You said you wished to learn.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. She was stunned to silence, his gesture, so thoughtful, had her floored.

“This is… I don’t know what to say.” She spoke quietly. She looked to her husband and felt so unprepared for the love she would feel for him, in disbelief that the man she had been terrified to marry could make her feel this way.

“What is it?” Aemond asked worriedly, watching as her expression became one of thoughtful contemplation, suddenly fearing he had overstepped in some way.

“Why me?”

The question caught him off guard and his frown deepened, his heart beginning to race as doubt crept through him.

“What do you mean?”

“You do not act this way with anyone else. The maids were practically terrified of you before. You never smile with anyone but me. I don’t understand what is so special about me to have a place in your heart.”

The insecurities came spilling out before she could stop them, leaving her feeling more exposed than she intended and suddenly wishing the ground would swallow her whole.

Aemond’s face shifted, his eye looking at her with a mix of disbelief and sadness. He leaned in close to her, his hand reaching out to cradle her jaw.

“You cannot truly mean that.” He whispered, as if his words had physically hurt him. “Do you really not see how easily you have carved yourself into my heart?”

She didn’t have an answer and merely looked stunned by his words.

He let out a long breath and hesitated, his teeth worrying his bottom lip for a moment before his hand reached out and slowly took his eyepatch off.

She felt as though her breath was stolen from her as she saw the sparkling sapphire in place of his eye.

He watched her carefully and as he saw only awe in her gaze, did he feel as though he could melt into nothing.

He smiled and took her hand, guiding her to the scarred side of his face, laying her palm against his skin.

“I was ridiculed my entire life, looked at as if I were a monster because of what was taken from me the night I claimed Vhagar.” He told her, almost shuddering under her touch as her thumb grazed the edge of his scar.

“You have never once looked at me as though I was less, or that my scar made me someone unlovable.”

Her gaze met his and she was floored by the genuine reverence with which he looked at her.

“That night, I was kicking myself for not returning your smile, but I…” He paused, letting out a small, bashful laugh. “I was too in awe of you to do anything but stare like a fool.”

“You don’t understand what is so special about yourself?” He repeated, a tone of derision in his voice as if it disgusted him to even speak the words aloud. “Darling, you had me bewitched from the very first moment I saw you.”

She let out a laugh, her eyes beginning to brim with tears, his words wrapping around her like the warm embrace of a lover.

He leaned in, his nose brushing against hers.

“I am truly sorry I made you feel as though there was any doubt. I’ll have to try harder to make you realize you are the most special being in this entire castle.”

Her laugh was cut off as he crashed his lips to hers, kissing her with the ferocity of a dragon in love.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fic #aemond targaryen fanfic

358 notes · View notes

darilarostarg · 8 months ago

Text

I'm All Yours

Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

Words: 2.1K

Warnings: SMUT, sex work, fingering, oral (fem receiving), degradation, slight breeding kink, breast slapping, slightly rough sex

Summary: Daemon finds out you have been entertaining other men at the brothel in his absence.

The gold and silver coins made a delightful clink as they hit the bottom of the glass jar. Enough to house and feed yourself for the week, and possibly treat yourself to one new silk. Dreaming about that aqua iridescent silk that hung in the back of the drapery, you began to clear your room for the night, not noticing the dark figure looming in the doorway.

“Thought you could replace me?” Daemon’s voice is low, a scolding expression on his face as you nearly jump out of your skin, almost knocking over the vase of flowers resting on the table you were clearing.

“My Prince!” You try to suppress the smile that inches its way onto your face, but it is not possible. Daemon had quickly laid claim to you all those years ago in Mothers, to the point you were assumed to be reserved for the Prince if he chose to offer his patronage to the brothel at any point. Other men would not approach or ask for your price. You belonged to Daemon Targaryen. Everyone knew it.

Daemon hums in response as he stalks down the few steps into the room and heads in your direction. It had been three years since you had last seen him. A cold night on Dragonstone, when he had put twenty gold dragons in your hand, told you to pack your things and to return to the capital. He would not take you with him to war.

All the thoughts of your last interactions are whipped from your head as Daemon presses up against the wall, evident arousal poking your inner thigh. He smells of wine, and another woman. The quick words that were on the tip of your tongue, die as his hand finds your throat, applying just enough pressure to intervene with your breathing.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He says, pressing a little harder on your neck, looking you directly in the eye, as his hand moves under your skirt and edges it way to your heart. “Have you been replacing me? Hm?”

You nod as well as you can with a hand around your throat. It was true, while the twenty dragons had afforded you to live comfortably for two years without the need to sell your body, but the last year proved difficult and you had made your way back onto the street of silk, and it had been a profitable one. With the Rogue Prince gone at war, men happily paid handfuls of silver and gold for your company.

“Need to give you a reminder on who this cunt belongs to?” Daemon’s large hand finds your cunt, letting two fingers enter your willing hole, while pushing the ball of his palm into your throbbing clit. A small growl leaves his throat as his fingers slip into you, still wet from the hedge knight that had spent the last hour buried in you. Looking up at him, a gentle moan leaving your lips, you nod eagerly.

“How many? Hm? How many men have you let run my perfect cunt?” Daemon taunts, wanting to hear you humiliate yourself for him. He loosens his hand that is gripped around your neck slightly, allowing himself room to start leaving wet kisses just below your ear.

“I- I’m not, not sure.” You answer honestly. It’s not like you keep track, you work until you have enough coins, whether it be one man or six. Daemon tuts are your answer, digging his thick fingers in as deep as he can, instantly finding that spongy sweet spot that no other man can seem to reach, as his palm works your clit at the same time. You begin to clench around him instantly, peak coming in quickly. Daemon, knowing exactly where you are heading, quickly removed his fingers and palm, leaving you with nothing. A small whine leaves your mouth at the loss of contact, your mind focusing on keeping your shaking legs up right.

Daemon’s hand leaves your throat, hand untying the thin lace gown you have, leaving it to pool onto the ground beneath you. His arms quickly hoist you up, carrying you back to the bed, tossing you down as gently as he could muster in the moment. He quickly discards his white tunic and breeches, his naked body leaning over yours, lips attaching to your neck, and hands pawing at your stiff nipples. Your legs wrap about his waist, using your feet to pull him closer to you.

Daemon’s kisses begin to move down your body, lips enveloping your collar bones, nipples, ribs and stomach. He leaves no part of you untasted as he makes his way down, face finally level with you warm and wet heat.

“Such a pretty cunny, just as pretty as the first time you gave her to me,” He hums as his head moves forward, licking a bold stripe to your dripping core, lips locking onto your clit and sucking gently. A gasp leaves you at the instant overstimulation. “Did those other dirty men look after her for me?” He raises his head, looking up at you from between your legs with a glint of mischief in his eyes. Wanting to save yourself from the embarrassment of answering you, buck your hips up to meet his mouth, wanting him to continue, but his arms wrap around your thigh and hands push down on your hips keep you away. “Answer my questions, doru-borto riña. Then you will get your reward.”

“No.” You whine out, the tone of your voice making the heat rush your cheeks.

“They didn’t look after her?” Daemon mocks in a cooing voice, a smirk etched on his face, his thumb lightly rubbing circles on your clit. “Did they neglect my poor cunt? Just used her for their own pleasure?”

You nod, mumbling out confirmation, tears welling up in your eyes. You have waited three years for this moment and the teasing is driving you insane. All you care about is getting him inside you as quickly as possible.

“Poor cunny. We’ll have to fix that won’t we?” His question was answered with a small squeak from you, as Daemon's mouths at your swollen lips, his tongue leaving his lips to poke at your hole, sucking on your clit.Tongue and fingers reaching the spongy parts of you that have you screaming for him. Just when you think it can’t get any better, he is humming into your wet folds and looking up at you with those lilac eyes, forcing you to the edge. Your toes curl and drag up his back as a loaded moan leaves your mouth, Daemon’s name slipping from your lips in babbles. Daemon groans into your cunt, electrifying the aftershocks of your toe-curling height.

“Perfect like always,” Daemon presses a final soft kiss to your clit, causing your hips to jerk, hitting his chest as he crawls his way back up your body, caging up under him. He looms over you, a smile inking its way onto his face, lips and chin still glistening with your arousal. “The hedge cunt that was in here before me. What did he have you do?”

You hesitate for a moment, eyes widening as you realise that Daemon had been in the brothel a lot longer than you thought. His lips are going over your eyes, eyes burning into yours as he waits for your answer.

“Answer me, whore.” Daemon speaks, hand roughly coming down on your breast, demanding an answer, lips reattaching to your neck leaving wet kisses.

“He had me ride him, my prince.” You hummed, one of your hands finding its way into his now cropped hair. He huffs, before rolling off you, lying back beside you, head resting on the plush pillows. His hand reach to your hip, tugging you towards him. You scramble over to him, crawling on-top of him, thighs gently straddling his stomach. Your hands resting on his pecs, you look down at Daemon, biting your lip when his hands find the globes of your ass, kneading the flesh before landing a harsh spank across your left cheek, causing you to jut forward grinding your wet folds along his length.

“Well go on then…show me.” He grunts out, you quickly follow his orders, reaching between your legs to grab his thick cock in your hand, teasing the tip along your entrance before sheathing yourself on him, sliding down slowly until he bottoms out inside of you.

He can feel your walls stretching and fluttering around him, trying to accommodate him. You’re always so good and take all of him like he knows you can. You stay like that for a moment, not moving a inch, trying to control your breathe

“I said g-”

“You’re so much bigger” You whimper. Daemon smirks, as his hands move from your ass to your hips keeping you in place as he bucks his hips up, pulling out to then fully shove himself back into again.

“Did you talk back to that last man that you let fuck you? Hm?.” His voice is condescending. You shake your head, and he tilts his brow down between the two of you, indicating for you to get to work. Quickly, you're fighting the slight burn from the stretch of him and lifting yourself up off of his cock and coming down in a steady rhythm. Daemon looks up at you, amused at your slow rhythm as you attempt fuck yourself on him, the look on his face causing you to grind harder, getting his cock to hit within you deeper, hitting your spot you love with each trust.

“There you go. Did his cock make you feel like this?” Daemon questions, as his hands drift from your hips to play with your bouncing tits for a moment, before moving back to your hips for a moment, gripping them tightly to give himself some leverage to snap his hips up to meet your thrusts. Your walls instantly clamp around him, forcing a groan from his throat.

“No? Only my cock can make this little cunt feel this good.” Daemon grunts, thumb reaching between your thighs to rub your clit and his lips finding one of your nipples sucking harshly. Your hands are softly rubbing his toned chest as you moan his name, fingers lingering on the mangled flesh of his left side, your mouth begging for him to keep on going.

“Only you, only you.” You mumble out and he can feel that you’re close, can feel that at any moment you’re going to spasm on his cock and milk him for all that he’s worth. Suddenly Daemon’s flipping you on your back and roughly pushing your legs up over his shoulders so that it’s easy for him to plunge his cock deep inside you.

“You want my seed, whore? Milk my cock and carry my bastard? Is that what you want?” Your nodding as your hands grasp at his back, any words you hand dying on in your throat when he reaches his thick fingers down to rub quick circles on your clit, walls clamping tightly down on him and tears beginning to well in your eyes. “You need to ask for it.”

“Yes! Please, please fill me with your seed, I want it. Want your bastard in me.” You sound so broken and desperate and it causes Daemon’s balls to tighten as they continue to slap against your ass.

“Take it then.” Your body stiffens to it high and the pleasure is so intense black spots begin to cloud your vision as Daemon fucks you through your high, eventually finding his own as he spills inside of you. He continues to thrust softly as he rides out his own high, eventually coming to a slow stop. He stays loomed over you, your legs still hook around his shoulders as the two of you to catch your breath.

You gently unhook your legs, bringing them down between your bodies, Daemon lowering his body onto yours, his head dropping onto your bare, heaving chest as your hand moves to play with his silver strands. His cock stays nestled within you, among the sticky mess that he both created and left.

“No more other men.” He whispers out. It’s gentle, but you know it is an order. You place a soft kiss to his sweaty forehead, continuing to stroke his soft hair.

“I’m all yours.”

Enjoying writing these little one-shots! Any feedback in the form of likes, reblogs, comments or asks is deeply appreciated!

My masterlist can be found by click here!

You can add yourself to my taglist here!

#daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen imagine #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon #hotd #matt smith #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader

793 notes · View notes

a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 8 months ago

Text

Village: knight!price x princess!reader

A little longer than intended but hope you guys enjoy

"Pardon?"

“I want to go to the village and you’ll be taking me there today.”

Sir John Price blinked owlishly at you. You rarely ever went to the village unless it was for a procession or to speak on behalf of the Queen, and the fact that you asked him instead of taking off on your own caught him off guard as well.

Especially because you met him in the stables wearing a cloak.

He glanced down at the wicker basket with a blanket in your hands before he met your expectant eyes and he sucked in his lips.

"If that's what you wish." He pulled your horse out of the stable and then his.

"It is." You flipped your hood over your head and held out the basket for him to take. "Make sure to tie this securely."

Before long Price walked close behind you as you led the way towards the market. He raised an eyebrow, both because he didn’t understand what you were doing but also because it seemed you weren’t trying to stand out.

“Is there a reason why we’re going to the market, your highness?” He wondered and you gestured for him to keep his voice down. “And why you’re acting inconspicuous?”

“You’ll see.” You told him with a small smile. “And I don’t want much attention today.”

Price hummed and couldn’t help but notice that some of the villagers stared at you both with confusion before recognition spread across their faces, their voices going hushed as they stared at you.

“I doubt you can escape the eyes of your people, your highness.” He mumbled and you frown.

“It’s because of you.” You huffed and he raised an eyebrow. “You stand out, everyone knows you, and knows that I’m around where you are.”

“You asked me to escort you.”

“Because you would’ve made a bigger scene trying to catch up to me.”

You were right and he knew that. Though he found it almost comical that you thought everyone was looking at him rather than you, especially when a few villagers stopped what they were doing to stare.

Price took it upon himself, however, to make sure that none of them interrupted you with a polite nod and smile towards them.

When you made it to the market, you immediately began to peruse the stalls. Fresh produce and other items were laid out in front of you as you began to look for the best out of them.

“I thought the servants had recently bought food for the castle.” Price wondered as you studied the fruit in front of you.

“I wanted something fresher and I was bored.” You shrugged and he scoffed.

He watched you pick out the fruits you wanted and deny the peasant who said you didn’t have to pay. He watched the joy spread across his face when you gave him extra coins for the food before you walked to the next stall with the basket in the crook of your arm.

Price slipped it off your arm and carried it without a second thought. He pointedly stared at the vegetables on the stall as your eyes widened..

“You never answered my question.” He grunted to change the subject. “Why are we here?”

“It’s a surprise. Learn to have a little fun, Sir John.” You chided him when his face fell into a scowl.

“A surprise from you could mean anything, good or bad.”

“Would I ever surprise you with something bad?”

Price gave you a look and the corners of your lips twitched upward. He let out a sigh when you chuckled and prepared for the worst as he continued to follow you.

“It’s a good surprise, you’ll like it.” You assured him.

“I’ll believe you when you tell me.” He grumbled and you rolled your eyes.

“Have you ever met a knight so stubborn?” You joked with a peasant who couldn’t hold in her amusement which made Price scowl even more.

“No, your highness, but that’s what makes him the best.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Price felt his cheeks warm and he clutched the basket a little tighter. He quickly shooed you away from the stall before he embarrassed himself further.

He watched you navigate the market and couldn’t help but think about what you had said the night before the king had been sent away.

Despite his past reservations about you, he knew how the village and your people felt about you. They loved you, adored you, and though they spoke about your lack of engagements or about you not having produced an heir yet, you were still in their good graces. And it was especially true as you treated them kindly and paid them extra for the food you bought from them today.

You thought you were worthless, a failure because of those around you. Because of him…

It plagued his mind and weighed heavy in his stomach. He didn’t like knowing that he had made you feel that way, that he had hurt you.

He hoped you still didn’t think that way about yourself now.

“Your highness,” he began and you hummed for him to continue as the two of you walked back to the horses. “Is what you said that night true?”

You paused and your face fell. You averted your eyes from him as you nervously threaded your fingers together in front of you.

“I had hoped you’d forgotten about that.” You licked your lips. “But…yes. It think about it too often, I fear.”

“I never realized the lords and princes made you feel that way.” A seed of anger bubbled in his stomach.

“How could you? It doesn’t concern you, do I don’t blame you for that.”

“It concerns me because ‘I’ve done the same.”

Your eyes widened and you stared at him with surprise while he found it hard to look at you.

Shame settled within him but he forced himself to push past it. He couldn’t allow it to stop him from making things right and though he was stubborn he could admit when he was wrong or when he had wronged someone.

“I don’t think lowly of you, your highness.” He began softly as he stared deep into your eyes. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been kind to you and it’s hurt you in a way that I wish I could take back. I won’t ask you to forgive me but I can’t allow you to believe that I would think you a failure.”

You couldn’t help the absolute shock on your face as you slowly became more and more flustered as you stared at each other.

He found himself getting flustered as well the longer you stared at him. It was hard being underneath your gaze and when you looked away it was as if he simultaneously could and couldn’t breathe.

“I-I’m sorry your words caught me off guard.” You placed your hands over your heart and let out a nervous chuckle.

“It’s the truth, your highness.” Price stated firmly and you nodded.

“I know.”

He felt a little relieved but still the guilt stayed inside him. He knew it would be a little while before he finally found the courage to let it go.

The silence between the both of you was thick and awkward but you quickly tried to defuse it with a smile that made him nervously suck in his lips.

“You’re very sincere for a knight.” You pointed out and he scoffed.

“I follow a code.” He said and you raised an amused eyebrow as you snorted.

“Do you now? What does it say about being ornery all the time.”

“Unfortunately I can’t change that about myself.. I can hardly lessen it as it is.”

You giggled and he couldn’t help but chuckle as well. You began to walk towards the horses again and he walked beside you.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. Who else would entertain me with banter?”

“Many of the lords and princes of you ask them to.”

You groaned softly and rolled your eyes in a playful manner while you absentmindedly waved the thought away.

“Dreadful isn’t it?” You said and he smiled. “I could tell them to wear a bucket on their head and they would.”

He wasn’t going to deny any of that to you. He had seen so many lords and princes make fools of themselves to get your attention and to please you.

Price has made a fool of himself because of you as well.

“I’m glad I can entertain you, your highness.” Price teased as you made it to the horses.

He tied the basket to the saddle and prepared to help you onto your horse only to be met with you giving him an inquisitive look that made him narrow his eyes.

“Would you wear a bucket on your head if I asked?” You wondered and he puffed out a laugh.

“And subject myself to a life of torment?” He avoided looking at as he checked your saddle.

“But would you?”

Price cleared his throat and gestured to the basket as he gave you an expectant look this time.

“Are you going to tell me what the surprise is or do I have to guess?” He changed the subject and hoped you would as well, which you did.

“It’s a picnic.” You smiled proudly and allowed him to help you onto your horse, his hand tingling from your warmth. “One you will be join game on not only as my protector but as my friend. Call it a peace offering.”

Price wouldn’t deny that the idea made him feel lighter and when he thought about it he couldn’t help but feel his heart race just a little faster.

But he knew how improper it would be if he joined you in a way that was any less than him protecting you, how it might seriously hurt your reputation and how it might cost him more than his title.

“If someone sees…” he began but you shook your head.

“That’s why we’ll be dinning in the forest.” You explained and though it didn’t ease his worries, he knew you were already set on the idea.

Stubborn.

“Now, we must get going or we’ll miss lunch.”

“As you wish, your highness.”

A/n: the answer is he would

Tags: @deadbranch @makayla-666 @glitterypirateduck @dumbbitchgalore @m0chac0ffee @dragonbe-writing @sleepyoriana @twismare @blush-haze @waiting-so-long @rmikaelson01 @panikk-attackkk @sofasoap

#knight!price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price #call of duty #princess!reader

454 notes · View notes

larluce · 5 months ago

Text

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @star-rie , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys , @evadne01 , @serasvictoria02 , @hairdryerducks , @hopeaha , @curiously-lazy , @ harriettesthings , @andrealux16 , @wacko-weirdo , @greatdonutenemy , @yougottobekittenme , @anxiousosaurus , @kinkforwings , @someweirdassnamee , @impracticalantlers

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 , PART 13 , PART 14 , PART 15 , PART 16 , PART 17 , PART 18 , PART 19 , PART 20 , PART 21 , PART 22 (You're here) , PART 23

In "Excalibur"

The black knight arrives as expected. Arthur this time lifts the gauntlet before any other knight can do so, much to Merlin's dismay, but at least he now knows what to do.

Kilgharrah: (watching Merlin arrive) Oh, until you finally deign to see me, young warlock.

Merlin: I'm sorry I didn't answer your calls. Many things happened.

Kilgharrah: (analyzes Merlin and realizes) Another old mind in a young body.

Merlin: (confused) What?

Kilgharrah: You are not from this time, are you young warlock?

Merlin: (sighs) I should have known you'd notice. Look, if you're going to give me the destiny and coin speech, I swear that-

Kilgharrah: I find it useless to talk to you about something you already have very present. However, I'm sure you didn't come here just to greet me. If so you would have come much sooner.

Merlin: (takes out the sword Gwen gave him) Arthur, the Once and the Future King of your prophecy, is going to duel with a wraith. It's not in your best interest for him to die, so I need you to reforge this sword so that Arthur won't die in combat-

Kilgharrah: I'll help you.

Merlin: I remind you that your revenge is with Uther, not with… Wait, you'll help me? 😧

Kilgharrah: You have a very strong argument. I can't deny that.

Merlin: And you won't try to convince me to free you in exchange either?

Kilgharrah: I don't want you to see my help as conditional, young warlock. I imagine that's why you've avoided coming to see me. I'll just ask you one thing. Where you come from, am I free?

Merlin: Yes… (Thinking) After you almost turned Camelot into ashes.

Kilgharrah: That's all I need to know. (Raises the sword towards him with magic) A sword forged with my assistance will have great power.

Merlin: I know.

Kilgharrah: Normally I'd say you can only guess, but in this case I know you are very aware, and yet there's still so much you don't know.

Merlin: I know that in the wrong hands this sword can cause great evil. I won't let that happen.

Kilgharrah: That's not what I meant. (comes closer) Do you know why you and Arthur are two sides of the same coin?

Merlin: (rolls his eyes) Yes, yes, the prophecy. We are the half that makes us whole. Arthur is my destiny. I already know all that. 😒

Kilgharrah: Indeed, but the curious thing about the sides of a coin is that, despite being literally glued together, they never see each other.

Merlin: (tired) I don't have time for this. Are you going to forge the sword or not?

Kilgharrah: (forges the sword) Hear my words, the sword must be wielded by Arthur and him alone. You must promise.

Merlin: I promise.

Kilgharrah: (returns the sword already forged to Merlin with magic)

Merlin: (looking at it wistfully) It's just as I remember it (looks up at Kilgharrah again, smiling) Thank you, Kilgharrah. (leaves)

Kilgharrah: Any time, young warlock. (Thinking) It is when the sides of the coin see each other that tragedies occur.

Time skip. Right after Merlin gave the sword to Arthur and just before he duels the black knight.

Merlin: (finishes putting Arthur his armor on) Ready, sire.

Arthur: (smirking) Won't you give me a hug?

Merlin: What?! 😳

Arthur: For luck, of course.

Merlin: (very red and confused) Since… since when are you so fond of hugs? (thinking) You were never this affectionate before...

Arthur: (opens up) I admit I didn't always like them. Wrong, I always liked them, but, as a prince, I'm not supposed to be affectionate. At least that's what my father always said. "Physical contact with royalty is a privilege, it cannot be given lightly" that was his phrase.

Merlin: (realizes, sad) The king doesn't… doesn't hug you much, does he? (Thinking) Now that I think about it, I don't remember a single time he did it.

Arthur: (thinking back) I think the last time he did it I was… 5 years old? Oh, don't look at me like that. I understand why he thought that was the best way to raise me, but it wasn't until recently that I realized… that's not how I want to live the rest of my life, or how I would raise my kids, you know? I don't want to deny myself the giving or receiving of affection, at least not when it comes to the people I care about.

Merlin: (understanding) That's why you hug Morgana more often now.

Arthur: And you. (Extends his arms) So? Will you give me my lucky hug or not?

Merlin: (laughs softly) As if you need it. (but he hugs him, thinking) I'm glad you trust me enough to tell me this and that you want to change. We've never... we've never hugged this much before... It's... it feels good. (melts in the hug)

Arthur: (thinking) I thought I'll never have you like this ever again... (pulls him closer) I don't want this to end. Gods, let me hold him forever. Please

Merlin: (thinking, scolding himself) Stop it! What will Arthur think? (gently separates the hug and says) There, you can go now.

Arthur: I don't think that's enough luck.

Merlin: (confused) Huh?

Arthur: I'm going to need this too (takes Merlin's neckerchief off)

Merlin: What?! 😨 What are you doing?! (He tries to get the neckerchief back from him) Give it back! Arthur! 😠

Arthur: (raising the nekerchief and dodging all of Merlin's attempts to take it from him) I need all the luck I can get, Merlin. And what's luckier than a favor?

Merlin: (very red, but pretending to be upset) Yes, but that's supposed to be with the favor of a lady! Not my-That's not how it works!

Arthur: Would you prefer that I ask a Lady hers?

Merlin: That's not... You don't need it! 😡

Arthur: I could die.

Merlin: (raises his voice in sudden panic) You are not going to die! (Composes himself) Sorry.

Servant x: (enters) Sire, they are waiting for you.

Arthur: I'll be right away. (puts the neckerchief around his arm) Merlin, help me, will you?

Merlin: (ties the neckerchief around Arthur's arm, blushing)

Servant x: (gives Merlin a knowing smile and then turns to Arthur) Your highness (bows and leaves)

Merlin: (sighs, thinking) Great... more rumors...

Arthur: Will you be cheering for me? 😏

Merlin: (snorts) You wish. (Softens his expression) But I'll be there. Just to make sure you don't ruin my neckerchief, of course.

Arthur: (starts to leave, but turns to Merlin) My lady (bows with a flirtatious smile and leaves)

Merlin: (in shock with eyes wide open) What the…? (turns red with fury and embarrassment) This clotpole is making fun of me! 😡

Arthur wins, of course. Merlin was definitely not clapping and cheering loudly and he definitely did not blush furiously when Arthur decided to give back his neckerchief publicly.

"He is taking this joke too far" is all Merlin can think when he gets back to his chamers, but he sleeps with a smile on his face and the neckerchief curled in his hand.

In "The moment of truth"

In Arthur's chambers. Arthur writes at his desk.

Merlin: (enters without knocking) Arthur!

Arthur: (startled, spills the ink with which he was writing on the parchment)

Merlin: Sorry... 😅

Arthur: (sighs, thinking) Some things just never change. (Says) Be useful for once and bring me another scroll, will you?

Merlin: (hurries to take out another scroll and gives it to him)

Arthur: (takes the parchment) Any special reason why you decided to burst into my chambers so suddenly or did you just miss me? (moves his eyebrows flirtuosly)

Merlin: (blushes) I...(thinking, freaking out internally) WHAT IS HE DOING?!😳😱😫. (Says, nervous) I just wanted to ask you if you could give me a few days off so I can visit my mother, sire. (doesn't look at him in the eye)

Arthur: (frowns, concerned) Is something wrong? You seem anxious.

Merlin: It is nothing, my lord. I just miss seeing my mother. I haven't been able to see her since I came to the castle.

Arthur: I see, that's understandable. (He puts the parchment aside and stands to look Merlin right in the eye, seriously) Now the truth.

Merlin: (thinking) Damn it! (sighs, giving up and says) I got a letter from her recently. The village I come from, where my mother lives, is being attacked by raiders. I promise I won't be gone for long, just until I'm sure she's save. She's my mother, Arthur. I need-

Arthur: I understand. You have my permission.

Merlin: (smiles) Thank you, Arthur (About to leave)

Arthur: Oh, take this (throws him a bag with supplies)

Merlin: (looking at the bag) What...?

Arthur: (Searches the room and grabs another bag) And this (throws it at Merlin too) and this (goes to Merlin and hangs the last bag around his neck). Yep, that's all, let's go.

Merlin: (confused) Go where, Sire?

Arthur: To Ealdor together.

Merlin: What? No! (Drops all things) Arthur, you can't come with me. The king will not allow it.

Arrhur: Did you really think I'll let you go alone?

Merlin: (thinking) I mean, you did came with me before, but no so soon! (Says) But, Uther-

Arthur: Don't worry about it. I'll solve it.

Merlin: But I need to go alone!

Arthur: Why?

Merlin: (thinking) Because I need to be able to use magic without you watching me! (Says) I…

Arthur: (thinking) I don't know how advanced you are at your magic, I'm not going to risk something happening to you... And I have to reduce numbers. (snorts) I know you think highly of yourself, Merlin, but I don't think you can take down a mugger patch all on your own.

Merlin: (thinking) If you only knew... (Says) You don't have to do it.

Arthur: True, but I want to.

Merlin: (smiles) I know and I really apreaciate it. Truly. But it's not just a matter of want. Ealdor is in another Kingdom and if there was a word that the Prince of Camelot went there- (thinking) The treaty with Cenred will be broken and it would be my fault again.

Despite Arthur never telling Merlin this in his other life, he knows Arthur going to Ealdor to help him played a great part in that to happen. He remembers Uther was furious with Arthur when he got back and throw him in the dungeons for a week. When Arthur finally got out he had several bruises on his skin. It was the first time Merlin ever consider killing Uther if even for a moment. Arthur never hold any of that against Merlin but that didn't make him feel any less guilty. He can't make Arthur go through that again.

Arthur: No one has to know I'm the Prince. Plus we could take it as a trip to Ealdor and I can finally meet your mother.

Merlin: (confused) Why do you want to meet my mother?

Arthur: Can't I meet my manservant's family?

Merlin: (shuts his mouth helplessly, thinking) Oh, well, at least it'll just be Arthur and me.

Time skip. Outside the castle.

Merlin: (yelling at Arthur) YOU BROUGHT YOUR KNIGHTS?! 😡

Knight 1, 2, 3 and Leon: (standing awkwardly a few meters away of Arthur and Merlin)

Knight 1: He's yelling at the prince.

Knight 2: I think the servant doesn't like us very much.

Knight 3: I feel bad third.

Leon: I'm not even surprised anymore.

[Welcome to: ✨breaking the fourth wall space✨

Me: Hi!😊 I'm the author of this crazy story! An I created this little space so the characters can break the fourth wall, without affecting the trama! They will mostly use it just to complain to me though.

Knight 1, 2 and 3: (to the author) Hey! when are you going to give us names?! 😡

Me: (to the audience) See? (to the nameless knights) Well, I would but, you see. Normally I just give names when they... last.

Knights 1, 2 and 3: (who literally die in the "Le Morte d'Arthur" part) What does she mean? 🤨

End of ✨Breaking the fourth wall space✨]

Arthur: (To Merlin, but raising his voice so the knights hear him) Of course! We are going to carry out a formal inspection of Camelot's border (looking at Merlin meaningfully), or did you expect the King to send his only Prince and heir to the border alone, Merlin?

Merlin: Oh... Oh, right!(nods exaggeratedly and turns to the knights smiling, then looks back at Arthur with too much enthusiasm) Then we better hurry, my lord. (He gets on his mare)

Arthur: (gets on his horse too)

Time skip. Merlin and Arthur riding ahead and the rest of the knights riding a few meters behind.

Merlin: (Just loud enough so Arthur can hear) Did you tell them?

Arthur: Tell them what?

Merlin: 😑

Arthur: Of course (pauses) not.

Merlin: Do you realize that technically we will be invading the territory of a neighboring kingdom? Not only is it a delicate matter, it could escalate into a diplomatic conflict! That's why I told you-

Arthur: Don't worry, I have a plan.

Merlin: (opens his mouth)

Arthur: (cuts him) Before you ask me what the plan is, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. (Turns to give a look at the knights) That way they will have no choice but to obey me.

Knights: (feeling a chill down their spine)

Time skip. After two days of travel, they finally arrive at the border.

Knight 2: Uhm… Sire? Isn't this the border?

Arthur: No, it's ahead.

Knight 1: I'm sure we've already crossed the border.

Arthur: Do you claim to know more than me, Sir Innprudence?

Knight 1: No, sire (shuts up)

[Knight 1: (to the author) Sir Innprudence?! 😡 That's the best name you could come up with? Really?!

Me: (laughs a little) He he, yeah, I forgot I already named you in part 16.

Knight 1: I prefer Knight 1 😒.

Me: Too late, I already changed it 😈.

Sir Innprudence: NO! 😭]

In the forest of Escetir, near Ealdor. Arthur stops and dismounts his horse, so the others do too.

Leon: Have we reached the border yet, sire?

Arthur: Actually, we are technically in Escetir.

Knights: WHAT?!😱

Arthur: Yes, we're on a deck mission. I'll explain. Merlin, bring the bags.

Merlin: (brings the bags)

Arthur: (To the knights) Do you see the village there? (points to Ealdor)

Leon: Yes, sire.

Arthur: This is my manservant's home village and it's under attack by raiders. Our mission is to slay them all and protect this village.

Knights: ...

Merlin: Oh gods 🤦‍♂️

Arthur: As you know, it would be catastrophic if they were to find out the Prince and the Knights of Camelot were here. So (takes some clothes out of the bags) We're going to pretend to be mercenaries. (throws the clothes at each of them) and we will tell the villagers that we were paid to defend them.

Sir Innprudence: And who paid us?

Arthur: Merlin, of course.

Merlin: What?!😨 Arthur, no one is going to believe that!

Arthur: Why not? This is your native village, your mother lives here. You have more than enough reasons to want to protect Ealdor.

Merlin: And where did I supposely get the money from?!

Arthur: From your benevolent master, of course. That pays you very generously.

Merlin: You are mad! Completely mad! (Pointing to the knights) THIS is MADNESS!

Leon: Sire, you know that I support you no matter what, but you do understand you are basically asking us to betray the king, right?

Arthur: That's only if he finds out, which he is not going to do.

Sir Innprudence, knights 2 and 3: (hesitating whether or not to inform the king of what is happening)

Arthur: After all, everyone here crossed the border, so everyone here would be in trouble if the king ever found out. Although, of course, I would not receive such a severe punishment because I am the prince and unlike others I am not replaceable.

Knights: …

Leon: Count on us, sire 😊.

Merlin: (shouts) NO! (To Arthur) You are not going to do this! 😡

Arthur: (with feigned confusion) But, Merlin, it was you who asked for my help strongly, don't you remember?

Merlin: (jaw drops at Arthur's audacity, thinking) This son of a- (says) That's not true! (To the Knights) I didn't ask for anything, I swear!

Leon: Don't worry, Merlin, we understand how things happened. (wraps an arm around Merlin) Surely you only asked him for money to hire the mercenaries, but his highness decided to come himself to defend the village for you.

Merlin: No! I didn't ask for anything at all!

Knight 2: (to Knight 3) He is the favorite for sure.

Sir Innprudence: (to Leon, making him let go of Merlin in panic) Don't touch him! Do you want to die?!

Knight 3: We better change.

Knights: (start changing)

Merlin: I'm not...! I didn't...! (tries to explain, but no knight listens)

Arthur: (smiling, amused) What are you waiting for, Merlin? (Points to his mercenary clothes so Merlin dresses him)

Merlin: (goes to Arthur and changes his clothes, thinking) Oh, you're going to pay for this Arthur Pendragon.

Meanwhile in Ealdor.

Kanen: (on his horse, grabbing the harvest sacks) What's this? Where's the rest of it?

Village chief: (on the ground, picking up the vegetables they made him drop) I only kept back what we need to survive.

Kanen: (mockingly) Survive? (threatenly) I'll be back in one week, farmer, and I want to see all of it.

Hunith: (Runs furiously to Kanen) You can't take our food! Our children will starve! I won't let you do this! (Tries to take the harvest sacks) You're not taking any of it!

Kanen: (hits her and Hunith falls to the ground)

Merlin: (arriving on his mare, shouts) Mom! (Furious, mutters a spell) Miere hors.

Kanen's horse: (gets upset, raising his legs, making Kanen fall off him)

Hunith: (hurries to grab the harvest sacks and runs)

Arthur and knights: (just behind Merlin, they get off their horses and attack the raiders)

Merlin: (gets off his mare and runs to Hunith) Mom! (cradles her face) Are you okay?

Hunith: (very surprised and happy) Merlin! What are you doing here?

Kanen: (gets up and rushes towards Merlin and Hunith with his sword, about to sly them)

Arthur: (blocks the attack with excalibur) Don't you dare... (Breaks Kanen's sword with excalibur) even think about it!

Villagers: (looking between fear and amazement)

Kanen: (seeing himself outmatched, decides to retreat) You will pay for this with your lives! (gets on a horse nearby) All of you! (Looks down at Hunith and smirks) I'll see you later, sweetheart.

Merlin: (about to jump beat Kanen up, enraged)

Arthur: (Stops him by putting an arm in front of him)

Kanen: (leaves with the raiders that survived)

Arthur: (Thinking, coldly) He'll be back with more, perfect. (Looks at the bodies lying there, thinking) 295.

Hunith: (hugging Merlin) My son, how good it is to see you, but you shouldn't be here.

Merlin: I came as soon as I knew what was happening (points at Arthur) and I brought help.

Arthur: (introduces himself) Nice to meet you, Hunith of Ealdor, my name is Arthur. Merlin hired me and my men to defend this village.

Hunith: Arthur? Like Prince Arthur?

Arthur: A very popular name, indeed.

Hunith: (smiles) I sincerely thank you for what you're doing, Arthur. You are very chivalrous for a mercenary. (sees the knights in the distance, who are helping the women and children) You all seem very chivalrous to be mercenaries.

Arthur: Uh... We get paid well.

Will: (approaches Merlin) You're still up to the same old tricks? I thought I told you we don't want your kind here.

Merlin: ...

Will: (confused) Merlin?

Merlin: (suddenly breaks down crying)

Arthur: (angry, to Will, ready to beat him up right there) What's wrong with you?! 😡

Will: (in panic, worried) I was kidding! Merlin, that's how we always mess with each other! I did not mean-

Merlin: (his crying turns into laughter) Ha! I got you. (Hugs Will) I missed you too, Will. (Thinking) I missed you so much.

Arthur: (coughs, definitely not jealous) Merlin, gather the villagers, I need to talk to them.

Merlin: (pulls away from the hug) Yes, right away. (about to leave)

Will: Wait. You let him give you orders? I thought you hired him.

Merlin: (in realization and smiles evilly) It's true. (hits Arthur arms) You! How insolent! Is this how you treat your employer? You gather the villagers!

Arthur: (About to yell at him, but remembers that Hunith and Will are there and stops himself) Sorry, I thought you might want to do it yourself. I'll do it right away. (Thinking) Wait until we return to Camelot, you dollophead.

Merlin: (thinking) Oh, this is going to be fun.

...

I know this kind of feels like a filler, but it's important I swear! What did Kilgharrah meant? Can Merlin save Will this time? Will the rest of the Kmights get to have names? Find out in the next episode of ✨"Merlin: the Mistress in denial" ✨

#merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #merlin fanfic #merlin fic #merlin prompt #merthur fic #merlin and arthur #arthur and merlin #Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU #merthur fanfiction #merthur fanfic #merthur prompt

301 notes · View notes

mercurysmaelstrom · 2 months ago

Text

Bite the Hand

pairing: Gwayne Hightower x Knight!Reader

summary: Labelled as a kinslayer, you flee from your city, finding solace in a seaside town. Years later, Gwayne Hightower, an old friend whose house is allied with your own, comes in search for you now that your house is in need of a new head.

Gwayne looks for you in hopes of rekindling the relationship you ran away from.

contains: angst, smut (18+), no use of y/n.

word count: 3.1k

notes: this is for my service tops. reader is gender neutral. also reader is more of an ex-knight. happy reading!

You poured a tankard of ale into your cup as your crew conversed.

Your table sat all the way in a far corner of the wharf-side tavern, a booth you swiftly suggested when you and your fellow dock workers first arrived. With the full room in view, your eyes glided along the area, observing the several port laborers and merchants—most of them rowdy men, as to be expected.

You took notice of the tavern waitress and the blank expression on her face as the very same men harassed her, indicating that she was used to it. Thus, the next time she approached your booth, you flipped a gold coin in her direction, following it with a small nod as her eyes briefly widened at you.

She smiled tightly, grateful, yet confused, then walked away when she realized you had no intention of asking for anything.

“How gracious of you,” you heard a voice in the booth behind you, the one spot out of your line of sight.

The soft look you’d presented to the waitress hardened once you recognized who the voice belonged to.

You continued to look forward as you spoke. “What are you doing here?”

Gwayne Hightower slurped the rest of his wine before returning his cup to the table. “I could ask the same of you. Your house is missing an heir.”

The redhead wasn’t worried about being heard. The myriad of voices in the room easily flushed out his own, including yours.

You snorted. “If that were true, I would have claimed it long ago.” You took another swig of your ale. “My father was not particularly keen on passing it on to me.”

“Perhaps I need to speak more bluntly.” He leaned closer to you. “I would not be here if your father were not desperate for his heir. Age has caught up to him.”

Finally, you turned toward him with a furrow in your brows, seeing the face of a childhood companion. No cloak hid his armor, not that anyone paid him any mind. Many knights came and went in this town.

“The Stranger has taken him?” Was it relief or grief you were feeling? You weren’t sure.

“Not yet,” Gwayne answered. “But he is weak.”

You turned away, wretched memories furiously swimming their way to the surface. Even after all these years, the truth of your doing was not any easier to accept. It mattered not if what you did was right or wrong. Guilt had a way of latching onto you and never letting go.

You stood up, your crewmates much too distracted with their beer-medicated laughter to notice you. You momentarily scanned the room before looking down at Gwayne you peered up at you expectantly.

“Let’s speak elsewhere.”

The two of you pushed past the cramped room, exiting the tavern and its slippery concrete floors. When you decided speaking outside a lively business would be reckless, Gwayne followed on foot with his horse by his side as you reluctantly led him to the small cottage you owned not far from the wharf.

“Have a seat,” you told him once the two of you escaped the cold wind of the coast, entering your home.

While you decloaked, Gwayne unsheathed his sword, laying it on the gray wooden table you had handcrafted yourself.

The moon beamed through the kitchen window, enough to help you see where you were going as you headed for the makeshift altar you had set above the fireplace, lighting a few of the candles you used more for reading than praying, although your first year in this town mustered more prayers from you than your life in Ecraen altogether.

You occupied your focus on the hearth below as Gwayne removed his pauldron and arm braces, the metal clanking against the table until he was left clad in a dark green gambeson and leg armor. He did not sit after, but instead roamed curiously around the small kitchen dining room, examining nothing of importance.

“This place—no one’s suspicious of your ownership?”

You stoked the now-crackling fire. “No one’s been here. Except you.”

Gwayne cleared his throat, remembering why he was here in the first place. “As I said, your father needs an heir.”

Your brow twitched. “What of my cousin?”

“You truly believe your father would rather his brother’s son become head of your family house? Regardless of your…” he paused for a moment, treading lightly as he looked out the window, “familial matters and, of course, his pride, he would rather foresee his own.”

“My cousin should be of age in a year,” you disregarded his answer.

“I do not trust that your father has a year.”

“Hm.”

Gwayne turned to face you, your back still in his direction. “Are you not even the least bit eager to claim your position?”

You sighed, setting down the stoker and facing the Hightower. “I am not fond of the reasoning, no. And even in Ecraen, I failed to see my father glance at me for consideration. And now he’s old. And gray. And desperate for the spare he cared not for all those years ago.” Now that Gwayne was in front of you, your mouth regrettably couldn’t stop running. “And you: why even send you? Of all people in my family- oh, unless the dishonor of the kinslayer was all too much, they had to send a Hightower instead.”

“You know I am much more than that,” Gwayne gruffly retaliated, taking a step forward. You could see he had lost his patience. “I was your companion, was I not?”

You swallowed.

“Before you left. Without a word. Not a whisper, nor a note.” He took another step forward. “We were close, you and I.”

Recollections of breathless sparring lessons between you and Gwayne when you were only squires ran through your mind—wooden swords clacking roughly against each other before you graduated to the sharp clangs of iron. You remembered joining your cups together, laughing with fellow young knights. And you remembered the redhead taking your lips with his own behind a tavern in Oldtown after more than enough drinks, drunk yet chaste.

Then you remembered his lack of remembrance for that kiss.

You never blamed him for it, though you certainly never reminded him either, even as you endured the heartache before disappearing.

You tore your eyes away from him, anxious to face the flame again. “I fear you may have wasted your journey here.”

Before you knew it, the knight had made his way closer, only an arm’s reach away.

“If you think I’ve traveled all this way simply on your father’s volition, you are mistaken,” replied Gwayne.

His gaze flustered you just as he did in your youth. And you loathed it; honeyed words that never meant what you shamefully hoped they meant.

With that, you sidestepped from him and the hearth, positioning your body to catch sight of him through the edge of your eye as you busied yourself with needlessly adjusting the tapestry of the seven-pointed star.

You were never heavily spiritual, not really. Neither was your father. Your mother was a different story. But time alone in this coastal town eventually pushed you toward the Faith.

You spoke again, your voice weaker than intended: “What other reason would you have for being here?”

“I came to see an old friend,” he answered earnestly.

An old friend.

You continued to fidget with the wool. “Alright then. You’ve seen me. You’ve spoken about my father; my house needs a new head? They can find that in cousin Alren. You’ve done what you needed, you may leave now.”

The knight’s lips parted at the haste of your words, his head tilting before his mouth closed. He moved close to the furnace, staring into the swirling fire.

Gwayne chuckled humorlessly. “Is that all?”

You could no longer see him, your back once again faced to him. You didn’t know how to feel. In this moment, you weren’t certain if you truly wanted him far away from you. Not when a part of you itched for the opposite.

“I have a life here, Gwayne,” you said, your focus still on the dimly lit tapestry.

He scoffed, his focus still on the flame. “And what life is that? Port labor? Drinks with a crew whom you hardly acknowledge? Days with no one but yourself?”

Gwayne lifted his head to see the seven candles above the hearth.

He knew your relationship with the Faith lacked stability. Frankly, he could not recall your faith being firm enough to see you in a sept, much less creating an altar for yourself, an attempt at one that is. Seeing one here made him wonder how desperate you were for the company of another that you seemed to have finally leaned on the presence of the incorporeal.

You sniffed. “‘Tis better than a life of shame.”

He spun his incredulous gaze to the back of your head. “Shame was your punishment in Ecraed. Yet you’ve told me no one has been in this sullen home of yours before me. Do you not see how you’ve isolated yourself? You traveled far to distance yourself from shame only to carry the damned thing with you all the way here!”

Frustrated, he furthered himself from you, drawing closer to the dining table with a hand on his hip and the other wiping down his mouth.

He tittered, eyeing the floor. “Better than a life of shame.”

“Do not mock me,” you spoke gutturally over your shoulder, dropping your hand from the tapestry.

“‘Tis but a repetition of your own words.”

The fire sputtered, its sizzling hum filling the room when you had nothing else to say, because as much as you hated to admit it, Gwayne was right, and all you could do was sit with the hard truth.

You glanced up at the seven-pointed star, embarrassed. Ashamed. Always ashamed.

Fuck, it was exhausting. Most of all, it was distracting.

You heaved out a sigh and looked to see the side of Gwayne’s face. The flame warmly flickered on his skin. You hadn’t taken the time to process how much older he had become since you last saw him.

Your stare broke when Gwayne turned suddenly, his face out of view as he went to retrieve his armor.

In fact, he wasn’t sure why he removed it in the first place.

“Mayhaps…you were right. I’ve done what was needed.” He lifted the pauldron over his head, proceeding with the rest of his protective plates. “Now I shall take my leave. Send a raven if you’ve changed your mind.”

“Gwayne.” You took a step toward him. Regret quickly seeped into you like venom from a snake.

“You live your shameless life hiding in this town.” He worked on his arm braces, moving much too fast to buckle smoothly. “And I will journey back to Ecraen.”

Your feet moved faster than you could think—you grasped his forearm. “Don’t.”

He tried to pull out of your hold, but you remained firm, pulling him toward you. Again, he tried to pull away until you confessed, “You’re right!” putting his movement to a halt. “You’re right. I know not how to live without shame.”

Gwayne’s body stilled. He only looked at you with sternness on his face.

Your eyes flickered between each of his, seizing his braced arm in anticipation that he would leave at any moment.

“Even before my brother fell from my sword,” you carried on almost hurriedly, “I knew shame all too well. But that is no excuse for how I’ve…for how I’ve treated you, I-I see that now. But you must understand, I was young; tunnel-visioned. I could only see so much, and all I could truly see…” you peered at your hand on his relenting arm, “was my own guilt—the disappointment I brought to my house.” Then you peered back up into his eyes, blue with tinges of orange that gleamed from the hearth. “I am truly sorry I did not see you.”

Gwayne didn’t move as he took in your confession; your realization.

In retrospect, he understood why you left. He understood the weight of your crime, and he understood why you did what you did. He recognized why you left your house and Ecraen; he recognized why you broke your knightly vows.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t understand how you left him, as selfish as it sounded. At least not at the time. But seeing crinkle in your brows and hearing the desperation in your voice, he realized that mayhaps he had been thinking too much of himself as well.

Gwayne looked down at the small space shared between the two of you.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“You’re sorry,” he murmured.

You angled your head to see Gwayne’s face and moved your hand from his forearm to his elbow. “I am.”

His eyes glided to your hand. This close, the redhead could smell saltwater off of you, a scent you lacked in Ecraen. He did not mind it.

He swallowed. “I suppose…I did not see you either.” He raised his head and your own followed as he returned his gaze on you. “And it seems I am not the only one in need of an apology.”

You scoffed softly. “I don't believe I want an apology.”

“What is it that you want then?” Gwayne whispered.

With no words left to say, you took hold of the back of his neck and pulled him in, pressing your lips onto his. Despite the small pause of shock, Gwayne didn’t fail to reciprocate. Both of his hands shot for the sides of your face as he inhaled, breathing you in.

Gwayne consumed you, chasing for a flavor he hadn’t remembered lingered on his tongue. The taste of your lips rang bells of familiarity, and even lost in your touch, he hazily wondered why that was.

Ignorant of what occurred in Gwayne’s mind, you took in the feel of him, remembering what you thought you had long forgotten.

You tilted your head, deepening the kiss, and he parted his lips, allowing your tongue to enter. His allowance didn’t end there. It didn’t end when you guided him to the table and it didn’t end when you started to remove his armor all over again, sneaking in kiss after kiss as you pulled the pauldron over his head. You lowered it to the ground as Gwayne unbuckled his gambeson, revealing a beige tunic beneath.

You returned to kiss him again, laying a hand on his hip before hesitantly sliding it toward his groin.

You pulled away again. “Can I…?”

“Yes,” Gwayne answered breathlessly, chasing for your lips again.

A muffled moan escaped his mouth when you cupped him, trailing your lips to his jaw and down his neck, snaking a hand under his pants. Gwayne murmured your name groggily as you grabbed hold of his stiff cock, rubbing up and down, feeling him out. Then you pulled your lips away from his neck and lowered his pants, the knight intently watching you. He continued to watch when you spat in your hand and grabbed him once again, and in response, a whimper released from the back of his throat.

You stared back at him, reveling at the sight of his mouth parting wordlessly as you rubbed your thumb over his leaking tip. You enjoyed having him here, eager for your touch; his member in your hand as he gazed at you with so much anticipation. Equally as eager to please him, you moved your fist up and down his length, slowly first, just to witness him writhe.

You didn’t fail to notice his hand tightly holding on to the edge of the table, his body more sensitive than you expected, presumably from his days on the road.

He dropped his head between your neck and shoulder. “Please.”

You couldn’t help but place your hand on the back of his head, lightly tugging at his red hair while you quickened the pace. You hadn’t expected to hear the vulnerable whimpers from a man you’d seen in battle, killing men left and right, especially when you twisted your hand near the tip of his cock.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“Don’t tell me you're nearly there already?” You teased him, smearing pre-cum along his length to help lubricate him even more, earning more profanities from his tongue.

A subtle smile appeared on his lips, though you couldn’t see it. “No time for sex.”

Your pace began to slow, hoping to prolong this moment with him. “I don’t recall you taking a vow of chastity in Oldtown.”

“Don’t…”

“Mm?”

“Don’t…don’t slow down.”

You tilted your head. “Look at me and I’ll do as you say.”

Gwayne obeyed, lifting his head with no reluctance.

Your hand snaked around to his face, and you patted his flushed cheek. “There we go,” you told him, keeping your hand on his jaw as your other hand jerked him faster. “There we go, Gwayne.”

Soon after you spoke, he grunted.

You licked your lips as you watched him squeeze his eyes shut, his mouth wide open as he came. Simply listening to him—gods, the sound of him, you never wanted it to stop. And so you kept rubbing, milking him of all his worth.

“Shit.” Gwayne’s body squirmed, but you continued, dropping your other hand on the table beside him.

As smooth as your hand moved, from your spit or his own bodily fluids, there was something about the calluses on your palm that added to the sensation; calluses that stemmed from the hilt of your sword. Feeling that you still had them, somewhere in Gwayne’s disheveled mind, he put together that you hadn’t put down the sword completely.

Memories of you swinging your sword almost sent him over the edge again right then and there.

“Want me to stop?” You leaned in. “I can stop.”

There was a smugness in your tone that took him back to your sparring lessons; you used to ask him the same thing when he seemed too tired to fight back.

“No, don’t.” He lifted his head to the ceiling. “Keep going,” he requested and you listened.

You could feel your hand start to cramp, but you ignored it, too enthralled by Gwayne moaning your name. You kissed his neck initially, then sucked, smoothing over newfound bruises on his skin with your tongue before he lowered his head, impatient to claim your lips right as he came again, light splatters of additional cum inevitably landing on your fingers and pants.

You pulled your lips away, your body still pressed against his as you snickered. Gwayne’s forehead landed on your shoulder again as he came back down to earth.

You caressed the back of his neck. “Feeling alright?”

Gwayne hummed, lifting his head back up, still somewhat high from your cramped hand.

“Interested in me returning the favor?” He tugged at the hem of your trousers.

“Very.”

#gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower fanfic #house of the dragon #ser gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower fanfiction #hotd #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon season 2 #freddie fox

102 notes · View notes