#ser gwayne fanfic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nyrasvoid · 3 months ago

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The Cost of Duty

Gwayne Hightower x Fem!Reader

Summary: Gwayne Hightower, is summoned in Kingslanding during his wife’s first pregnancy. After giving birth to their son without him, she struggles to forgive Gwayne upon his return.

Warnings: lots of angst because our girl is alone but a good ending i guess ?

A/N: no use of Y/N and also included Daeron in the fanfic, he’s 7 yrs old and raised by Gwayne and his wife

- Word count: ≈2.9k

Your hand rests on your growing belly, feeling the subtle movements of your child. The babe is still small, just five moons along, but every tiny kick, is a reminder of the life growing inside you, a life you created with Gwayne. Yet, as the days pass, it feels like you are experiencing this miracle alone.

The door creaks open, and Gwayne steps inside, his expression tired as he pulls off his gloves. His face is lined with the exhaustion of someone who has been carrying the weight of Oldtown on his shoulders.

You watch him as he moves around the room, setting his things aside without a word. A part of you wants to let it go, to simply accept that he is busy, that he is doing his duty. But another part aches for his attention, for the warmth and closeness you once shared.

"Gwayne," you say, your voice soft.

He looks up, his eyes briefly meeting yours before he looks away again. "Yes, my love?"

You hesitate, trying to find the right words. "You've been so distant lately," you begin, trying to keep a calm tone. "I understand that your duties are important, but... I miss you. I miss us."

He sighs, rubbing his temple as he moves closer to you. "I know, my love. I know it has been difficult. But there is so much that needs my attention. With Father in King’s Landing, everything falls to me."

"But what about me?" you ask, your voice rising slightly. "What about our child? I need you, Gwayne. We need you."

He looks at you, with guilt in his eyes. "I am here now, am I not? I’m doing the best I can. But Oldtown... it doesn’t run itself."

You stand, unable to keep your frustration to yourself. "And what about me? Do I run myself too? I sit here every single day, waiting for you, hoping for just a moment of your time. But when you finally come, it’s like you’re not really here.”

You pause.

“You do not even look at me unless I speak to you first."

Gwayne steps back, as if putting distance between you would solve your problems. "I do not have the privilege of simply putting things aside, my dear. You knew this when we married."

"I didn’t know it would mean being ignored!" you snap, your hands trembling as you grip the skirts of your dress tightly.

He takes a deep breath. "I’m doing this for us, for our future. The child’s future. Can you not see that?"

Tears threaten to fall out your eyes, but you refuse to cry. "I just want my husband back," you whisper.

Gwayne’s face softens, and he reaches out to touch your arm, but you pull away before he can touch you. “My love-"

"Don’t," you say, "Just... don’t."

He watches you for a moment, but he says nothing more, only turning and leaving the room, the sound of the door closing behind him, leaving you alone again.

Days pass, and the tension between you two only grows. Gwayne is present, but his mind is always on his duties. You feel as if you’re growing further and further away from him.

One evening, after a long day, Gwayne finally sits down beside you as you take your evening meal. You’ve been silent for most of the day, and now the sight of him so close yet so distant is almost unbearable.

He clears his throat, breaking the silence. "I have received a raven from King’s Landing today," he begins.

"And?" You replied unphased, not even looking at him.

"Father has summoned me," he says, "He needs my presence to sort out some political matters."

You place your spoon down. "King’s Landing?" you repeat, disbelief in your words. "That’s so far... and I’m already five moons along, Gwayne."

"I know," he says, his voice low. "But I will be returning as soon as I can. I won’t let anything keep me from being here for the birth."

You shake your head, unable to believe what you’re hearing. "You don’t know that. What if something happens? What if you don’t make it back in time?"

"I will," he insists, reaching for your hand, but you pull it back.

"You’re not listening to me!" you raise your voice at him, your frustration taking over. "You’re choosing to leave. You’re choosing your father over me. Over us."

He frowns. "It’s not a choice, my dearest. It is a duty. My father needs me."

"And I need you," you sob, your voice breaking. "I can’t do this alone, Gwayne. I shouldn’t have to. You are my husband before anything else."

He reaches out again, but this time you stand, moving away from him. "Please," he begins, but you shake your head.

"Don’t ask me to understand," you say, "Because I don’t."

After a long moment of silence, you hear him rise from his seat. "I’m leaving in three days time," he says quietly, his voice filled with regret. "Please, try to rest.”

You say nothing, you hear the door close behind him, and you break down crying, once again, you are left alone.

The night before he’s supposed to leave, Gwayne comes to your shared chambers, his expression softer than it’s been in weeks. He moves to sit beside you on the bed, his hand resting on your knee.

"I know you’re angry with me," he begins, his voice gentle. "But I don’t want to leave on bad terms. I love you. You must know that."

You turn to face him, your emotions a mix of anger, sadness, and love. "If you loved me, you wouldn’t be leaving."

He looks surprised, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, his hand sliding up your nightgown. "Let me show you," he murmurs as he presses tender kisses down your collarbone.

But the anger and hurt are still too fresh. You place a hand on his chest, pushing him back firmly. "Not tonight, Gwayne."

He pulls back, surprise and hurt showing in his eyes. "My love..."

"I can’t," you say, "I’m still angry. I need...time."

He nods understandingly. "I am sorry," he whispers, pulling you into his arms despite your anger. "I am truly, so sorry."

You let him hold you, sobbing into his arms without saying a word.

Gwayne leaves at dawn, you watch from the window, your hand resting over your belly as he rides away. He turns once, looking back, but you don’t move. You don’t wave.

As the days turn into weeks, the loneliness only grows. Gwayne’s absence is a constant reminder of the growing distance between you. You try to busy yourself with tasks; embroidering blankets for the babe, reading, even taking long walks through the gardens. But nothing can fill the void he has left behind.

You spend time with Daeron, Gwayne’s youngest nephew, who has been staying in Oldtown under your and your husband’s care since he was born, and he had now seven years of age.

One afternoon, as the two of you sit beneath the shade of a large tree, Daeron looks up at you sadly.

You reach out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “What’s on your mind, sweetling?”

Daeron glances up at you, his blue eyes filled with a sadness. “Auntie… will you and Uncle Gwayne forget about me when the babe is born?”

The question catches you off guard. You shift closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into a gentle embrace. “Forget about you? Never, Daeron. Why would you think such a thing?”

He shrugs, trying to appear indifferent, but his voice trembles as he speaks. “Because the babe is your child. He’ll be important, and I’m just… I’m just your nephew.”

You tighten your hold on him, your heart breaking at the thought that he feels so insecure. “Daeron, listen to me,” you say softly. “You are not just our nephew. You’re as much a part of this family as the babe will be. Gwayne and I love you dearly, and nothing will ever change that.”

His eyes fill with tears. “But… he’ll be your real son. Won’t you love him more?”

You shake your head. “Of course not, sweetling. I will love both of you equally, just as if you were both my sons. I promise you that. You and the babe will grow up together, and I will raise you both as brothers. Nothing will change how much I care for you.”

Daeron’s lip trembles, and he finally allows himself to lean into your hug, resting his head against your shoulder. “You mean it? You won’t forget about me?”

You press a kiss to the top of his head. “I mean it, Daeron. You are very dear to me. The babe will be your little brother, and he will look up to you, just like you look up to Gwayne. I’m sure you’ll be the best big brother anyone could ask for.”

He sniffles but nods. “I will teach him all the things I know. How to ride a horse, and how to climb trees…”

“And how to be kind and brave, just like you,” you add with a smile.

Daeron smiles a little. “I’ll do my best. I promise.”

You hug him tighter. “I know you will, Daeron. And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

He pulls back slightly, looking up at you with determination. “I’ll be the best big brother ever.”

You smile, ruffling his hair affectionately. “I’m sure you will be, my love. And the babe will be so lucky to have you as his brother.”

The boy’s expression softens as he looks at your belly. “Do you think he’ll be just like uncle Gwayne? Brave and strong?”

You hesitate for a moment, the thought of Gwayne filling your mind with sadness. “Perhaps,” you say gently.

Daeron nods, then his face brightens again as he looks up at you. “Can I help you pick out a name for him?”

Your smile widens at the offer. “Of course. Do you have any ideas?”

He thinks for a moment, his brow furrowing in concentration. “What about Maelor? It’s a strong name, isn’t it?”

You tilt your head, considering the name. “Maelor…” you say slowly. “Yes, it is a strong name.”

Daeron smiles, clearly proud of himself. “I can’t wait to meet him, auntie. We’re going to have so much fun together.”

As the months drag on, you begin to feel your belly grow heavier each day. Letters from Gwayne arrive frequently, filled with words of love and concern, but you don’t care to answer them.

You feel alone, as the weeks turn into months and the baby gets more active. Every kick is a reminder that the time is running out and you can only hope that Gwayne comes back in time.

But as your belly grows, so too does your anxiety.

One evening, you feel a sharp pain. You clutch at your belly. It’s too soon, you think. Gwayne isn’t here. He promised he would be here.

The pain intensifies, and you know without a doubt that the babe is coming. Your maids rush to your side, their faces filled with worry as they help you to your bed. The midwives and the maester are summoned.

You grip the sheets, your knuckles turning white. “It’s too soon,” you gasp, tears streaming down your face. “Gwayne isn’t here… he isn’t here…”

The midwife shushes you gently, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Breathe, my lady. Focus on the baby. He’s eager to meet you.”

The labor is long, painful, and each moment is filled with fear.

At one point, you feel that you can’t go on, the pain too much to bear. “I can’t,” you cry out, “I can’t do this…”

“You can, my lady,” the midwife insists. “You’re strong. Your baby needs you.”

The room is full of faces, of whispers and encouragements, of hands holding yours as you push with all your strength.

Hours pass, and just when you think you have nothing left to give, you hear it. A loud cry that fills the room. The midwives wrap the tiny babe in soft blankets before placing him in your arms.

Tears stream down your face as you look down at your son cry. He’s perfect, you think.

“Maelor,” you whisper, “my sweet Maelor.”

Days pass, and the babe grows stronger, his cries filling the empty chambers that once were filled with silence. Daeron is overjoyed to meet his new brother.

“Can I hold him?” Daeron asks one afternoon, his eyes wide with excitement.

You smile, carefully placing Maelor in his small arms. “Support his head,” you instruct gently, watching as Daeron cradles the baby with surprising care.

“He’s so small,” Daeron whispers. “Will he be strong like uncle Gwayne?”

You nod, your heart filled with pride. “He will. But he’ll also have your kindness, Daeron. He’ll need you to show him how to be a good man.”

Daeron’s face lights up, and he nods eagerly. “I will. I promise.”

You watch as Daeron gently rocks Maleor, your heart warming at the sight. For a moment, the loneliness fades, replaced by the joy of watching your sons together.

But as the days turn into weeks, Geayne sends letters, each one more desperate than the last, asking about Lucerys, about you, about your health. But you can’t bring yourself to respond, the anger still too fresh.

Maelor grows, his tiny fists curling around your fingers, tugging at your hair, his eyes beginning to focus on your face. He’s beautiful, perfect in every single way, and yet every time you look at him, you’re reminded of Gwayne’s absence.

Two months pass before Gwayne finally returns. Word reaches you that he is only an hour away, but you remain in the nursery, rocking your son in your arms as you sit by the window.

Despite knowing Gwayne is coming home, you make no move to greet him at the gates.

Footsteps approach, and a moment later the door to the nursery swings open. Gwayne stands there, his eyes searching for you immediately. He takes a step inside, his gaze falling on you and the child in your arms. “My love…”

You do not look up, focusing instead on Maelor. Gwayne approaches you, dropping to his knees beside you. “Please, look at me. I am so sorry…”

You remain silent, unwilling to let your emotions show. Gwayne reaches out, placing his hand on top of yours. “I know I’ve hurt you. I never meant to be away for so long. I didn’t think it would be so… difficult.”

You glance up then, your eyes meeting his.

“I needed you,” you say quietly. “I went through the hardest moments of my life without you, Gwayne. And now… now you come back and expect everything to be as it was?”

“I do not expect that,” he says, “I know I’ve done wrong. And I can’t change what’s happened… but please, give me a chance to make it right. I want to be here for you, for our son.”

You look down at your son, your heart aching. “Maelor is already two months old,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “You’ve missed so much, Gwayne. His first smile, the way he grabs my finger when he’s hungry… you weren’t here.”

Gwayne’s breath hitches, and he finally touches Maelor’s tiny hand, his fingers trembling as they brush against the babe’s soft skin. “I know,” he whispers. “I am truly so sorry, my love. I’ve never regretted anything more in my life. Please… let me be here now. Let me be the father he deserves, the husband you deserve.”

“We’ll see,” you say quietly. “For now, all that matters is that Maelor is healthy and safe.” You pause and take a deep breath, “But… I want us to be a family, Gwayne. For Maelor and Daeron.”

Gwayne nods. “Thank you,” he whispers, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your son’s forehead. “Thank you for giving me a healthy son, my dear. I promise, I’ll spend the rest of my life making this right.”

You watch as he cradles the babe in his arms, the sight filling you with joy.

PS: I know I have to start writing for other characters, I just love this man so much 😔 So just a reminder that my requests are open 🥰🥰

#gwayne fanfic #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower fanfic #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower x you #gwayne imagine #gwayne x you #gwayne x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd x reader #ser gwayne hightower #hotd season 2 #hotd #hotd s2

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targs-on-zorses · 4 months ago

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Sweet Favours

Pairing - Gwayne Hightower/Lady-in-Waiting!Reader Warnings - Nice, hot smut, mild choking, fingering, some riding, gwayne being cocky, a little bit of fluff, tourneys and jousting, a little bit of blood, reader is not described in any detail other than being of House Mullendore of Uplands Summary - “If I might request a favour, my lady.” “Hmm, and what sort of favour would that be, good knight.” “Mayhaps, a sweet kiss from those lovely lips, dear lady.” Word count: 4732

A/N - Wow. I genuinly cannot believe I have finished this. I started it not long after Ser Gwayne Hightower graced our screens, and it is now, what? two? three weeks later? I would like to thank my hype-people: @thenameswinter99 whose reactions to my tiny excerpts made my day, @barbieaemond, Liv my partner in crime who has assisted in fanning the flames with this fic, and @just-some-random-blogger. We will continue to torture you with gifs. Accept it. This is your life now. And also to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for beta reading. Dividers are mine own. It is possible there will be a part 2. (the fic will be up on AO3 shortly. Use the link in my masterlist)

Good weather for a tourney, you thought. Nary a cloud in the sky, the bright sun beating down on the cobblestone path leading to the arena. The sounds of blades being sharpened and hammers striking on metal. There was a buzz of excitement in the air. It had been some years since Oldtown had hosted a tourney of its own. But now, the seats had been cleaned, the lords box furnished. Bunting linked building to building along the narrow streets of Oldtown.

It had been some years since you, as lady-in-waiting to Lady Lynesse Hightower, had last attended a tourney. You peeked out of the carriage, watching as people streamed towards the arena, some carrying flags in every shape and colour.

A raven had arrived from Kings Landing a month ago, bearing the news that the Queen, Alicent Hightower, cousin of your lord, had given birth to another son, Aemond Targaryen. Lord Ormund had decided to host a tourney in his honour, although none of the royals, nor their immediate vassals, were able to make it.

The carriage stopped at the entrance to the stadium. You stepped out of the carriage, graciously accepting the hand of the squire waiting, lifting your skirts to keep them out of the dirt on the streets. Your lady followed behind you.

A handsome young knight stood at the entrance. You smiled, admiring his pleasant features, the warm blue eyes, the bow shaped lips, soft golden hair.

“Good morrow, cousin,” Lady Hightower greeted.

“Good morrow, my Lady,” the knight responded. “Perfect day for a joust, is it not?”

“It is,” Lady Lynesse concurred. “I wish you luck, good cousin, at the lists.”

“Thank you, my Lady.”

Ser Gwayne bowed, stepping aside to let the lady pass.

As you passed him yourself, curtseying briefly, he put out a hand to stop you.

“A moment, Lady Mullendore.”

You followed him inside, cloistered in a hidden alcove right by the doors.

“If I might request a favour, my Lady.” He had that grin on his face that suggested his thoughts were anything but innocent. Not that the way he said ‘my Lady’ had you thinking innocent thoughts either, as you clenched your thighs together at his words.

“Hmm, and what sort of favour would that be, good knight?” you said, smiling sweetly.

“Mayhaps, a sweet kiss from those lovely lips, dear lady.”

“Oh, you are most bold, good ser,” you giggled, feeling your cheeks redden at his words. And that little smirk that he always seemed to have plastered on his face. Seven save you, you loved that smirk.

A small group of people squeezed past the opening you were concealed in. So you stretched up, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. Then you turned away to rejoin your lady.

A hand grasped your arm, pulling you back into the shadows.

“Gwayne!” you chastised. “I must return to my-”

His hand snaked around your waist, tugging you up against his body. A single finger lifted your chin, angling your face towards his, and he stared hungrily at your lips. He bit his lip, moving his hand to grasp your chin, running a thumb over your parted lips.

“Not that sort of kiss,” he whispered, seductively.

Then his lips were on yours. This was no gentle kiss, like the ones exchanged so early in the mornings. Sweet it was not. He pulled your face to his, pushing his tongue into your mouth. His hand tightened at your waist.

Your hands stretched up, tangling themselves in his soft, golden hair. Your heart pounded in time to the movements of his tongue. He tasted of the sweet wine he liked, probably drinking small amounts to calm his nerves before the joust.

He pushed forwards, backing you into a wall, completely devouring your mouth., pressing the evidence of his own arousal into your thigh. A moan escaped you. Seven save you, this kiss…

He pulled away abruptly, swiping his thumb over your lips again before departing with a satisfied smirk on his face.

He vanished so quickly, it took a moment for your body and mind to catch up. You raised a hand to your lips, remembering the passionate way he claimed them.

Voices sounded just outside, and you remembered where you were.

Lady Hightower would be looking for you. You could only pray she had no idea what you had just been doing. You straightened your skirts and hair as best you could, and made your way to the Lords’ box overlooking the arena.

“Where have you been?” she snapped as you hurriedly entered and found your seat.

“My apologies, my lady,” you muttered, but she had already looked away.

You sat in the front row. Whether that was a blessing or a curse, you did not yet know.

From here, you could see everything. You would be able to see if he was hurt. Or killed.

You did not want to dwell on it.

The knights paraded and preened. You knew half of them were not worth the armour they wore.

“The Tyrells sent a measly bunch,” Lady Lynesses muttered to another lady. You did not disagree.

“Hmm, it does not look like we will have much entertainment, my Lady,” another woman said.

You ignored them and watched as the jousts commenced. However, they were not wrong.

In the very first tilt, a young Tyrell squire not only knocked his opponent off his horse, but himself as well. Later, a Blackbar knight cuffed himself round the head with his own mace.

A measly lot indeed.

A brief lunch of venison was served. No sign of any of those veteran knights yet, though.

By the afternoon, you were bored. The morning had been relatively uneventful, lunch equally so. You were eager for the new round of tilts to begin. And to see who would be crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty.

A few unimpressive knights rode out, bashing each other.

Finally, he rode out, sat proud atop that big black horse of his. His helmet was off, tucked under his arm, letting his golden hair shine in the sunlight. He held his lance in the other hand, meaning all that kept him on that horse were those strong thighs of his. You flushed, thinking of how it felt to have those thighs under you as you rode him into oblivion.

He rode twice around the arena, scanning the crowds. His eyes searched for you. Finally, he stopped in front of the box, beckoning you over with a movement of his head. You stood to lean against the barrier keeping you from falling onto the sand below.

“May I ask that you grant me your favour, Lady Mullendore?” he said, a graceful smile dancing across his face. You did not see the sour look Lady Hightower directed at you.

“Unfortunately, good ser, my favour is only given to those who will win,” you teased.

“Then I suppose it is a good thing I will win this tourney, then, my Lady,” he assured.

You giggled, taking your favour from the arm of your chair. He tilted his lance towards you and you dropped the favour along its length. He nodded his head in thanks and rode off again.

He prepared himself for the first tilt, putting on his silly helmet - you always giggled when he wore it.

His opponent prepared himself similarly, some knight of House Florent. A cousin, perhaps?

You held your breath as they charged towards each other. You knew Gwayne had been injured previously in jousts. He was well now, but still, you worried.

You wanted to look away, but you could not tear your gaze away from these two men, charging towards each other, lances held at the ready.

There was a crack, and the Florent knight went flying off his horse, landing with his legs at strange angles on the ground.

Gwayne rode a victory lap as the young knight was carried off to the maester’s tent.

As his next opponent struggled to get on his horse, Gwayne nodded to you, promising you victory.

He unhorsed every opponent he faced with practised ease. Downing the ones that dared to try for victory on the ground. He certainly was bashed a few times, almost, almost, downed from his horse at others. But today it seemed the Gods themselves too had blessed him with their favour.

The final tilt, however, you would deny you were terrified. For now he faced your own uncle, Ser Paxton Mullendore, a hardened veteran of many a battle and many a tourney. In fact, he was near undefeated, and would tell anyone who would listen that the only man to successfully unhorse him had been Daemon Targaryen at the Heirs Tourney some years ago. Gwayne too had been there, and Daemon too had unhorsed him.

Suffice to say, you feared for him.

You could see Ser Paxton glaring at him, and the favour on his lance. He knew it was yours, and he was displeased.

Ser Paxton pulled down his visor and charged. Gwayne too. You gripped the hands of your chair tightly, hardly daring to breathe.

The crash of lance on shield. Gwayne barely clung to his horse, his lance in pieces.

They went in for a second charge.

Another crash.

This time it was Ser Paxton who fell. He immediately called for his sword. His pride would not allow Gwayne to win so easily. In fact, he often boasted of how he was better with his sword than atop a horse. Ser Paxton wielded a mighty mace, the sort of one you had seen bend swords and smash armour such that it looked as though a dragon had landed on their chests.

You clung tighter to the decorative arms of your chair, eyes wide and fearful.

Gwayne did not notice, still holding his shield, arms wide and savouring his victory.

Paxton swung his mace.

“Gwayne!” you screamed. He turned to find a mace flying towards his head and ducked at the last moment.

Your relief was short-lived, as Paxton swung again, shattering Gwayne’s shield to splinters, your brave knight falling to the floor.

He dodged again and again, crawling towards the wooden barrier in the middle.

As Paxton smashed through the fence, Gwayne stuck his foot out, tripping up the large, mace-wielding man.

Ser Paxton fell to the ground unmoving. You gasped, staring in horror even as the crowd cheered. Even Gwayne was concerned, his fingers digging through the neck piece, trying to find a pulse.

Suddenly, Paxton jerked, sitting up. You breathed a sigh of relief. He and Gwayne seemed to talk for a moment before the latter pulled the former to his feet.

You smiled and clapped, overjoyed that both were alive.

Gwayne helped your uncle to the maesters, before mounting his horse once again for a victory lap. He was handed back his lance, now adorned with the wreath of yellow roses, the colours of House of Tyrell, their overlords.

He galloped twice around again, the ladies whispering to themselves, “Who will he choose?” He finally stopped in front of you, angling his lance such that the wreath slid down into your lap.

Suddenly, every eye was on you. Murmurs spread around the stadium. Gwayne still sat atop his horse below you, giving a gentle smile and an encouraging nod.

You ignored the hiss of displeasure from Lady Hightower, and raised the flower crown, placing it on your head. The crowd cheered and clapped, and Ser Gwayne bowed before riding away to have his own wounds seen to.

The tourney over, the audience gathered themselves and prepared to leave.

You rushed off, partly to avoid whatever withering words the other ladies-in-waiting had to say to you, but mostly to avoid the wrath of Lady Lynesse Hightower. The look on her face as you had been crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty was one you hoped to never see again.

You had arrived in Oldtown at ten, ready to serve Lady Lynesse as a lady-in-waiting. But from the moment you were introduced to her by your father, Lord Mullendore, she had shown nothing but contempt that bordered on hatred for you.

When your father presented you, she had her nose up at you and said, “Well, I was not expecting her to be so… plain. I was told you were a great beauty. Perhaps you will grow into one.”

But, according to her, you could do nothing right. In the halls of the Hightower, you were alone and friendless. The other ladies followed Lynesse’ lead and scorned you. You missed your home, Uplands. You missed your family, your father, your mother, your brothers, and uncle Paxton, although he visited often. You sought companionship in the books in Oldtown’s many libraries. You engrossed yourself in the history and giggled as you read books like A Caution for Young Girls as you read it in the privacy of your chambers.

It was when you were eight-and-ten that you attracted the attention of Ser Gwayne Hightower, your Lady’s cousin and the son of King Viserys’ Hand.

Initially, you had waved it off as just some silly pacing fancy, after all, knights had that all the time. After all, as your lady said, cruelly, “What man could possibly want such a plain girl as you?”

But he was honest in his interest, and the two of you began to court, secretly of course. Lady Hightower would have a fit, and she was most fond of suggesting other women for him, though he always refused.

It was on the night of your twentieth name day that he took you into his bed. He was careful, and gentle, and everything you had imagined and more. The both of you knew Lady Hightower would never let you wed, so these stolen, secret moments were all you had.

You loved him, you knew it. How could you not when he was gentle, and kind, and every bit the knight he was painted to be?

What you did not know, however, was if he felt the same about you. He may call you, “my love,” but that was not the same.

You quietly made your way to Gwayne’s chambers. It would not do if you were caught together. Lady Hightower would use it as an excuse to get rid of you. It simply was not worth the same and disgrace that would fall on your family.

Today, he had already gone too far. You intended to tell him as much. Kissing you just before the tourney in an alcove where anyone could’ve peeked in and seen you? Crowning you Queen of Love and Beauty in front of thousands?

Perhaps, though, you would scold him after you lay with him. As dangerous as that kiss was, it had left you unsatisfied and wanting for more. And it would butter him up and make him more agreeable to slowing down.

You walked in, expecting to find the room empty, only to see Gwayne standing with his back to the door, sipping some wine. You spotted his armour peeking out of a chest to the side of the wine table.

He turned as the door closed, his eyes darkening as he beheld the low dress you wore. You had been tugging it down as you made your way here.

He was still wearing his green woollen tunic that he wore under his armour. The buckles were undone, as was the loose linen shirt he wore under that.

He took another sip of wine, tilting his head as he admired you. He placed the glass back on the table, and took a step towards you.

You were withering under his heated gaze, but you stood firm. He liked to tease. Now it was your turn.

“I was going to wait for you,” you said, the corners of your plush lips lifting flirtatiously. “I was thinking I’d lay naked in your bed.”

Gwayne smirked. “Such a shame, then, that I’m already here. It would have been a most delectable sight to behold.”

That way he said delectable, pronouncing every syllable, had you biting your lip an effort not to moan. A wave of need coursed through you..

He stepped towards you again, still giving you that smirk that made you want to rip your clothes off and let him give you exactly what you longed for.

“Perhaps I’ll leave and come back later, leave early from the feast,” you whispered, all desire to tease rushing out of you. You did not know how much longer you could keep this up.

“It would be a shame if you had to walk all the way back down, leaving me here alone and wanting for you,” he rasped, his voice going deep with desire.

“Like the way you left me earlier.” You tried not to moan as you felt his breath on your neck.

“Would you touch yourself while naked in my bed?” he hummed, a hand ghosting over your cheek. “Would you pleasure yourself, imagining that it was my cock that brought you to peak?”

You no longer knew words. Seven save you from this man and his vile tongue that made you feel nothing but insatiable lust.

“And would I then arrive, finding you covered in a sheen of sweat, and then would I plunge myself inside your sweet cunt until the only thing you can remember is my name?”

You let out a whine at his words. He teased you relentlessly, barely touching you. You reached out to grasp his solid arms, trying to pull him closer. You wanted him to touch you, badly.

“Gwayne,” you whine, the heated tension becoming unbearable.

“Yes, sweet lady?” he says, licking his lips. “Is it all too much, this teasing? Not unlike the way you have teased me all day wearing a dress such as this.” He tugs on the laces on the front of your dress making you gasp. “What is it, my love?” he says as he ghosts his lips over your neck again. You let out an aching whine. You were desperate for him to do anything, anything but keep on talking. “What? You want me to stop?” he says. Yes. You wanted him to stop teasing you with his filthy words. You wanted him to push you on his bed and strip you of your restrictive clothing. You wanted him to fuck you mercilessly until all you know is his cock. He chuckled darkly, seeing your pained expression. “Look at you, so needy.” You whimpered again. He finished unlacing your gown, finding you wearing no corset or smallclothes underneath it. You gulped, feeling the sensitive tips of your breasts brush against the cloth of your dress with every breath. “Oh, you naughty lady, wearing nothing under such a dress.”

You give up. You can’t take it anymore. You need to touch him. You need him to touch you. You grab his face between your hands and pull it to yours. The kiss is messy and filthy, and oh so terribly brief. He pushed you off him, holding your face between his hands, panting just as wildly as you. You whined desperately, straining to pull him back

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he growled.

Then he pounced. He tore the dress off your shoulder letting your breasts free. He gripped your face and pulled your lips back together. He shoved his tongue into your mouth, hot and wet. You shimmied out of your dress, leaving yourself bare. He cupped his hands around your behind, squeezing as he lifted you up and spread your legs around his waist. You ground against his clothed cock, sighing into his mouth as little sparks of bliss shot through you.

He carried you to the bed, divesting himself of his tunic, still continuing his relentless assault of your mouth. He withdrew gently, a stark contrast to the violent way he had kissed you, resting his forehead on yours.

“Touch me,” you whispered, tugging at his shirt, silently begging him to take it off.

He ignored your tugs, and latched his lips to the peak of your breast, as his hand worked its way between your legs, gently brushing your pearl. You moaned loudly, fingers clenching the silk sheet beneath. His fingers were pure heaven. You pulled again at his shirt, as his fingers entered your cunt, opening you up for him, skillfully brushing the spot inside you that made you keen. You clutched his arms, your nails digging into the flesh leaving angry red marks.

“Fuck, my love, you feel so good and wet,” he panted, trailing hot, wet kisses to your neck. “Fuck yourself on my fingers, sweet lady.”

And you did. You rode them, broken moans and whimpers spilled out of you. Your peak washed over you quickly, his fingers pumping in and out of you, drawing it out.

He didn’t give you long to recover from the intensity of your peak. He allowed you to pull his shirt off, revelling in the pale expanse of muscle, and the few scars that litter his chest and stomach. You pressed a few kisses to the ones on his chest before he pushed you back down and started untying his breeches.

“Keep yourself wet for me, sweet lady. Touch yourself.”

You moaned, doing as he says and letting your fingers gather up the wetness from your centre, preparing yourself for him.

He pushed his breeches down revealing his beautiful cock, hard and red. You took your hand, slick with your juices and pumped him a few times. But when you went to put it inside, he stopped you, sitting up further, leaving his cock far away from where you craved to sheethe it.

“Ah ah ah,” he tutted. “Only good, sweet ladies get to be fucked. Have you been good, sweet lady?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “Please, Gwayne, please, I've been good.”

He continued to stroke his cock, right in front of you. You groaned. He so loved to torment you like this. “Have you? Really?”

“I've been good, Ser. Please, let me have your cock, Ser!” You babbled, delirious with need, your hands reaching out for him.

“Hmm, I suppose you have been,” He said, and suddenly leaned forward and slid his cock into your drenched cunt.

You moaned in unison. The walls of your cunt stretched to accommodate him. Gwayne was by no means large, but he always seemed to fill you up perfectly. It was heaven, finally having him inside.

He gave you a moment to adjust, waiting for you to nod that you were comfortable, before he seized a hand, holding it above your head and pounded into you, mercilessly.

Your breasts bounced, brushing your sensitive nipples on his chest. Wanton moans spilled out of you now. Every thrust of his cock hit the perfect spot inside you.

“That's it,” he whispered into your ear, lightly biting the flesh below it. “You feel so good, my dear, squeezing my cock like that.”

All coherent words had left you, and you could only babble in agreement.

“Gods you feel so good, such a sweet, wet little cunt.”

Your moans grew louder, and you clung hard to his shoulders. You probably left nail marks in his back, but you were too lost in your pleasure to care.

The walls of your cunt fluttered, signifying that you were close. Your moans became louder and higher in pitch.

“That's it, sweetness,” Gwayne grunted, shifting so he could watch your face as you came. “Come for me, right on my cock.”

He brought a hand between you, rubbing your pearl.

Your walls clenched around him as you screamed, you back arching.

He wrapped a hand around your neck, holding you down as he fucked you through your peak, his own quickly following as he spilled inside you.

He collapsed on the bed next to you.

You both lay there for a moment, catching your breath. You rolled over to look at him. He never looked more beautiful than he did in this moment. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead and chest. His bow shaped lips were parted. His chest heaved.

You loved him. There was nothing else. You loved how he looked in the moments after.

You lay on your sides, facing each other. Your hands entwined as you stared deep into each other's eyes. His were blue, like the sea, and always glinted with mischief.

“I have something for you,” he rasped. His voice was always delightfully husky after you fucked. You loved it, and the way it left you wanting for more.

“Gwayne,” you sighed, “we can’t.”

This was a rule established early on, no gifts to be exchanged, and today, he’d already broken it, gifting you the flower crown.

“No one will know it was from me,” he insisted. You took one look at his pouty face, his eyes wide and pleading. He knew how to make you melt, and melt you did. He just looked so sad, like a puppy pleading for pets.

“Fine,” you conceded.

He smiled wide, and rolled over to grab something from the bedside table. He brought out a box. It was wide and flat, covered in green leather with silver hinges and clasp.

You sat up a little, leaning on your elbow, and took the box from him.

You opened the box and gasped. Inside was the most exquisite necklace you’d ever seen.

The shape of it reminded you of how the beacon on the Hightower looked when alight. Green emeralds the size of your thumbs arranged in three seven pointed stars connected to a chain of intricate silver swirls. The two stars on either side of the middle contained a ruby at their hearts, while the centre one, and the larger of the three, framed a diamond, larger than any you had ever seen.

“Oh, Gwayne, it’s beautiful.”

He smiled. “Let me help you put it on, my love.”

You turned slightly, lifting your hair as he clasped it around your neck. You turned back to look at him, adjusting the way it lay across your chest.

“Hmm,” he hummed, openly staring at the way the centre charm sat right between your breasts, pointing downwards. “I think I rather like it too.”

You giggled, trying to ignore the heat that spread through your body at his words, and his gaze. You could now understand why it was designed the way it was.

“I think I’d like to fuck you wearing that necklace,” he said. “Hmm, perhaps I’d like you to ride me, so I can watch it bounce on those pretty breasts of yours.”

You bit your lip at his filthy words, heat already pooling in your gut.

He gripped your hips, and you squealed as he lifted you onto his thighs, cock half hard already.

He plunged his hand between your legs, groaning at the feeling of your wetness.

“Ride me, my sweet lady,” he commanded.

You gave his cock a good few pumps, before you sunk down, moaning at the stretch. His hands dug into your hips as you began to move, circling your hips.

You went slowly at first. Gwayne seemed to groan in frustration at your pace. You grinned, knowing how much you teased him now.

“I do not think this is quite riding me, sweet lady,” Gwayne grunted beneath you. He smacked your behind, the sharp pain and pleasure of it making you cry out. “Come now, love, ride me. Fuck yourself on my cock and let me watch those gorgeous sweet tits of yours.”

You did as he commanded, quickening your pace and truly fucking yourself on him.

Your tits bounced, the necklace clinking with the movement. You moaned, relishing in the way his cock felt.

He reached his hand up, cupping your bouncing breasts and letting your vigorous movements rub your sensitive nipples on his thumb.

Your walls clenched around him. Your peak was approaching, fast.

“That's it, love,” he groaned. “Fuck!”

You threw your head back as your peak washed over you, your pace stuttering as you attempted to ride him through it.

He gripped your hips and rutted into you, a fourth peak closing in so soon after the last.

You peaked, feeling his seed coat the walls of your cunt as you screamed his name and collapsed on his chest.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #ser gwayne hightower #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower smut #gwayne x reader smut #gwayne hightower x you #gwayne smut #hotd smut #hotd x reader #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon x reader #gwayne hightower

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arcielee · 4 months ago

Text

A night of pleasure.

Paring: Ser Gwayne Hightower x Female!Reader Word Count: 1.7k+ Warnings: AFAB Reader, the newest Hightower serving cunt, dom flare perhaps?, oral (m receiving), p in v, edging, masturbation with a sprinkle of voyeurism Author’s Note: This is a slight alternative of Baela not noticing them, so Gwayne and his merry men could tell Crispy to fuck off and they found that place off of Rosby Road. Thank you my Tumblr kindred spirits who helps me brainstorm, and a huge thank you to my beloved @aemondsbabe who beta read and helped me make sense of this smutty smut.

You awaited in a row with the other girls who had been called down by your Madam for review. It was often on behalf of some big bellied lord who was traveling along Rosby Road, who would choose which one he would take his pleasure from with sweaty grunts and moans, but tonight was different.

The honorable guest in question was Ser Gwayne Hightower; he walked the line with a smirk playing on his lips and his eyebrow arched with his scrutiny that came in-hand with his privilege. He was undeniably handsome though, with copper tones against alabaster skin and a dusting of freckles you only noticed when he finally paused in front of you.

You straightened enough, poised for display, burning as his gaze relished over your figure. The murky cobalt blue of his eyes darkened with his smile.

“I want her.”

Tonight you are the envy of the other girls. You can feel your thighs tensing with your anticipation as you follow him into the room. You remained by the door, watching as he pulled his tunic over his head; your eyes washed over him, admiring the muss of his red hair to the pale planes of his chiseled chest.

He caught you staring, another smirk on his pink lips. “You should undress,” he said, more a command than a request.

You burned under his heady stare, your fingers quick to unlace your gown and allowing it to puddle at your feet. Your cream chemise underneath was sheer with the candlelight of the room, an amber glow that poured over you both.

He moved closer towards you, his hand moving to cup your cunt and feeling through the cloth that covered it; you were bare beneath, your heat already pooling into his touch, and he hummed his satisfaction. He leaned closer, his breath hot in the shell of your ear. “This as well, pretty girl,” he said and his words bolted through you; you removed it, completely bare before him.

“Now on your knees,” he gave the husky command and you sank to the floor at once, looking up at him through your lashes. “Good girl.”

Your eyes fell to his waist and you could truly understand his arrogance that was heavy between his thighs. He wore his breeches low on his hips with a tease of golden hair that dipped towards the thick outline that pressed from his crotch. Your fingers trembled to touch, but he gave another hum of encouragement which emboldened you to loosen the laces and pull out his cock.

Ser Gwayne was kinder than most. His virtue was his patience as he watched your wonder. You gave a tentative lick and a kiss at the base; he throbbed as your tongue curled underneath, following up towards his swollen cockhead. You could taste the salt of him and you shifted, moving slowly to take him inch-by-inch until your nose pressed against his lower abdomen.

He groaned, something that vibrated through you, and his hand rested on the nape of your neck, not forcing you but also keeping you in place. His hips bucked and your fingers bit into his thighs, your eyes watering from the lack of air, and only then does he release his hold.

You coughed, tears streaming down your cheeks, and you saw his satisfaction blatant on his beautiful face; your thighs clenched, your body betraying you. You spit on your palm and your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock again as your mouth moved to reclaim his length, your wet gag mixing with another guttural groan from him. His hips rutted against your face as you slurped and sucked; you were quick to find a tandem with his thrusts, his cock throbbing against your tongue.

He pulled away from you. “Get on the bed.”

Another command that you are eager to follow, a slick already spilling between your thighs. You sat yourself on the edge, your thighs plush and your arms rigid at your sides, waiting.

He moved towards you with deliberate steps that gave a lewd sway to his cock, shining with your spit. Your mouth watered, eyes blown, and you looked up when he chuckled. His finger curled under your chin, tilting your head back further to meet with his heady gaze. “You seem almost desperate for more,” he observed with another smile.

Before you could answer him, he pushed you back, his hands wrapping around your ankles and propping your feet against his chest, folding you in half into the mattress.

You tucked your chin to your chest, watching his hand guide himself, following your silken slit before he slowly sank into you. You moaned and your hands moved under your hips, canting to try and accommodate his size that was splitting you in half.

He paused once he was fully sheathed, a low groan pulling from the back of his throat with how you fit around him. He was flushed, rose and golden in the lighting, a lustful black swallowing the color of his eyes when he looked down at you. He moved, his hands pressing into the back of your knees to balance himself as he began to fuck you into the bed.

You were panting with his brutal pace, your hands knotting into the sheets. His hips snapped against you, filling you with a passion that builds in your core. You dared to lift your hand, your fingers flitting to touch the bloom of nerves above your entrance; it was a trill of pleasure before being stopped suddenly.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?”

You felt cold with his words. He pulled away, perched at the end of the bed, his cock red and glistening as he watched you. You clenched around nothing, spilling and staining into the linen from the tease of pleasure that now aching through your bones. “Please, ser, I did not mean to offend–”

His hand wrapped around your ankle and he pulled you back towards the edge. It does not take much for him to move you until your torso was pressed against the mattress, your knees touching the floor. You felt his weight pressed to your back with a heat that had you squirming, and he chuckled. “You have not earned that yet,” he said, blowing softly in your ear.

Gooseflesh rippled over your skin with your pitiful mewled response, your hips wiggling for friction. Ser Gwayne tuts, pulling away, and his one hand gripped onto your hip to hold you still. You tensed as you felt his cockhead dragging through your silken folds, coating himself before he moved to fill you once again.

The new angle sparked something at the bottom of your spine with flames that prickled across your backside as his stroke went deeper and deeper. Your hips bucked back, meeting with his building motion, and his hands bruised into your hips with his brutal pace, the wet smack of skin-to-skin as he fucked you.

You clawed at the sheets, your mouth falling open, a wordless plea for release that was trilling to your nerve endings and teasing you once again. As your velvet walls began to flutter, he hissed, pulling back to pump himself to completion; you could feel his pearly spend spilling on your arse.

You wished to bury your face and cry, your body thrumming for a release that you were denied again. Your palms pressed to wearily push yourself upright, turning to look at him.

Ser Gwayne was standing, already tucking himself away. The brilliant blue of his eyes returned with a shine that looked you over. “Do you feel you have earned it, pet?”

He was teasing you, his lips ticking upwards. Your thighs clenched again, your head nodding. “Then you may now touch yourself.” His tongue clicked at the end, and your eyes widened. You were rooted until he spoke, “I will not tell you again.”

You scrambled to lay back onto the bed, uncaring of how his sticky spend seeped into the sheets. You grabbed for the pillows to lie against and you spread your legs for his show. Ser Gwayne was rapt to watch from the end of the bed, almost stoic as his eyes settled onto you. You do not look away, bringing your fingers to your lips and suckling before they dropped below to touch yourself, just as he commanded.

His jaw ticked with your salacious gesture, which was mostly unneeded as you were still wet and wanting, but it allowed a genial glide for your fingers to find your pearl. Your blood rose to the surface, beckoned by his bold stare and by your precise touch that uprooted the abandoned pleasure that had been pulsing earlier. Your fingers circled to pull a low moan, and his eyes fluttered at the vision you made: so pliant and plush, so very obedient.

“Just like that,” he rasped, his eyes unable to tear away. His hands flexed at his side, blood pouring until his cock was half-hard. “Let me hear you.”

You licked your lips, your moans spilling louder as your fingers continued, returning you back to tip you over that precipice with a honeyed burst of passion, pulsing thick onto your hand. It comes as a sobbed release, your chest heaving to catch your breath with how it shattered throughout; you melt into the mattress, boneless.

“Let me taste you.”

You opened your eyes, wet lashes clumped together, to see the gentleman gone to madness; he kneeled between your thighs, his fingers dimpling with his hold on you. His head dipped, a deep breath and a murmured, “Heavenly,” that tickled your skin. He placed an intimate kiss to the blossomed bundle of nerves. You cried out, your thighs tightening to a vice around his head, and he groaned against your wet cunt.

Ser Gwayne pulled back to look at you, his eyes lust-blown, and moved up to capture your mouth for a first kiss, stained with your tart taste that glossed his soft lips.

“You did so well for me,” he praised, nestling against you for another kiss. It was deeper this time, his tongue curling to your own, and your pulse began to flutter in your veins, your passion renewed. “I have decided that I will be keeping you to myself, all night.”

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#house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #ser gwayne hightower #ser gwayne hightower x you #ser gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x you #gwayne hightower x reader #afab reader

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sublimitymp3 · 4 months ago

Text

Pray for me

Pairing ✵ Gwayne Hightower/Niece!reader

Warnings ✵ Hotd season 2 spoilers, incest, littleee bit of crybaby!reader, smut (frottage, oral F receiving, fingering, and slight dacryphilia), and religious themes

Word count ✵ 2.5k

Summary ✵ Your uncle Gwayne arrives from Oldtown at your brother's call, and pays a visit to you while you pray.

"Your mother told me I might find you in here,"

You whipped your head around to see the source of the voice that disturbed you from your prayers and saw none other than your uncle, Ser Gwayne Hightower. He had finally come from Oldtown, answering your brother's call for assistance in his war.

"It is the seventh day, I thought I ought to pray. Especially now..." You explain with a small smile. You stood from your kneeling position on the cold, unyielding sept floor so you may look upon him. Your face twists into a cringe as you feel the bruises from kneeling for so long begin to form on your knees, and you are sure they'll be an ugly purple color later. Relaxing your features, you finally turn on your heel to face your uncle. It has been so long since you've seen him.

Too long.

He's as handsome as you remember, with his auburn hair, pale blue eyes, and the faint freckles that dust his face. How you wished you could map kisses along those freckles, connecting them with a trail of where your lips had been. But your faith and virtue prevent you from giving in to the desire. Besides, you are sure that if he ever found out you ever thought such things, he'd look at you with such revulsion that you'd crumble to the floor in shame.

He steps closer to you, tucking a stray hair behind your ear tenderly. "You have your mother's beauty, but your father's features," he hums, tweaking your nose playfully before wrapping you in a firm hug. It is not lost on you the slight curt tone his voice took on at the mention of your late father, but you dismiss it.

"And tell me, how have you been fairing during these trying times, hm? Don't tell me you hole yourself up in this sept all day." He teases, bringing a feeling of embarrassment over you for he had guessed correctly. Recently, you do spend the brunt of your days at the sept, praying to almost every facet of the Seven for mercy, strength, wisdom, and safety. Today, you were praying at the statue of the Mother, and after you lit a candle for her altar, you prayed for mercy and protection for your family members. It is one of the few things that brings you comfort nowadays, your faith in the Seven who are One.

"Well, there isn't much I can do," you shrug, letting a small frown tug at your lips. "It's not like I can sit in on a council meeting, and mother refuses to let me on my dragon. She seems perfectly content in keeping me idle and useless," you remark with a tone of annoyance, one that draws a low laugh from your uncle.

"Your mother means well, sweet niece. You're better suited here, getting favor from the gods as opposed to being in the midst of battle. Believe me, it is a bloody, nasty affair, and you are far too delicate to join in," he grips your chin in between his forefinger and his thumb, keeping your lilac gaze trained on his ocean-blue eyes.

You cannot even think of a response to his dismissing words, as you are too busy trying to push away the familiar ache you get between your thighs. It always comes at the most inconvenient of times, like when you watch the men in the training yard move, sweaty and shirtless, or when you spy on your brother coupling with a serving girl. All you know is that it persists for ages, and no amount of praying stops it.

But you can only try.

"S-Shall we pray, uncle? So that the Mother may grant us safety, of course," you propose, shifting nervously on your feet. Perhaps it is the light flush that has appeared on your face, or how you try to discreetly press your thighs together for some form of relief, but Gwayne knows. He always knows.

To save yourself some embarrassment, you resume your kneeling position before the statue and altar of the Mother, clasping your hands together in the standard praying position. You expect your uncle to kneel beside you, or just leave the sept all together, so you are quite surprised when you feel him loom behind you.

His firm chest swiftly presses against your back, and his larger and calloused hands come to rest over your softer ones, and you find yourself trapped in this embrace. Whether it is to your delight or misfortune, you cannot decide. You squeeze your eyes shut and silently beg for forgiveness for the unseemly thoughts that run through your brain at his actions. 'Who thinks such perverse things in a holy place?' you think, mentally chastising yourself.

"Well, go on then, sweet one. Pray for me," he whispers, and you can feel his breath fanning against the shell of your ear. Gwayne is enjoying this, enjoying this little game of denial you two play. Of course, it is wrong for him to want to take you in the lewdest positions, to have you scream his name so everyone knows who is fucking you so good, but he has restrained himself all this time. Patience is a great virtue, yes, but he wishes to reap his reward for remaining ever so patient now.

"M-Mother Above, have mercy on us all. I beg you for your protection, and for you to-" you cut yourself off with a gasp as your uncle buries his face into the crook of your neck, and gently nips at the soft skin there. He begins pressing himself against your ass, making your cheeks flush even more.

Noticing your sudden pause, he pulls back to look at your blushing face with a devilish smirk. "Well? Go on, don't mind me," he says before going right back to nipping and sucking at your neck. It is impossible for you to stay concentrated on your prayers as he continues, and you resign to praying in your head as your words fail you.

Your prayers only falter as you feel something hard poking against your backside, prodding and bumping against you relentlessly. Gwayne begins peppering kisses from your neck and to your jawline before tugging your head back gently, and letting his lips brush against yours. He only pauses as you tilt your head a little bit away in reluctance.

"U-Uncle, this is wrong. N-Not here, we cannot do this-"

"Shh, enough with that. It isn't wrong, not in the slightest. It's not wrong, not when you're meant for me. Surely even the gods will understand," he mumbles against the softness of your lips. You feel in that little moment of pause that his are a bit chapped, most likely from days of riding on horseback and camping in the wilderness. But it matters little then.

Once his lips are on yours, you cannot help the cascade of little moans that leaves you. His mouth is overwhelming and easily overpowers your rather inexperienced one, and you feel his hands move from their position over yours. One hand moves to your neck, and the other to your breast, fondling it through your dress as he continues humping you from behind.

You are thankful the sept is empty today. If word of what you do now reached your mother, of the depravity you partake in with her own brother, you're sure she'd have you sent far away to become a septa.

With a final peck to your lips, your uncle stands. He drinks in the sight of you like this; cheeks flushed, hair a bit messy, clothes rumpled, and swollen lips, all from him, of course. He swears then and there he's never seen a more beautiful sight.

"Up you go, princess," he mumbles, before picking you up with ease and setting you to sit on the edge of the altar. He messily pushes away the candles and various offerings left there to make room for you, and you cringe at the disrespect, disrespect born from lust and hastiness.

The new position allows for you to be relatively level with his face, and he soon hikes your dress up and stands between your parted thighs. As he begins to rub his erection against your clothed cunt, you grab onto his forearms to ground yourself.

His erection rubs against your dampened smallclothes, brushing against your bud and your folds. With each grind of his hips, you feel something like a fire burning through your bones. But with your clothes acting like a barrier, and the slightly awkward angle, it's not enough for you. Even with your unfamiliarity to such actions, you still know it is not enough.

"M-More, more. Uncle, I need more." you whine, pulling him closer by the laces of his breeches, eliciting a sly smirk from him.

"Well well, I never thought I'd see the day where my own niece was begging for me like a whore." he teases, making you frown at the crude and cruel word.

A cruel word indeed, and you feel the familiar sensation of your eyes watering, and your nose instinctively sniffling. Gwayne's smirk falters for a moment as he watches little tears spill from your eyes, but only for a moment.

"Aw, come now sweet girl, don't take offense. It was all in good fun, yes?" he coos to you, and you feel him begin to lick your tears away, catching the salty evidence of your crying on his tongue. "But oh, darling one, how pretty you look when you cry. Are you gonna cry more with what I do to you, little princess?" he asks with a mocking little pout, before kissing back down your neck.

You've always been a bit of a sensitive girl, everyone knows this. The smallest hint of frustration or anger to you, or even words spoken to you all in jest send you easily into tears. What you were not expecting was for them to be met with something other than the typical annoyed shushing you are used to receiving when you begin to cry.

Soon, Gwayne is kneeling before you, and pulling your wet smallclothes down. His lips pepper light kisses along your soft inner thighs, teasing you once more. "So wet...all for me, little princess?" he asks before nudging his nose against your bud, making you jolt with pleasure. He inhales your sweet scent. 'The scent of a wet virgin', he thinks crudely to himself.

You keep yourself propped up with your arms, and you look down at him between your thighs. Both of your legs have been thrown over his shoulders, and the instinct to wiggle your core closer to him grows. With a knowing gaze, Gwayne looks up at you with a smirk, before his tongue darts out and he dives in.

He eats you like a starved man.

His tongue licks stripes along your core, lapping up your arousal hungrily. His mouth works expertly, and all you can do is sit there helplessly and moan. Your little squeals and high-pitched whines sound adorable to him, and he laughs against your cunt. The vibrations, of course, make you jump again.

"My my, little niece, aren't you quite the sensitive one? Is your cunny as sensitive as your heart, hm?" he teases, as he continues to lick and suckle you. You cannot respond, too incapacitated by the pleasure his mouth brings you. It is nothing like you've ever felt before. Even your pillow or your hands don't feel as good as this.

"U-Uncle, uncle Gwayne, it feels s'good," you practically babble out as the lewd sounds of him slurping against you echoes around the sept. Your hand comes down to grip at his auburn hair, tugging him closer to your cunt. You care not anymore if this depravity is sullying a holy place, or if the gods watch with disapproval. There's always time to repent, after all.

The little pain you yanking his hair brings him makes him groan against your puffy folds, adding only to the stimulation you feel. "Yeah? Feels good? Oh, baby, you have no idea..." he murmurs, leaving you a little confused at his choice of words.

But you soon find out what exactly he means.

His mouth moves to focus only on your sensitive bud, sucking on it gently while he introduces two fingers to your wet folds. His fingers dance along your slit, dragging up and down in a slow, almost torturous manner.

You cry and squirm against him, greedily pushing his face right against your cunt. He heeds your signal, and finally pushes his fingers inside your velvety walls.

The stretch and feeling of something penetrating you are new and utterly foreign, but with the added stimulation his mouth still gives, the uncomfortableness of it all soon washes away to make room for pleasure. He begins pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly, careful to not hurt you as he works you open.

Once he is sure you are ready, only then does he move his fingers faster. Your thighs squeeze around his head with the intensity of it all, and he has to wrench them back apart. "I can't move if you're trying to block me, sweetling," he chuckles, earning a sheepish "sorry" from you.

As he continues his ministrations, his fingers finally brush against and find that spongy sweet spot hidden up you. He begins to nudge against it with his fingertips, making you gush your arousal all over his face. You've never felt such an intense and yet wonderful feeling in your life, and soon you find it all beginning to build up and crescendo.

His free hand massages and strokes your hips gently, and rubs circles over your belly a little, just to soothe you. He can feel your walls tightening up, and how your thighs tremble and shake around his head. "You can do it, baby, you can do it. Go on, sweet niece," he coos, finally sending you over the edge.

With a loud cry, you tremble and feel such intense pleasure crashing over you like the waves during a tumultuous seastorm. You chant his name, worshipping him as if he were a god.

Once your peak washes over you, you slump against the base of the statue of the Mother. Gwayne promptly stands, his mouth and chin dripping with your juices. "You're the sweetest thing I've ever tasted. Perhaps I should have you every night instead of wine." he smiles, before thumbing stray tears that rest on your flushed cheeks away.

He wipes his mouth with his forearm, before kissing you once more. You can taste yourself on your tongue. "I have to go now, sweet one. Pray to the gods for me, will you? And when I come back, we can pray together again. Wouldn't you like that?" he grins, cupping your face in his hands.

A knowing smile forms on your kiss-swollen lips as you understand the insinuations of his words. As he rides off to fight your brother's war, you will remain praying in the sept, longing for the day he will return and come to pray with you again.

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#house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower smut #ser gwayne hightower #hotd smut #gwayne hightower fanfic #gwayne hightower fanfiction

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seafarersdream · 3 months ago

Note

Heck yeah Freddie Fox!!!!what if reader plays Gwayne and Alicent sister, but their chemistry is sooooo good that the creators had to cut their scenes together because "they're Hightowers, not Targaryens"🤣🤣🤣and the cast are having the time of their lives with that

Me and the Devil (Freddie Fox x Y/N)

Y/N L/N, who stars as Lady Eleanor Hightower, has an absolutely electric chemistry with her on-screen brother, Freddie Fox, who plays Ser Gwayne Hightower, much to the amusement and exasperation of the HOTD cast and crew.

TW // Strong language and profanities, incestuous undertones, sexual tension and innuendos.

The sun was rising behind the walls of the Red Keep, casting long, creeping shadows over the Outer Courtyard. Lady Eleanor Hightower, clad in the deep, grieving olive of her house, stood with an air of weary grace beside her sister, Dowager Queen Alicent. Her face was a picture of calm, though her eyes were heavy with the sorrow of loss and the weight of recent weeks.

“Do you think he’ll bring that dreadful horse again?” Eleanor asked, her voice soft but dripping with that sharp edge she never quite lost, even in mourning.

Alicent’s lips twitched, but she held her composure. "If he does, I’ll have it stabled outside the walls. I’m not having that beast piss all over the courtyard again."

The rumble of hooves on cobblestones drew their attention. The gates opened, and a column of knights in shining armor, bearing the sigil of House Hightower, entered the courtyard. At their head was Ser Gwayne Hightower, his helm tucked under one arm, revealing the tousled auburn hair and devil-may-care grin that Eleanor had grown so used to seeing—when he wasn’t hiding it behind an arrogant smirk.

“Well, well, look who it is. The fairest blooms of Oldtown,” Gwayne drawled, striding over like he owned all Seven Kingdoms. “Alicent, you’re still holding up the realm with that iron fist of yours. And Eleanor…” His eyes trailed over her, lingering just a fraction too long, “Looking every bit the grieving widow. Tell me, how does it feel to be free of that hideous arsehole, late Lord Hastwyck? May the Seven forgive him.”

Eleanor shot him a withering look, but there was a glint of mischief in her eyes. “About as good as it feels to watch you strut around like you haven’t been fucked in months.”

“Oh, fuck off, Ellie,” Freddie retorted, still in character, his grin widening. “Thought all that mourning might’ve taken the edge off your bite, but clearly, I was wrong.”

Eleanor arched an eyebrow, a smirk that could rival his playing on her lips. “And you, brother, seem as full of yourself as ever. Did the trip here inflate your ego even further?”

Gwayne grinned wider, flashing teeth. “Careful, little sister, or I’ll think you missed me.”

Alicent, tired of their verbal sparring, interjected. “Gwayne, you’ve arrived at an important time. Ser Criston Cole has replaced our father as Hand, and there is much work to be done.”

Gwayne’s grin faded into a sneer. “Ser Criston Cole? That jumped-up cunt of a knight? What, are we that desperate, we’re pulling nobodies out of the arse-end of the Kingsguard now?”

The crew, who had been trying to keep it together, finally lost it. Laughter rang out across the courtyard, cameramen shaking their heads as they tried to stay steady.

“Cut! Fucking hell, cut!” Geeta Patel called out, struggling to keep the exasperation out of her voice. She stepped forward, waving her hands as she approached the trio. “Alright, Freddie, Y/N, that was... Jesus Christ, that was incredible. But you’re not Jaime and Cersei Lannister, alright? You’re Hightowers. That kind of sibling chemistry doesn’t fly in this family. Tone down the ‘let’s fuck each other senseless’ vibes, okay?”

Freddie turned to Y/N, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Hear that, darling? We’re too bloody hot for Westeros.”

Geeta rolled her eyes, but she was smiling despite herself. “I swear, you two are going to give me aneurysm. Just... try to remember you’re siblings. No more of that smoldering shit. The Hightowers don’t do what the Targaryens do, alright?”

Freddie put on a mock-serious face, hand over his heart. “I solemnly swear to be the picture of brotherly love. No more dirty looks, no more—“

“Smoldering looks, you tosser,” Y/N corrected, elbowing him in the ribs. “And good luck with that.”

The crew was still giggling, a few members openly impressed. “Honestly, we haven’t seen chemistry like this since Game of Thrones,” one of the grips muttered, shaking his head. “It’s fucking unreal.”

As Geeta returned to her chair, giving notes to the crew, Freddie leaned in closer to Y/N. “Honestly, how are we supposed to act like siblings when you keep giving me those eyes?”

Y/N shot him a sidelong glance. “You mean the same eyes you’re giving me right now? Don’t think I don’t notice.”

Freddie chuckled, his voice low enough that only Y/N could hear. “Well then how about we really give them something to talk about?”

Y/N swatted at him playfully. “Behave yourself, Fox. Or I’ll tell Geeta.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

Before Freddie could fire back, Geeta’s voice rang out again. “Alright, enough banter, you two. Places! And for fuck’s sake, remember—you’re Hightowers, not Targaryens or Lannisters!”

Freddie straightened up, slipping back into his role as Ser Gwayne, but not before giving Y/N one last, devilish wink. “For now,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.

Y/N fought to keep her expression neutral, but the corners of her mouth twitched with suppressed laughter. She shot him a look that promised retribution later.

As the cameras rolled once more, they slipped effortlessly back into character, their banter sizzling with that same crackling chemistry that had the entire crew both laughing and marveling at just how damn good these two were together—siblings or not.

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On a different day, Geeta Patel was giving final instructions to Olivia Cooke and to Fabien Frankel. “Alright, Olivia, Fabien,” Geeta began, her tone calm. “This scene is all about the farewell. Criston, you’re asking for Alicent’s favor before you leave for war. This is a significant moment between you two. We need it to be subtle, yet powerful. Got it?”

Fabien nodded, his expression serious. “Got it, Geeta.”

Olivia smiled. “Ready when you are.”

Geeta gave them a satisfied nod and turned to the crew. “Okay, everyone, positions! Let’s make this one count.”

As the cameras rolled, Criston Cole approached Alicent with a grave expression, his armor gleaming in the dying light. He bowed low, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “Your Grace,” he began, his tone respectful, yet carrying an undercurrent of something deeper.

Alicent looked at him with those sharp, knowing eyes, giving him a slight nod. “May the Seven guide you, good knight,” she said, her voice soft but resolute. “And lead you not to shadow and death.”

Criston bowed his head even lower, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “I thank Your Grace for her prayers,” he replied, his voice filled with reverence.

Alicent turned as if to leave, her gown sweeping the stones with a soft rustle. But before she could take more than a step, Criston’s voice called her back. “And I would request,” he said, his words halting her in her tracks, “that Her Grace grant me her favor. That her Lord Commander may go into battle with her blessings… in his heart.”

The scene hung heavy in the air, the tension thick between them as Criston’s plea echoed through the courtyard. Alicent hesitated, her hand brushing against the delicate fabric of her sleeve as she turned back to him, her eyes locking onto his. There was a moment of silence, a breath suspended in time, as everyone waited to see what she would do.

She finally reached into her sleeve, pulling out the small, delicate handkerchief embroidered with her initials. The camera zoomed in, capturing the intricate details, the way her fingers trembled just slightly as she held it out to him. “Take this,” she murmured, her voice carrying a subtle tremor, “as a token of my favor. Return victorious, Ser Criston. And know that you carry my thoughts with you.”

Criston bowed his head, taking the handkerchief. “Your Grace,” he replied, his voice rough, “I shall return with your favor in my heart and the victory of your cause in my hands.”

The scene was supposed to be the focal point of the episode—an understated farewell between the Dowager Queen and her paramour.

Or at least, that was the plan.

In the background, Eleanor and Gwayne were supposed to be having a far simpler exchange—just a quick farewell between siblings, nothing more.

The moment the camera panned to them, what was meant to be a brief, subdued farewell exploded into something far more dramatic.

“Eleanor, my sweet sister,” Gwayne declared, sweeping her up in an exaggerated embrace, his voice loud enough to carry across the courtyard. “How will I ever endure the horrors of war without your smile to guide me through the darkness?”

Y/N played right into it. She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes shining with fake tears. “Gwayne, you reckless fool, you’d better come back to me—or I swear I’ll hunt you down myself.”

The crew exchanged glances, trying desperately to keep their laughter in check as the two continued to ad-lib their way through what was supposed to be a simple goodbye.

Gwayne placed a hand on Eleanor’s cheek, his expression one of melodramatic intensity. “If I do not return, tell the world I died with your name on my lips.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” someone from the crew muttered, barely audible over the sound of snickering.

Geeta Patel, perched in her director’s chair, pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “Cut! CUT!” she finally called out, though her voice was tinged with reluctant amusement. “Freddie, Y/N, what the bloody hell was that? You’re supposed to be siblings, not star-crossed lovers.”

Freddie turned to Y/N with a grin that could only be described as wicked. “Sorry, Geeta, got a bit carried away there. Can you blame me? Look at her—who wouldn’t fall madly in love?”

Y/N smirked, not missing a beat. “Don’t flatter yourself, Fox. It’s called acting.”

Geeta threw up her hands in defeat. “I swear, you two are the bane of my existence. How am I supposed to get a serious scene out of you when you keep turning everything into a bloody pantomime?”

The crew was struggling to keep it together. Even Olivia, standing nearby as Alicent, was biting her lip, trying to stay in character despite the ridiculousness happening behind her.

Freddie chuckled. “Geeta, darling, I think what we’re doing here is revolutionary.”

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically, though she was clearly enjoying herself. “What he’s trying to say, Geeta, is that we’re just too damn good together. Maybe it’s time to change the script.”

“Or maybe,” Geeta retorted, her tone playful despite her frustration, “you two could try actually sticking to the script for once. I’m pretty sure HBO isn’t paying you to improvise a Lannister-style farewell.”

Freddie turned to Y/N, pretending to consider it. “What do you think, Eleanor? Should we behave ourselves this time?”

Y/N gave a mock sigh, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off her costume. “I suppose we could try.”

Geeta couldn’t help but shake her head as she gestured for the crew to reset. “Alright, let’s take it from the top. And this time, keep it in your pants, Hightower freaks.”

Cameras rolled once more, the scene resumed, with Criston and Alicent taking center stage as intended from the start.

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The camera opens on a sleek, modern studio set, the familiar logo of Max glowing softly in the background. Y/N and Freddie are seated side by side, relaxed and comfortable, both dressed casually but stylishly—Y/N in a chic blouse and jeans, Freddie in his usual mix of sharp yet slightly rumpled attire.

The interviewer, a young woman with a cheerful demeanor, smiled warmly at them. “Thank you both for joining us today. Why don’t we start with some introductions?”

“Hello, everyone! I’m Y/N L/N, and I play Lady Eleanor Hightower on House of the Dragon,” Y/N says, her voice smooth and confident as she introduces herself.

Freddie chimes in right after. “And I’m Freddie Fox, and I play Ser Gwayne Hightower, Eleanor’s incredibly charming, dashingly handsome older brother.”

Y/N snorts, nudging him with her elbow. “You forgot modest, Freddie. Always so modest.”

The interviewer laughs, clearly enjoying their banter. “It’s great to have you both here. So, as you know, House of the Dragon has a massive fandom, and one of the things they love to do is theorize and create ships outside of the canon. They really get invested in the chemistry between characters—and, let’s be honest, between the actors as well.”

Freddie and Y/N exchange a look, both trying to suppress knowing smiles.

The interviewer continues with a mischievous glint in her eye. “So, naturally, people are starting to wonder—could we be seeing the next Kit Harington and Rose Leslie? You know, screen partners turning into real-life partners?”

Freddie, never one to miss an opportunity for a bit of fun, suddenly turned in his seat, getting down on one knee in front of Y/N. With an exaggeratedly serious expression, he took her hand. “Y/N, dearest Lady Eleanor, would you do me the immense honor of becoming my wife? I promise to annoy you, to steal your snacks, and to outshine you in every single scene we ever do together.”

Y/N bursts out laughing, placing a hand over her heart as if genuinely touched. “Oh, Freddie, how could I ever say no to such a heartfelt proposal? But I must warn you—I take up all the covers at night, and I’m not above hiding the remote if you try to switch to football during one of our movie nights.”

The interviewer is cracking up now, along with the crew behind the cameras. “I didn’t expect this, but I’m loving it! You two are absolutely priceless.”

Freddie stood up, still holding Y/N’s hand, and they both gave a bow to the camera. “Well, you know," he says, turning back to the interviewer, “it’s all about keeping the fans on their toes. Can’t make it too easy for them to figure out what’s going on, right?”

Y/N grins. “Exactly. We like to keep things... interesting.”

The interviewer, still grinning, leans in. “So, should we start planning the wedding, or...?”

Freddie looked thoughtfully at Y/N, tapping his chin. “Well, we’re thinking of something small. Just us, a couple of dragons, and maybe a White Walker to officiate. Keep it intimate, you know?”

Y/N nodded sagely. “Very exclusive. Only the crème de la crème of Westeros.”

The interviewer shakes her head, thoroughly entertained. “Okay, okay, I think we’ve just given the fandom even more fuel for their theories! On a serious note, though, it’s clear you two have incredible chemistry. What’s it like working together on set?”

Y/N smiled warmly at Freddie before answering. “Honestly, it’s a blast. Freddie and I just click, and I think that shows on screen. We’ve got a great rapport, and it’s always fun bringing these characters to life together.”

Freddie nodded, adding, “Yeah, we give each other a lot of shit, but that’s part of what makes it work. We trust each other, and that allows us to really push the boundaries in our scenes—sometimes a bit too much, according to Geeta,” he added with a wink.

The interviewer wraps it up, still chuckling. “Well, it’s been an absolute blast talking with you both. Can’t wait to see what chaos you bring to House of the Dragon next season.”

As the camera pulls back and the lights dim, Freddie and Y/N share a quick, conspiratorial glance, knowing they’d just given the fandom more than enough to talk about—and probably a few new fanfics to write as well.

When the interview dropped on the internet, the fandom absolutely exploded. Social media was flooded with clips of Freddie’s mock proposal, and the internet lost its collective mind.

Fans were dissecting every moment of the interview, from the playful banter to the way Freddie had gazed up at Y/N during his over-the-top proposal. The comments sections were filled with fans declaring that they were “shipping” the two even harder now, some even demanding that someone should cast them both in a romcom.

Amid the chaos, Y/N decided to fan the flames a bit more. She posted a cheeky selfie on Instagram, looking effortlessly stunning as always, with a caption that read, “The coolest of the Hightower siblings.”

It didn’t take long for Freddie to jump in on the fun. He reposted her selfie to his own Instagram story, adding the caption, “THE future Mrs. Fox.”

The internet went into overdrive. Fans were tagging each other, sharing screenshots, and even their House of the Dragon co-stars started chiming in with their own comments, playing along with the joke. The whole thing had taken on a life of its own, and it was clear that Y/N and Freddie had become the fandom’s favorite new obsession.

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During a press event, when Rhys Ifans, the man behind Otto Hightower, was asked about his thoughts on Freddie and Y/N’s antics, his face split into a wide, unabashed grin.

“Well, as Otto,” he began, dropping into character with a serious tone, “I have to say, it’s a major fucking ick. Completely inappropriate! Gwayne and Eleanor getting all... cozy? That would make Otto want to strangle someone. He’d be straight to the quill, penning some strongly worded letters to sort that shit out.”

The crowd erupted in laughter, knowing exactly how Otto Hightower would react to such scandal.

“But as Rhys?” he continued, his tone shifting to one of genuine enthusiasm, “I’m all in! I mean, have you seen those two together? The chemistry is off the bloody charts! If they don’t end up getting married after all this, I’ll be sorely disappointed. They’re perfect for each other—on and off the screen.”

His lighthearted comment sent the room into a ripple of laughter, with everyone loving the idea of Rhys being a secret shipper of Freddie and Y/N.

Within hours, his quote—“Ick as Otto, but fuck yes as Rhys!”—became the battle cry of the fandom, plastered across memes, gifs, and fan art that flooded every corner of the internet. It wasn't just spreading; it was detonating.

The whole situation exploded into a full-blown phenomenon, with fans practically canonizing Rhys as the unofficial president of the Freddie and Y/N ship. People started tagging him in everything, from wild fan theories to NSFW fanfiction, with captions like “Rhys would approve” or “Otto hates it, but Rhys lives for it.”

It was unhinged, chaotic, and utterly glorious. Rhys’s endorsement didn’t just add fuel to the fire; it threw in a grenade, making the whole thing go nuclear.

#hotd #hotd fandom #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #freddie fox #freddie fox x reader #gwayne hightower #ser gwayne #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne fanfic #hotd gwayne #gwayne x alicent #gwayne x you #ser gwayne hightower

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idkyetxoxo · 2 months ago

Text

Gwayne Hightower - Beneath the Mockery

Summary - A perfect day takes a turn when an encounter with the infuriating Gwayne results in an unexpected tumble into the mud. This mishap transforms their antagonistic relationship into a profound and passionate connection, uncovering unexpected depths in both characters.

Pairing - Gwayne Hightower x Targaryen reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!)

Word count - 2375

Masterlist for Gwayne • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

The day was idyllic, the air warm, birds singing their sweet melodies, and the sky a brilliant blue. It seemed perfect until the sound of an aggravating voice cut through the tranquillity.

"Princess," the voice called, a mocking tone underscoring his words. "Fairest princess, do not ignore us lowborn." I clenched my jaw, pausing as my handmaidens did the same around me.

"Ser Gwayne, what a... welcoming sight," I said, a tight-lipped smile on my face.

Gwayne was relentless in his efforts to irritate me, always materializing at the most inopportune moments. He thought himself clever and took immense pleasure in provoking me, his highborn quarry.

As he approached, his smug grin only fueled my annoyance. His presence was a thorn in my side, and he knew it all too well.

"What important task would compel you to leave the safety of the keep?" he asked, his voice dripping with mock concern. His smirk betrayed the taunting nature of his question.

"I fail to see how my whereabouts are any of your concern," I replied.

"Oh, I worry for your safety, of course," he said, tilting his head to the side, his eyes gleaming with amusement. His mockery was evident in every word, and it took all my restraint not to lash out.

I took a deep breath, my fingers curling into the fabric of my dress. "Your concern is touching," I said, my voice laced with sarcasm "But as you can see, I am well-protected."

He laughed, the sound grating. "Of course, Princess. I wouldn't dream of questioning the prowess of your loyal entourage."

"Perhaps you should find a more productive way to spend your time, Ser Gwayne," I suggested, my tone icy. "Surely, there are more pressing matters that require your attention."

He stepped closer, his smirk widening. "Oh, but what could be more pressing than ensuring our beloved princess is safe and sound?"

As I turned to leave, Gwayne stepped slightly to the side, his movement subtle but enough to force me to adjust my path. In my haste to distance myself from him, I didn't notice the uneven ground beneath my feet.

Before I could react, my foot slipped on a hidden patch of wet grass, and I stumbled forward, unable to regain my balance.

Time seemed to slow as I careened towards the ground, my heart lurching in my chest. I landed with a resounding splash into a pool of mud, the thick, sticky substance immediately coating my white dress.

I gasped in shock and indignation, the cool mud seeping through the fabric and clinging to my skin. The pristine gown I had so carefully chosen for the day was now a sodden, filthy mess.

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the sound of my ragged breaths and the distant chirping of birds. Then, Gwayne's laughter erupted, loud and unrestrained.

I briefly considered dragging him down with me, but begrudgingly decided against acting on those impulses.

I pushed myself up slightly, the mud clinging to my hands and arms, and turned to glare at him. His amusement was evident, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he took in my dishevelled appearance.

"Ah, it seems you've found a new way to enjoy the day," he said, struggling to catch his breath between bouts of laughter.

My cheeks burned with humiliation and anger. "You... did this deliberately," I accused, my voice trembling with a blend of anger and frustration.

He raised his hands in mock innocence. "Me? How could I have possibly orchestrated such a thing? It appears the ground itself conspired against you."

Before I could respond, a steady hand gripped my arm, lifting me to my feet. I looked up to find Ser Criston, my sister's sworn protector, his face a mask of concern with a trace of barely concealed anger directed at Gwayne.

His strong grip and calm demeanour provided a contrast to Gwayne's mocking laughter.

"Are you alright, Princess?" Criston asked, his voice steady and reassuring. He carefully wiped some of the mud from my sleeve, his touch respectful and comforting.

"Thank you, Ser Criston," I said, my voice softening slightly. "I seem to have found myself in quite the predicament."

As Criston helped me up, his hands steadying me, I noticed Gwayne watching us, his amusement fading into something darker. His eyes narrowed, and a flicker of jealousy crossed his face.

It was a small victory, seeing his smugness replaced by envy.

"You're too kind, Ser Criston," Gwayne sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "Always ready to rescue a lady in distress."

Criston ignored him, his focus solely on me. "We should get you cleaned up," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "This way."

Before Criston could move, Gwayne stepped forward, his demeanour shifting. "On second thought, it was partly my fault you fell. Allow me to help you back to your chambers, Princess. It is the least I can do."

I looked between the two men, feeling the tension mounting. "Fine," I said with a sigh, eager to be rid of the mud clinging to me. "Let's just get this over with."

Gwayne stepped in closer, offering his arm in a gesture that felt both chivalrous and intrusive. Reluctantly, I took it, and we began the trek back to my chambers.

As we reached the entrance to my chambers, I turned to Gwayne, intending to dismiss him. "Thank you for your assistance, but I can manage from here."

To my surprise, he followed me inside, his presence a bold encroachment. I spun around, my patience frayed. "What are you doing? Do you intend to watch me get dressed?"

Gwayne had the audacity to look slightly taken aback, though the smirk never left his face. "I merely wanted to ensure you were well settled. It would be remiss of me to leave you in such a state without proper assistance."

I clenched my jaw, struggling to keep my composure. "Your concern is noted, but unnecessary. I have my handmaidens to help me if needed. You can go now."

He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. "Surely, Princess, you don't think so poorly of me that you'd send me away without a word of thanks?"

My heart started racing as he closed the distance between us.

For the first time, I realized just how handsome he was. His chiselled features and piercing eyes were impossible to ignore up close. The realization sent a confusing rush of emotions through me challenging my composure.

"What thanks do you expect?" I asked, my mind racing with every possibility.

"Whatever you think worthy," he whispered, his voice silky as he wiped a smidge of mud off my cheek with a surprisingly gentle touch.

The intimate gesture and the intensity of his gaze made my pulse quicken. For a moment, I stood there, caught between indignation and an unexpected attraction.

My thoughts whirled as I considered the implications of what I was about to do. Then, before I could second-guess myself, I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

His skin was warm against my lips, and the action left both of us momentarily stunned. As I pulled back, I saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes, quickly masked by his usual confident demeanour.

"There," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "A kiss on the cheek. Consider it my thanks."

Gwayne's smirk reappeared but with a newfound intensity in his gaze. "Well, Princess, I must admit that was worth every bit of mud and mockery."

I turned to leave, but his hand caught mine, stopping me in my tracks. I glanced back at him, my heart racing even faster. His expression had shifted from smugness to something deeper, more serious.

"Is that truly all you have to offer?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The room seemed to shrink around us, the air thick with unspoken tension. I should have been outraged, should have sent him away with a sharp rebuke but instead, I found myself stepping closer, drawn in by the magnetic pull between us.

His hand moved to my waist, pulling me against him. My breath hitched as our bodies pressed together, the heat of his skin seeping through the fabric of our clothes. I met his gaze, the intensity of his eyes igniting a fire within me.

"This is madness," I whispered, more to myself than to him.

"Perhaps," he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. "But it's a madness we both feel."

In that moment, all thoughts of propriety and decorum vanished. I closed the distance between us, my lips seeking his with a desperate urgency. The kiss was electric, igniting a spark that quickly blazed into an uncontrollable fire. His hands roamed my body, tracing the contours with a reverence that belied the raw hunger in his touch.

We stumbled backwards, our movements frenzied and uncoordinated. My back hit the wall, and Gwayne's body pressed against mine, his kisses growing more fervent. I moaned softly, the sound muffled against his mouth.

His hands moved to my dress, and I felt a momentary pang of hesitation but the heat between us was too intense, the need too overwhelming. I helped him, our fingers tangling as we worked to shed the layers of clothing that separated us.

When we finally stood bare before each other, there was no turning back.

He lifted me, his strength evident as he carried me to the bed. We fell onto the soft surface, our bodies entwined with a primal need.

"So all the teasing, the provoking, was simply to bed me?" I asked, my voice breathless as I looked up at him.

He laughed, a deep, throaty sound that sent a thrill through me. Holding himself up by his hands on either side of my head, he gazed down at me with amusement.

"If that is what you would like to believe," he said, his lips beginning to travel down my body, leaving a path of scorching kisses.

I placed my hand on his chest, stopping him. His lips hovered just above my skin, and he looked at me with a question in his eyes.

"No," I said firmly, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside me. "You do not get to touch me until you tell me the truth."

His eyes darkened with desire, but he stopped, looking at me with a newfound seriousness.

"It was never just about bedding you," he confessed. "The teasing, the provoking... it was my way of breaking through that icy facade you put up. I wanted to see the real you, the passionate, fiery lady beneath the surface."

His words struck a chord within me, and I felt a rush of emotions, anger, confusion, and a deep, unsettling desire.

"You have a strange way of showing your interest," I said, my voice softer now.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. "I wanted you to see me, to feel something for me, even if it was anger. Anything but indifference."

I shivered at the closeness, his breath warm against my skin. "Well, you've certainly succeeded," I whispered, my resolve weakening.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. "Is this what you want, Princess?" he asked, his voice gentle yet insistent. "Do you want me?"

The vulnerability in his question caught me off guard. This was not the arrogant, teasing Gwayne I was used to, this was a man baring his soul, asking for my acceptance. My heart ached with the weight of the decision, but in that moment, I knew what I wanted.

"Yes," I breathed, barely more than a whisper. "I want you."

A soft smile touched his lips, a look of both relief and tenderness reflecting in his eyes. "Say no more," he murmured, and with that, he closed the distance between us once more.

He positioned himself at my entrance, entering me slowly, allowing me to feel everything, every drag of his cock along my walls. The sensation drew illicit moans from my lips, sounds that seemed to please him immensely.

"Does it feel good, Princess?" he whispered, his breath hot against my ear.

"Yes," I gasped, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure. "So good."

The only thing I could focus on was the way his length was hitting spots inside me that I didn't even know existed. Gwayne seemed equally overwhelmed by how something so wrong could feel so right like I was made for him, destined to take his cock for all eternity.

The thought seemed to ignite something in him, and he snapped his hips more violently, his pace quickening. Soon, he was driving in and out with lewd sounds filling the room. The wetness coating his cock was all he could focus on, his own moans echoing as he chased his peak.

I was mewling beneath him, eyes closed in bliss. The feeling of him inside me caused a pressure to build in my stomach, intensifying when he reached down to play with my clit.

Gasping, my eyes shot open. "Gwayne," I moaned, holding his gaze. He moved his fingers confidently, clearly well-versed in this.

"Let go for me," he urged, his voice low and rough.

I began to writhe underneath him, my eyes rolling back as he expertly toyed with all the spots that made me feel good. He kept his pace steady, rocking in and out of me.

It felt so good I could hardly breathe, let alone think straight. "Gwayne, I'm—" I shouted, my climax crashing over me without warning.

My legs locked up, my cunt clenching down on him, and I held onto his body for dear life, moaning and writhing beneath him. My eyes rolled back, and sure enough, not even a second later, he joined me in his own peak.

He closed his eyes, breathing heavily as he intertwined our hands before letting his seed spill onto my legs. Slowly, his breathing began to steady, and he opened his eyes to look at me, a tender smile playing on his lips.

"You surprise me, Princess," he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with an unspoken question.

"And you frustrate me to no end, Ser Gwayne," I replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

He chuckled, the sound low and intimate. "I think we frustrate each other, but perhaps that's what makes this... interesting."

I sighed, resting my head against his chest. "Interesting is one way to describe it."

A/n - Yes after watching Tyland wrestle in the mud this idea came to my mind xx

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd one shot #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd s2 #team green #gwayne hightower #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower x reader #ser gwayne #ser gwayne hightower #gwayne x you #gwayne fanfic

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br0kenangel · 3 months ago

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Daemon *showing baby reader to Caraxes*

BEHOLD DRAGON! YOUR NEW MASTER!

Gwayne *seeing what he's doing to his baby angel*

#🍥ㅤ┊ㅤ𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦 𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ˳ ㅤ ֹㅤ ꯭ ꯭ ̶ ̶꯭۫ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ 𔓕ㅤ 𓈒ㅤ֗#daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #gwayne hightower #ser gwayne #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower x reader #hotd meme #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader

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misswynters · 4 months ago

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Princess and her knight

Gwayne Hightower x targ!fem!reader

[warnings: mdni (18+) sensual kissing, touching, fingering, semi-public, almost getting caught

[word count: 1.3k

[note | fixed my writing. pls don’t just like, reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

You stood on the balcony of your chambers, overlooking the bustling city below. The cool breeze tugged at your silver hair, a stark contrast to the warmth that seemed to radiate from within her. You were lost in thought when you heard the soft footsteps behind you.

"Your grace," came a familiar voice, deep and smooth, sending a shiver down her spine.

You turned to see Gwayne Hightower standing at the entrance to her chambers. The son of the former Hand of the King, he was tall and broad-shouldered, his green eyes intense as they met hers. There was a tension between you, an unspoken desire that had been growing with each stolen glance and whispered conversation.

"Ser Gwayne," you replied, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. "To what do I owe this visit?"

He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving your. "I wished to speak with you. Away from prying eyes and listening ears."

Your heart quickened as he closed the distance between the two of you. You could feel the heat of his body, the scent of leather and steel mingling with something uniquely him. "And what is it you wish to speak about?"

His eyes darkened with an emotion you couldn't quite place. "You, I've thought of little else."

Before you could respond, Gwayne reached out, his hand cupping your cheek. The touch was gentle, but the fire in his eyes spoke of a deeper yearning. "Do you feel it too?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper.

You nodded, your breath hitching as his thumb brushed over your lower lip. "I do."

The last vestiges of restraint crumbled as Gwayne leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and insistent. You melted into him, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. The kiss deepened, your mouths moving together in a dance of desire that left you both breathless.

Gwayne's hands roamed over your back, tracing the curves of your body with a reverence that made your heart race. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he struggled to catch his breath. "My princess," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

You shook your head, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Don't stop. Show me just how much you want me." you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

With a growl of hunger, Gwayne's lips found yours again, more urgent this time. He kissed his way down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Your head fell back, a soft moan escaping your lips as he nipped and kissed his way to your collarbone. Your hands slid down to his shoulders, feeling the strength beneath the fabric of his tunic.

Gwayne's hands moved to your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto the edge of the balcony railing. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer as his lips continued their journey down your body. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only the two of them, lost in a sea of passion and longing.

His breath continued to get heavy. "I crave you, ___. Every kiss, every touch only makes me want you more." he whispered into your ear as he slightly tugged on your earlobe with his teeth.

His hands found the laces of your dress, pulling them lose with practiced ease. The dress now cascaded over your shoulders, exposing them to the moonlight. He paused for a moment, drinking in the sight of her before lowering his lips to your exposed skin. Each kiss sent a jolt of pleasure through you, building an inferno of desire that threatened to consume them both. Your fingers fumbled with the clasps of his tunic, your need to feel his skin against yours overwhelming.

Gwayne helped you, discarding the garment before pulling you into another searing kiss. Your bodies pressed together, the heat between you almost unbearable.

As your kisses grew more heated, Gwayne's hands moved lower, exploring every inch of you with such desire that it made your heart ache. You could feel his need for you, mirrored in your own desperate longing. The world outside was forgotten; there was only the two of them, their hearts and bodies entwined in a dance of passion that knew no bounds.

Gwayne trailed his fingering across your body, finally setting underneath your dress. He teased the spot in between your thighs, trying to gain a reaction for you. You were struggling to keep your face straight from showing any pleasure, you didn’t want anyone to hear. You grabbed a hold on his arm, leaning towards him. You took your free arm and wrapped it around his neck. “My beautiful girl” he lowly moaned against your ear as you kissed his neck.

“Are you trying to silence yourself?” He asked as he continued his trail of kisses down your neck. You was lost in please unable to think about what he said. You continued to ride his fingers trying to catch your release. However, once gwayne took noticed, he stopped. Whining against him, you pulled herself away. You both were now left heavily panting as they catched their breaths. The moonlight shined against his face, casting an everlasting light on him. He looked devilishly handsome. Gwayne leaned forward again, pushing his lips against you once again. The night had deepened, and the fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting a warm glow over your entwined forms.

Lost in the depths of their passion, the two of you barely registered the sounds of the bustling keep around yourselves. It wasn't until you heard the unmistakable sound of hurried footsteps approaching the chamber door that reality crashed back in.

Gwayne froze, his lips still pressed against your skin, as the footsteps grew louder. "Someone's coming," he whispered urgently, his breath hot against your ear.

Your eyes widened, the fog of desire lifting just enough for panic to set in. "Quick, hide," you whispered, your voice trembling with urgency.

Gwayne moved swiftly, grabbing his discarded tunic and slipping into the shadows behind a large tapestry that hung on the wall. You hurriedly adjusted your dress, smoothing the fabric and hastily tying the laces that Gwayne had so expertly undone moments before.

Just as you composed yourself, the door swung open, and a young servant girl entered, her eyes wide with worry.

"Your grace, I apologize for the intrusion," she began, her voice breathless. "Your father requests your presence in the council chamber immediately."

You forced a calm smile, though your heart was still racing. "Thank you, Ellyn. Inform my father I will be there shortly."

The servant girl nodded, her eyes flicking briefly to the scattered garments on the floor before she quickly retreated, closing the door behind her. The sound of her footsteps faded, leaving the room in tense silence.

Gwayne emerged from his hiding place, his expression a mix of relief and lingering desire. "That was close," he said, his voice low and laced with frustration.

You nodded, your cheeks flushed from more than just your earlier passion. "Too close," she agreed, stepping into his embrace once more.

"But we must be careful. We cannot afford to be discovered."

Gwayne cupped your face in his hands, his eyes searching hers. "I know, ___. But it doesn't change how I feel about you. How much I need you."

You leaned into his touch, your heart aching with the intensity of your feelings.

"I feel the same way, Gwayne. More than you know." You shared a brief, tender kiss, a promise of what was to come. But the urgency of the council meeting weighed heavily on your mind.

With a reluctant sigh, you pulled back, straightening your dress once more. "I must go," you said softly.

Gwayne nodded, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment longer before he stepped back. "Be safe, my princess," he murmured.

You gave him one last, longing look before you left your chamber, your heart still racing from their close call. The night might have been interrupted, but your desire for each other burned brighter than ever, a flame that would not be easily extinguished.

banner by: @cafekitsune

#house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd season 2 #house targaryen #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #gwayne hightower #gwayne smut #hotd smut #gwayne x reader #ser gwayne #gwayne x you #house hightower #kings landing #forbidden love

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youraverageaemondsimp · 9 days ago

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Sweet vengeance. // Gwayne Hightower x Cole!Reader (sister of Criston Cole)

Summary: After the encounter with Criston Cole, they return to the keep after successfully defending the territory, almost as if the gods were calling out for him to seek revenge; he ends up bumping into you.

WARNINGS: smut, mdni, porn with plot (a little bit too much plot ig), unprotected p in v sex, slight breeding kink, cunnilingus, oral (f. receiving) interrupted orgasm at the end, cumming inside, Gwayne is an absolute asshole to Criston, purity culture, virginity loss, profanity, age gap (left it up interpretation, but the reader is in her 20s and Gwayne in his 40s), doesn't follow the show plot it's a literal fic which I altered heavily + not proofread.

WC: 2.7k

A/N: here comes the promised gwayne x cole!reader fic, I've teased it ever since that confrontation episode dropped and now finally I'm able to publish it 😭 // divider credits: @cafekitsune

Gwayne walked through the corridors furiously, stomping his feet inside the red keep, departing to his guest chambers in a hurried manner, trying to stay calm.

He just returned from the battle, successfully defeating the invasion of the blacks into King's Landing, securing the land for themselves as Aemond ruled as Prince regent. However, there was only one thing on his mind.

His sister's tainted honour.

Amidst everything, he had gotten Criston to confess and admit that he was sleeping with the Queen, he was disgusted by the revelation. Wasn't Criston a kingsguard? Vowing to not seek pleasures or taint his cloak?

He felt sick in the stomach, wanting to empty it out, regardless of the fact that there is nothing inside.

His feet tapped against the stone floor harshly, his armour clanking with every step forward, he took a harsh turn at the end of the path only for his body to hit something that came from the opposite direction, causing him to stumble two steps backward. He took a moment to collect himself and straighten his posture, wanting to see what it was that he bumped into.

He looked down, shocked to see you on the ground. You broke the impact of the fall with your hands, which proved to be a bad idea considering how the force made them give up immediately, crashing your butt onto the ground. “Ouch.” You clenched your eyes shut as a burning sensation spread through your buttox.

You glared at the reason for your fall, eyes widening on the realisation that it was Ser Gwayne Hightower. “Seven hells, I apologise my lady, are you alright?” Gwayne is quick to apologise, extending his out, waiting for you to grab it and get up.

You gently place your hand in his, his palm closing immediately as he grips onto you while you get off the ground. “Ser Gwayne, I apologise, it was me who was at fault.” You bow, dusting off your gown with one of your hands.

“If it is not rude, might I ask who you are? I have not ever seen you around before, yet you seem to know me.” He speaks politely, giving you a small smile and you nod. “I am Y/N Cole, I know you very well Ser, your knighthood isn't unheard of.” You praise him.

“Y/N Cole… ? Are you related to Ser Criston Cole perhaps?” He questions, furrowing his eyebrows as his grip tightens around your hand. “Yes Ser Gwayne, He is my elder brother.” You reply.

Gwayne was not aware that Criston had a sister.

He took in your form, eyes trailing down from your face to your neck, to your breasts and further downwards, analysing you quite intently, “Mhm, I did not know he had a sister.” Gwayne shrugs, still not letting go of your hand. “He is quite overprotective, so he doesn't mention my existence to his peers.” You admit embarrassedly, looking down and biting your lip. He stared at you for a moment too long, the like of dots being connected as his mind sketches out a plan of action. His expression almost betrayed him as his face bloomed into a wide smile.

Oh you sweet little thing.

He could not believe that Criston had a younger sister. It's almost as if the Gods are etching him on to trudge this path, but he was not going to complain. It felt like he won a war when he realised this fact.

He can use you against Criston.

Perhaps he will make Criston feel the same thing he felt.

He smiles widely at you, bringing your hand upwards and pressing his lips to your knuckles. You blush at this gesture and give him a soft smile in return. “If you may excuse me, I have to take my leave, my lady. I've returned from war and my state.. is well.” He looks at himself and you chuckle, “It is alright.” You reply and he smiles. “Let's go on a stroll next time, yeah?” He speaks in a questioning manner, your eyes widen at the offer but you nod immediately.

Those walks became more frequent as you both enjoyed each other's company quite a lot. Gwayne found you much more bearable than criston, he's aware of the fact that he is an elitist. Holding himself at great stature as he comes from the Hightower family. So any other house that is not in power or he hasn't heard of; he acts like an ass to them.

But he found himself being lenient on you, perhaps to butter you up for the feast he's planning to have. His thoughts have been a mess for the past few days. He at first began to plan on how to execute the plan and take your maidenhead and let the keep hear it. But the ratio of the execution and sexual part became heavily unequal as he wanted to indulge fully in you.

You were beautiful, your skin was pretty, the way your hair was styled, exposing your neck from behind. He wanted to bend you over the ledge and fuck you. You would be so confused he assumes.

Have you had your first orgasm? Did you ever touch yourself?

You were from Dorne so you must know of the deprived acts right? But he notes how young you are, likely spending your entire life here in Kings Landing with Cole.

It was one of those usual garden walks you went on with Gwayne, walking in silence as you both had nothing to talk about, this was no means foreign to you, there would always be silence sometimes during your walks; but this time it felt tense.

Like the feeling of a volcano before it erupts.

You both were standing over the parapet of the backside in the keep, noticing how the waters flowed gently. You felt him move, standing right behind you, pressing himself against you.

“My lady.” He whispers in your ear and you turn your head slightly, not reacting in any way, “H-hmm?” You reply in nervousness his hands moved up your sides in a sensual manner. You stood there frozen.

He grabs you by your shoulder and spins you around so that you're facing, placing his hands on both the sides of your frame; preventing any escape. “Are you promised to any man yet? Your beauty is otherworldly.” He asks, his eyes staring right into you, his voice was sweet yet held a hint of his perverse desire for you.

You shake your head no.

“Such a pity.” He mocks, one of his hands coming to grip your cheek. He pauses for a moment, staring at your lips before looking into your eyes waiting for you to say something; yet you remain quiet as your heart beats loudly in your chest.

He takes it as a cue to press his lips against yours closing his eyes; fully indulging himself onto you as he groans at how soft your lips feel, his own move against yours in a soft manner, a gentle pull of a wave.

It was your first kiss, never having done this with anyone before, it felt odd; but in a good way, his lips felt soft against yours, he waited for you to reciprocate— giving you all the time you needed to process this.

One of his hands rested on your hips, using it as leverage to pull you closer, pressing your bodies together while the other positioned itself against the back of your head pulling you deeper into the kiss.

You responded a while later, learning through the process, moving your lips in a rhythmic motion with his, he muttered something against your lips which you weren't able to process as your mind was hazy. Something about this kiss was shooting immense pleasure down your body; increasing the heat between your legs.

He pulls away from the kiss to take a breath while staring at your lips, noticing the string of saliva that was still connecting you both. He hums before capturing your lips once again but with even more fervour this time. He pushes back until your butt hits the ledge before he places you on it, not breaking the kiss at all.

He plants himself between your legs as his hands roam around all over your body in desperation, sometimes gripping your waist or your soft breasts, squeezing your flesh as he grips onto you tightly.

He breaks the kiss abruptly before he suddenly kneels, you look at him confused until you notice that he's hiking your skirts up, revealing your intimate area. “Ser, this might be inappropriate—” You try to protest but not knowing what to expect, but circles his arms around your thighs pulling you close as he disappears before your legs.

You watch curiously when you feel his warm breath on your cunt. You shriek in surprise when you feel his tongue run across your fdd before he fully takes in your cunt.

You squirm uncontrollably as he works his wonders on your cunt; causing you to grip his hair tightly and push yourself further into his face, you let out small moans, hoping that no one would pass by this area and catch you both in this compromised position.

You place your other hand on the ledge to support yourself from falling before closing your eyes and fully enjoying what he's doing to you. His tongue laps hungrily at your folds, licking them up and down before he suckles on your clit harshly, flicking the bud with his tongue before capturing it wholly again with his mouth.

He groans into your cunt, enthralled by the sensation of having your soft folds in his mouth, he enjoyed it way too much than he'd like to admit, wanting to be forever stuck in between your legs.

You feel a sudden heat building up in your abdomen as he continues his actions, “U-uhm Ser Gwayne— I think something is happening.” You tell him unsure which makes him speed up his movements.

Without warning, you're hit with a plethora of euphoria, your back automatically arching and your voice letting out a loud moan as the feeling hits you in waves. He suckles on your cunt for a minute to let you ride out your orgasm before coming out your skirt.

You feel your cheeks heat up when you see how his lips were coated with your wetness which makes you look away in shyness, he gets back up on his feet before grabbing your chin and tilting your head slightly to make you look at him.

He doesn't say anything but only stares at you as he slowly connects both your lips once again, making you take your own essence. He grinds against you, pressing his now hard bulge in between your thighs as he dry humps you.

He tears away from the kiss with a wet pop, not wasting any time in undoing his breeches, revealing his cock to you, your eyes widened at the sheer size and girth of it. “I-i don't think it will fit?” You stare at him which makes him smirk a little, “It will my lady, I shall see it does.” He replies before bunches up your skirt, making your cunt come into view.

He slowly lines himself against your entrance, his tip kissing the entryway gently as he slowly closes in, pushing it inch by inch. He places his hand on both your sides as you grip him for support, the stretch stinging a little bit.

It takes a while but he's fully inside now, and slowly he begins to move, he grabs a hold of your waist with one of his hands so you don't fall over the edge, he pushes your body against his, making it so as if you're hugging him.

You wrap your arms around his neck tightly as he rams into you, thrusting in and out; causing you to bounce along with him, he grunts into your ear, whispering sweet things.

“Seven hells, you feel so divine.” He whispers against your ear, causing you to clench involuntarily; which makes him gasp in shock, “Jeez—” He drops his head onto your shoulder, now fully gripping you by his arms around your waist as he rams further and further into you. “Fuck, I'm about to finish— should I do it inside you? Fill you up with my seed huh? Make you carry my babes?” He groans, the idea of you being pregnant with his children driving him insane, it would always be a good way to get back at Criston.

You feel him hitting your sweet spot inside you, prodding it with his tip every thrust. His pace falters as he reaches his end, with a final thrust— he finishes with a loud moan of your name as he pulls back and recaptures your lips, kissing you with even more hunger.

He keeps thrusting, wanting you go finish as well, you were about to; almost reaching the breaking point— “What in the seven fucking hells is going on here?!” The shout of a familiar voice makes you snap out of the trance, Gwayne halts and you both immediately look to the place of origin.

It was your brother, Criston.

His expression contained that of both anger and shock, Gwanye quickly pulls himself out of you and puts his breeches back on and you get off the ledge and pull your skirts down and pat the wrinkles down.

“B-brother I— I can explain, it was me—” You begin, “Be quiet, Y/N.” He grits his teeth, cutting you off from speaking as his eyes shoot daggers into Gwayne, whose face is now bearing a smug expression.

“You fucking bastard!” Criston yells before he reaches over and grabs Gwayne, throwing him to the ground before punching his face. Gwayne dodges it, holding his hands down. “It is not so nice when you discover that someone has been fucking your sister, is it?” Gwayne remarks which angers Criston further.

A group of guards rush over putting an end to this fight, pulling the two men apart as you stand there in shock, shaking as if you were scared of both the men.

The next thing you know, You, Gwayne, Criston were all standing before the dowager queen as she looked at you all three in questioning ways. “What has happened?” She directs her question to Gwayne who raises an eyebrow.

Gwayne doesn't answer, “This b- Lord Gwayne was—” Criston swallows as he looks at you, “He was caught in a compromising position with my sister.” He blurts out, “And what was the compromising position that made you raise your hand on my brother, Ser Cole? They could have just been together—” Alicent wanders off.

“He was fucking my sister.” Criston grits his teeth, spitting the words out like venom, causing Alicent to cut herself off. She goes silent as she looks over at her brother, “Is this true?” She asks and Gwayne nods, “Yes my Queen, how can a man hold himself back at the sight of such a maiden? Besides, she wasn't opposed to the idea.” Gwayne speaks out, his words angering Criston ever more.

“Y-yes your grace, I wasn't opposed to it.” You jump in defending Gwayne which makes me smile at you, making Criston look at you in disbelief.

“My Queen, he has tainted her, he has ruined her, who will marry her now?” Criston brings up a valid point which makes the Queen get lost in thought, you put your head down, ashamed of it.

“I shall, I will marry her.” Gwayne volunteers which makes everyone look at him in shock. He only offers a smile.

He wasn't doing it out of kindness or anything, he knew that by marrying you, Criston will experience the same torment and anguish Gwayne felt when he discovered the truth of Criston and Alicent, except it will be a hundred times worse because Criston has no way to avenge himself, for he cannot marry Alicent.

He'll have to suffer, watch his little sister marry Gwayne, become his wife and a mother of his children, every step will be a stab in a vital organ to Criston.

Was Gwayne going a bit too far? Perhaps, yet it didn't matter, for the situation only benefits him. Not only will Criston be tormented by this relationship but he will have you as his pretty wife whom he can fuck and ruin all he wants.

Gwayne is a selfish man.

— ! ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

#gwayne hightower smut #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower x reader smut #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x you #gwayne hightower fic #gwayne x you #ser gwayne hightower #ser gwayne #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon smut #x reader smut #reader insert #x reader

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thewritetofreespeech · 3 months ago

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pairing: Gwayne x fiancé reader

summary: Gwayne may have lost the tourney, but he gained a better prize.

tags: female reader, reader is from the Reach, heterosexual relationship, hand job, mentions of injury, subtle Gwayne daddy issues (not sexy, just Gwayne being Gwayne), Gwayne being a simp for his lady

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When Gwayne told his father one day, at about the age of six, that he was going to take up the sword and learn to be a knight, all his father said was, “are you sure?”

His opinion on the announcement did not seem to sway one way or another, much like his opinion on the actual son. Their lady mother had given him an heir, a spare, a daughter, and Gwayne. His brothers would be learned men like their father, so Gwayne thought he could be useful by being a marshal man for his family. He was actually quite good at it too. All of his instructors said so. His training partners. The men of their House bannermen.

But no one would know that now as Gwayne was quickly unseated in the first round of the tournament. A lucky shot. Luckier still as it could have been fatal, but instead just a wound to his left side and pride. To fall in front of his father and beloved sister wounded him still.

Gwayne had taken what was left of his pride and limped off the tourney grounds. Making it to an awaiting sick bay as injuries in tournaments were more common than not. He had to be stripped out of his armor like a pleb. Been tended to like an invalid while he grit his teeth and let the maester wrap his broken ribs. Just the one, actually. But it was enough to knock him out of the tournament for the rest of the week.

He sighed and rested his head against the headboard. All he wanted was to show his family that his efforts had not been in vain. To show them what he was working so hard for while they were in the Capital. Now he would have to wait for the next tournament. If his father even bothered to show up.

“Gwayne?” The knight looked up from his self-pity musing at the door and found his fiancé there. In his pain and grief over his disappointing show, he had completely forgotten she had been in the crowd too. Wonderful. Another beloved to witness his failure. “Are you alright? That fall…it looked rather nasty…”

“It wasn’t ideal.” He winced as he tried to move his arm to pull his shirt on. Finding it immodest to be in just bandages in front of a lady. She came to his side instantly, helping him pull his arm through with as little discomfort as possible. “Sorry you came all this way to witness such a poor showing. Or waste your favor.”

“It is not a waste Gwayne. Do not say such things.”

Gwayne reached in his pocket and pulled her ribbon from his trousers. She had given it to him the night before, in private, wishing him good fortune & safety in the events to come. He had had it in his breastplate when the games started, and squirrel it away into his pocket after he was injured so it wouldn’t be thrown away. “You should give it to a better knight then I. I’m done for.”

“You fell off a horse Gwayne, not the edge of the world.” She told him. “And, there is no better knight than you for me.” She pushed her offered ribbon back at him with a stern look. “If you keep speaking this way, I shall have to give back your favor and return to the Reach.”

His eyes lit up in alarm. Knowing that she meant his ring, and he could not have that. “Alright. I’m sorry.” To lose the tournament was one thing, but to lose her. Gwayne couldn’t stand it.

She smiled at him. Seeming pleased that he had gotten the hint on not being so hard on himself, and looked around quickly before she leaned in for a kiss. “I know you’re disappointed. But you’re alive and relatively unscathed.”

“And handsome.” He quipped back as he was starting to feel in good spirits. “Do not forget that.”

“Oh, how could I.” His beguiling fiancé leaned in to kiss him again. Longer this time. “Thank the Gods for fine helmets.”

It took Gwayne’s brain a bit to catch on that her hands were moving around his waist band. Perhaps it was the loss of air from their kissing. Or that his bell got run pretty hard in the fall and he was still recovering. Or perhaps still it was simply just her. But he caught on just about the time the cool air brushed against his nether regions, and he sprung up. “What are you doing?” He asked. His back teeth setting against the pain of his sudden movement as he fretfully looked over towards the door.

“Helping you relax.” She replied with some cheek. “I heard the maesters say you needed to do that and rest if you were to heal.”

“And you think undressing me in a room where just anyone could walk in is going to help me relax??”

“Well, no. Perhaps not that part.” Gwayne wheezed in a breath, as much as his battered ribs would allow, when she reached in and took hold of him. “But this part might.”

Gwayne knew not the touch of another, save his own hand. Though he took no vow like the King’s Guard when he became a knight, he had made a personal vow that he would be stalwart in his honor & practice. Dutiful to his House as to not sully it by laying Flowers at their doors. He does not ask how his future wife knew of such things. In all honesty, he did not want to know. All he could think about in that moment, after the shock and panic of getting caught, was how good her soft hand felt around his cock.

His member hardened quickly under her touch. Gwayne was still a young, virile man, with adrenaline still lingering in his veins, a strong breeze could get him up. He moaned quietly as his lady’s hand stroked him. Long steady pulls of her hand up & down. Watching as he was transfixed by this surreal experience that was happening to him.

“Does it feel good my love?” Gwayne nodded. His lord’s education failing him as he could not articulate in this moment how good it felt. “Good. I want to know how you like it, so I can prepare for our wedding night.” He moaned, or perhaps whimpered, at the thought. Just another 3 months. Just another 3 months and she would be his wife, and he would have her all to himself. Her body, her mind, her heart; though she had been clear that he already had the latter two. His hips bucked up at the thought of her beneath him and Gwayne let out a sharp cry that was crossed between one of pleasure & pain as his ribs were jostled again. Then he heard a flurry of scurried motion behind the door.

Panick set in, the fear of getting caught welling up inside him. Not just for himself but her as well. How would they explain such lewd behavior if they were caught? Her reputation would be besmirched. His father might call off the engagement in the face of such scandal!

Luckily his wife to be was not only beautiful but clever. Like all fine roses of the Reach. She quickly pulled a blanket over his midsection and placed their hands together over the spot where the obvious tenting would be. “Forgive me, my lady. I thought I heard his lordship call for help.”

“Such a steward of care you are, Maester Callen.” Her voice was sweet, complimentary, and hypnotic to Gwayne. “Just a twinge of the ribs from a sudden movement. The injury is new. Our silly Ser must have forgotten he had it for a moment.” Gwayne swallowed as her little finger brushed against the outline of him through the blankets. His jaw having to set as to not moan in a very indiscrete way in from of the maester.

“Are you sure he is alright?” Maester Callen asked. A curious look all men of learning seemed to get when they asked questions. “Your lordship looks feverish. There could be an underlying infection from the trauma—“I’m fine.” Gwayne barked quickly. His noble resolve hanging on by a thread thinner than this blanket. “I just need rest, as you said. Please,” ‘oh Gods, please, please, please!’ he thought as his lady continued to stroke him with just the finest touch to the point of madness this whole time, “leave us so I might finish my conversation with my lady and be about that.”

The maester seemed still curious, but asked no further questions. He bowed his head, then closed the door behind him as he left. “Good Gods….!” Gwayne hissed through his teeth as he writhed freely now that they were alone again.

“That was a close one.”

“You insufferable minx!” He hissed at her. That cheeky grin on her face was infuriating but also the vision from his dreams. “You nearly got us caught!”

“I’m not the one who inadvertently called him in here, now did I my love?” Gwayne had a few more sharp words for her but they all vanished as her hand pulled back the blanket again and stroked him fully.

His head tilted back with a moan. The fear of almost being caught, damning though it would be, had only heightened the sensation. He warned her that he was close, not sure if she knew what that meant, and let her swallow his final moans in a kiss as he came all over her hand and his linen dressings. She let him go, a soft kiss on his lips like a seal before she pulled away, and he slumped back against the bed like a witless fool.

“There. Now you can relax & rest completely, my love.” Gwayne nodded. Not sure what she was talking about right now, but rest sounded nice right now. “I shall come to see you tomorrow once they move you back to your quarters. We’ll have the whole afternoon to ourselves, since everyone will at the tournament.” Oh right. The tournament. He was supposed to apart of that. Showing his family & father how much he had trained for them. It suddenly didn’t seem all that important anymore. “Get better, my love.”

She kissed him one last time and then saw herself out. The picture of civility and the dutiful fiancé come to shower well wishes on her mate to be. No one knew, or would know, what had happened between them. Gwayne felt his spent cock twitch a little as he watched her walk away. Just 3 more months. Just 3 more months felt like an eternity all of a sudden.

#;pen & paper (fanfiction)#gwayne hightower #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne fanfic #gwayne x you #ser gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x you #gwayne imagine #house of the dragon scenarios #house of the dragon imagine #hotd scenarios #hotd imagine #hotd smut #house of the dragon smut

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entitled-fangirl · 2 months ago

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A good father.

Gwayne Hightower x wife!reader

Summary: fatherhood is different than what Gwayne expected. Daeron worries that it will be the same as Otto and Gwayne's relationship.

A/n: so I saw that this was the most voted for the poll so far, so I just decided to write it today! Surprise!

Masterlist

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Otto Hightower had returned to Old Town only days ago, and things could not have been more awkward.

Well, not for Gwayne.

That cocky little shit just said everything that came to mind.

It seemed he liked to battle his father.

…

"Daeron?" Her soft voice came over the yard.

Young Daeron sat in the garden of Old Town, a frown upon his face. But at the sound of her voice, he turned and his eyes brightened.

Y/n Hightower slowly walked to him. Five months had passed and finally, she was beginning to show the child that was growing inside her. And she seemed to glow all the more for it.

Daeron moved to the side of make room for her on the bench, as well as hold his hand out to her to help her sit.

"Something is bothering you." She stated and pushed his blonde hair behind his ear.

He shook his head. "It's nothing."

"Daeron," she tried again softly.

She had a way with him. She never had to raise her voice to get her way, for everyone that heard the meek tone of her voice still listened and obeyed.

"It's Grandsire," Daemon explained. "More… it's the constant bickering."

She nodded, running a hand through his hair affectionately. "Gwayne and his father have never seen eye to eye, not since Alicent became queen. They are just two very different men."

"Is that how all fathers and sons talk?"

She pulled his chin up to make his eyes meet hers, "No. Not all fathers and sons speak in ill regard of one another."

"What if he does it to his own son?"

Her brows furrowed, "What?"

"What if Gwayne speaks like that to the babe?"

She just realized how his eyes glazed over with tears. "Oh, sweet boy." She pulled him to her. "Gwayne is a man with a temper, but he would not do that. There is a barrier between Gwayne and his father. One that cannot be fixed now, and only because of that do they fight."

Daeron considered her words for a while, "So, because there is no barrier with the babe-"

"-Gwayne will love this child with his entire being, I promise you."

She held him for a while, promising to talk to her husband about it later.

…

"Might I speak with you?" Her voice echoed out.

Gwayne turned slowly, his face lighting up at her sudden appearance. "You and I both know that you may."

A soft smile came to her lips as she walked to him, "I've missed you as of late."

His head tilted, "I've been here."

She rested her hands on his chest, "Yes, but your mind has been elsewhere."

One of his hands moved to her swollen stomach, "Very much so. My father has been occupying my attention." He scoffed thinking about it, "He's a foolish man."

Her hands rubbed soothingly across his chest. "Even now, you only think of him." She leaned forward and kissed his shoulder, "Don't neglect your wife and future child to argue with your father."

He let out a soft sigh as her words broke his angered facade. "Forgive me."

"No." She leaned against him. "You need to apologize to Daeron."

"Daeron?" He asked in surprise. "Why Daeron?"

"He's worried for you. Well… for the child."

His eyes moved to her to stomach. "I don't understand. He has no reason to worry."

"He's seen the way you bicker with your father."

His hand rubbed up and down, "I'm still rather confused. What does my relationship with my father have to do with the child? Are you alright? Is the babe alright?"

She placed her hand over his, "I am fine."

He tilted his head in worry, "You're sure?"

"I am. Daeron is frightened that you'll speak to our child the way your father speaks to you."

A worried look came over his face, "I would never."

"I know that."

"I did not realize he noticed that."

"I told him I'd speak to you to reassure his worries."

He nodded and looked to her face. "Let me talk to him."

She nodded, "Alright. He should still be outdoors."

Gwayne placed a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'll go now. Wait for me?"

She hummed a questioning noise, "What? Why?"

He grinned, "I want to make up for lost time when I return."

A blush came to her cheeks, "Do make it quick then."

He smoothed down her hair, "I shall."

…

"Come here, nephew."

Daeron looked up and saw his uncle. He stood and smoothed out his shirt. "Yes, uncle?"

He ruffled the boy's hair and smirked, "I've been told that you're worried about something."

A guilty look crossed the boy's face, "Aunt Y/n told you that?"

"She did. But I want to hear it from you." He pointed to the bench, "Sit." Gwayne sat next to him. "I understand that you worry about the way your grandsire and I speak to one another."

Daeron nodded, "You fight often."

"We do." He wanted to fully explain it all, but his nephew was still a child. "We do not… agree often. That is all."

"You and Aunt Y/n disagree often," he pointed out.

He realized the direction that the boy was going, and was earnestly trying to make him see his side. "I'd never speak negatively to that woman."

"But why is that different to Grandsire?"

"Well, I love my wife," he said immediately.

Daeron's eyes watered, "Do you not love Grandsire?"

"I…" he looked away in thought. "He is my father. Do you love your father, Daeron?"

"I believe I do," he answered. "But I do not know. I've lived here for almost my whole life. I don't know father well at all."

"May I tell you a secret? I do not know my father at all, either." Gwayne leaned back against the bench. "My father has always been in King's Landing with your father. Seems we're the same."

Daeron nodded, "I didn't… I didn't think about that."

Gwayne put a hand on Daeron's shoulder, "I will always stay by the babe's side. I will not part from my family."

The boy relaxed at that. He stared in thought, something clearly bothering him. "What is my mother like?"

Gwayne frowned, "W…What?"

"The queen. What is she like? Surely you know."

"Why not ask your Grandsire?"

"I don't know him well enough. I try to avoid him in all honestly. Is that wrong of me?"

Gwayne considered the thought. "I don't think so. I was very frustrated to see him return too."

The Targaryen prince stared up at his uncle, "Did he treat his wife poorly?"

Gwayne felt a smile come to his face at the mention of his mother. "No. No, he loved her very dearly, as I love my wife." He looked out over the garden. "And Alicent is much like your grandmother. Very headstrong but very kind, and as fiery as the Hightower hair. Or, at least… I think she is. She was." He turned to look at Daeron, "Do you wish to visit your mother at some point?"

"No. I'm content here."

"Are you?" A soft voice interrupted.

Y/n approached the two, a slight waddle to her step due to her condition.

Gwayne stood up and held his arms out to her. When she was close enough, he helped her sit on the bench.

She still looked to Daeron. "You're happy here?"

He nodded.

"I'm very glad," she smiled.

Gwayne knelt in front of the boy, "I promise to you that I will love my child unconditionally. Now, I want you to stop worrying. Will you do that?"

Daeron nodded again.

Y/n reached up to smooth the boy's hair, "And you'll still be loved the same when you have a cousin."

"You'll be an excellent cousin," Gwayne chipped in.

"I don't know how to do so. I… I am hardly a brother."

"Do not fret, Daeron. It will come to you naturally," she cooed.

…

A few months later, Daeron entered the couple's chambers in nervousness, eager to meet his cousin.

Gwayne sat against the headboard of the bed, his exhausted wife leaning against his chest. "Daeron?"

He looked up at his uncle, "Is she alright?"

Gwayne nodded and pulled her just a little closer. "She's perfect."

"And the babe?"

Gwayne looked across the room.

Otto Hightower sat on the sofa across the room, the babe held securely in his arms.

It was clear that there was a little tension between the two men.

Otto looked to Daeron, "C'mere."

Daeron walked to his grandsire curiously.

Otto lowered one shoulder to let Daeron see the babe. "A boy."

Daeron's eyes widened, "A boy?"

Gwayne spoke up, "Are you happy?"

He nodded immediately.

Y/n's eyes opened and she let out a groan.

Gwayne shifted her, getting her more comfortable. "Need something?"

"Wanna get up," she whispered.

Gwayne looked at the others in the room, "Leave us."

Daeron nodded, leaving with the maester.

Otto wanted to be annoyed, but he couldn't. He stood and went to put the babe down, but Gwayne spoke up, "Bring him here."

Y/n's eager arms took the child from Otto.

Lord Hightower smiled softly, "You'll be a wonderful mother."

She grinned. "I hope so."

Otto then looked to Gwayne. He stared at him for a while. Gwayne was expecting an insult.

"I was so scared the day you were born."

Gwayne was confused by the sudden confession. "What?"

"The day you were born. I remember the way my hands shook." He looked between the two, "Your mother was so confident."

"I heard she was wonderful," Y/n chirped in softly.

Otto nodded, "She was."

"Gwayne, I need to feed the babe."

Gwayne nodded. "I'll fetch the midwife to help you." He stood and led his father out.

The two walked down the corridor in silence. Finally, Otto spoke. "Your son will be a strong warrior."

"He will be. I'll be here to ensure it," Gwayne said bitterly.

Otto sighed. "We've never gotten along, I understand-"

"-No, you just weren't here."

"I was leading the realm," Otto tried to reason.

"You left," he grunted.

"I am still your father."

"No. Only by blood."

Otto scoffed, "Do not be weak."

"I will raise my son properly. I won't leave my child. And I won't leave my wife." Gwayne grunted. "Something you didn't do."

"Do you believe that I returned here only because I wished to?"

Gwayne stared at him for a while, "I… I do not pretend to understand your choices."

Otto took a step forward, "I was terrified the day you were born. I did not know how to be a father. I didn't have one long enough to learn from him."

Gwayne's head tilted, "And?"

"And…" Otto sighed as his frustration grew. "The king granted me a few months leave. Do you believe I just so happened to time out my arrival with end of your wife's condition and the months after?"

He crossed his arms in annoyance, "What are you saying? You wanted to be here? You wanted to see the child?"

"I WANTED TO SEE YOU!" Otto yelled. "YOU AND YOUR FOOLISH PRIDE!" He brought a hand to his forehead, "I remember the feeling of holding your first child. It is not easy to be a new father and to lead. I only wish to help you in the ways I know how."

"You came back for me?" He asked incredulously.

"Entirely," he admitted. "I see your mother in you. In every word, in every deed. Even in death, she haunts my narrative."

"Would you change your choices if you could restart?"

"Very much."

That was all Gwayne needed to hear. "We are both too stubborn for our own good."

"I want the best for you, Gwayne. I am sorry if I have never stated that. Your wife lives, as does your child. That is the greatest blessing that a man can receive."

"I am well aware," Gwayne smiled lightly. "I… I had to rule Old Town in your absence. I suppose it has been hard to step aside now that you've returned."

Otto smiled. "For now, I wish for you to tend to your family. Leave the rest to me."

Gwayne nodded, "I will." He turned to leave, but hesitated. "Father."

Otto's brows lifted.

Gwayne forced the words out, the feeling new. "Thank you."

Daeron had hidden around the corner, listening to the entire exchange.

…

"Do promise to write often," Y/n smiled as she held the small infant in her arms.

Otto strapped the last bag onto the horse, "I shall try."

She shifted the babe in her arms, "Gwayne has… spoken well of you, as of late." She smiled teasingly, "Do you know why?"

Otto faked a confused look. "Has he? Haven't the faintest idea."

"Well, know that he does. Perhaps he's only now respecting the challenge that fatherhood brings."

He grinned, "I will pray that your son is only half of the battle that Gwayne is."

She laughed, "He is a Hightower. We both know that a prayer like that is worthless. He will be a fighter until his dying day."

Gwayne walked to the pair, pulling his wife to his side, "When will you return?"

Otto shrugged, "When I am granted leave next. I am uncertain. Care for Daeron for me still."

The red head nodded, "You know I always will."

Y/n stepped forward and kissed Otto's cheek, "We shall await the day you return."

He looked at the two. The love they shared was obvious. "As do I."

He mounted his horse.

Y/n muttered something about feeding the babe and excused herself, leaving Otto and Gwayne.

"And Gwayne? You're a good father."

He felt a small twist in his gut.

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#fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x y/n #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #ser gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower x you #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower imagine #gwayne hightower x wife!reader

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nyrasvoid · 3 months ago

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A Knight’s Prize

Gwayne Hightower x Fem!Reader

Summary: in a tourney to decide her future, Rhaenyra Targaryen’s eldest daughter must choose a husband. Ser Gwayne Hightower, a charming yet unexpected suitor, captures her attention.

Warnings: i don’t think there is any warning yet but it might contain smut if I write more parts (idk tho)

A/N: this is the first fanfic I have ever written so any criticism as long as it’s respectful will be accepted 🙃 btw english isn’t my first language so some expressions might not make any sense for you guys lol

- Word count: ≈1.1K

As the eldest daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Ser Laenor Velaryon, you carried the Velaryon name with pride. At almost ten and eight years of age, you knew your time had come to marry and strengthen your house. Though your mother felt guilty about marrying you off against your will, she decided to organize a tournament, allowing you the choice in selecting your future lord husband, just like she had wanted when she was younger.

The Red Keep buzzed with anticipation as knights and lords from all over the realm gathered to compete for your hand. Among the spectators sat King Viserys, Queen Alicent, and their children, observing the events unfold. The tension between the blacks and greens was palpable, especially since Alicent had rejected the offer of Princess Rhaenyra of marrying Jacaerys to Helaena, calling her sons ‘plain featured’.

You and your brothers had always noticed the looks and whispers of the highborn lords and ladies each time you walked around the Red Keep. You sometimes resented your mother, not for finding comfort in a lover, as you very much did not care, but for finding a lover with such strong genes.

Your mother approached you as you stood in the balcony of your chambers, overlooking the field. “Are you ready, my daughter?” she asked, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and determination.

You nodded, your eyes scanning the assembled knights and lords below. “Yes, mother. I am very excited to marry a lord I will most possibly not be fond of and bear his heirs, for it is my duty to the realm.” You said sarcastically as you looked down sadly.

“See,” Rhaenyra said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I know that you did not ask for any of this, but it is our duty as princesses of the realm to bear heirs for the iron throne”. You looked at her “I know it is, mother. I am just scared” you paused as you took a deep breath “What if he mistreats me?”. You mother chuckled “Then you must let me know and I shall fly to you and make Syrax devour your lord husband”. You both giggled at your mother’s words, you saw her capable of it, she had always been protective of her only daughter.

As the herald announced the beginning of the tournament, you couldn't help but feel a knot of anxiety tighten in your stomach. The knights and lords paraded before you, each hoping to catch your eye and win your favor. Your gaze lingered on Ser Gwayne Hightower, the eldest son of Otto Hightower and brother of Queen Alicent. Why was he even here if Alicent had already rejected the opportunity to unite even more your houses? Wasn’t he also defeated by your uncle Daemon in a tourney years ago? It would have been funny to see Otto’s face then, the man he hated the most in the seven kingdoms, knocking his eldest son of his horse. Perhaps his father had sent him, he had always been known as an ambitious man.

The trumpets sounded, signaling the beginning of the tournament. You glanced over at Ser Gwayne, who stood confidently with his head held high. He caught your eye for a moment, and you quickly looked away, feeling a surge of irritation.

As the day wore on, you noticed Ser Gwayne’s victories. His fierce determination and honorable conduct impressed you. He fought with courage, that was both inspiring and captivating. After winning a round against a lord from a minor house you had never heard of, he approached the gallery to ask for your favour.

“Princess, it would be the greatest honor if you would grant me your favor.” He said as he took off his helmet revealing his beautiful blue eyes and charming smile “May your blessing guide me to victory in this tournament for your hand”.

You smiled in amusement “Take this flower crown, Ser Gwayne, and wear it with pride.” You reach for the flower crown resting beside you, it blooms the vibrant colors of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon. “It bears the colors of my house and the faith I have in you”. You lean forward, gently placing the flower crown on Ser Gwayne’s lance.

Ser Gwayne bows once more, his voice filled with gratitude. “I am deeply honored, my lady. With your favor, I shall strive to be worthy of your hand”

During a brief intermission, you found yourself wandering through the gardens of the Red Keep, seeking a moment of respite from the intensity of the tournament. Thinking about how your future was about to be decided by a stupid tourney. It was there were you encountered one of the knights fighting for your hand.

"Princess," he greeted, bowing deeply. "I hope the tourney is to your satisfaction."

You studied him for a moment, noting the easy charm in his smile and the glint of mischief in his eyes. "It is, Ser Gwayne. You fight well and with honor.”

"Thank you, princess," he replied, stepping closer. “I must admit, I didn’t expect to find such beauty amidst the flowers.”

“Ser Gwayne,” you reply, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Shouldn’t you be resting for your next fight?”

“I find the gardens far more refreshing than the company of annoying knights,” - he steps closer “Besides, I couldn’t resist the chance to speak more privately with my future lady wife.” he says confidently.

There’s a playful spark in his eyes that makes your heart race. “You seem very confident, Ser Gwayne. Aren’t you worried about the competition?”

He leans in slightly, “The only competition that matters to me is winning your hand, princess”

You laugh softly, both flattered and intrigued. “Bold words for a knight who hasn’t yet proven himself.”

His gaze becomes more intense, a hint of cockiness in his smile. “Then perhaps I should start proving myself next round.”

Before you can respond, he gently takes your hand, placing a tender kiss on your knuckles. You could feel your cheeks heat up. It wasn’t the first time a knight or a lord kissed your hand, but this time was different, you actually felt something.

As the distant sounds of the tournament begin to echo through the gardens, you know it’s time to return. Ser Gwayne till holds your hand, as if he is reluctant to let go.

“I suppose we must go back,” you say softly.

He nods, as his eyes remain fixed on you. “Duty calls us both, it seems.” he said as he let go of your hand “But know this, Princess. My intentions towards you are sincere, it would be a great honor to marry you”

You give him a small smile, though you doubt his real intentions “Words are easy, Ser Gwayne. Proving them is the true challenge.”

“Then I shall accept your challenge, for you are worth every effort.”

You can’t help but wonder if his charm is genuine or simply a tactic. You recall the reputation of the Hightowers, a family known for their ambitions. Are Ser Gwayne’s intentions truly genuine, or is he merely following his father’s orders, seeking to gain influence through marriage?

You walk back to the main grounds of the tournament, his words echoing in your mind. ‘My intentions are sincere.’ Could it be true? Or is this just another scheme by his father, Otto Hightower, to strengthen their hold on power?

As you take your place, you steal a glance at Ser Gwyn. He catches your eye and offers a reassuring smile, but the seed of doubt has already been planted in your head.

The tournament continues, but your thoughts remain divided. You weigh the warmth of his touch and the sincerity in his eyes against the ruthless ambition of his family. Should you trust your heart, which yearns to believe in his genuine affection?

Pt. 2???

P.S. if you guys have any suggestions for part two, to improve my writing or anything you think, please let me know 🫨 Btw just in case you want to know, the lady in the picture at the beginning is Kosem Sultan, played by Beren Saat (there are others) she has great dress inspo if you want them for your DRs or fanfics.

#gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x reader #hotd season 2 #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #gwayne x reader #ser gwayne hightower #gwayne x you #gwayne hightower x you #gwayne fanfic #gwayne hightower fanfic #gwayne hightower x female reader #hotd fanfiction #fanfiction #gwayne imagine

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the-fiction-witch · 2 months ago

Text

Little Knight

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Gwayne Hightower Couple - Gwayne X Reader Reader - Visenya Hightower (Daughter of Rhaenyra and Wife of Gwayne) Rating - 15 Word Count - 1715

Requested -

Hello Miss Witch, me again! Can I request again in your “Boys Yet To Have Books” please? I really love the Oscar Tully I requested, how you write it is simply divine! But now I’d like to request a Gwayne Hightower story. Wherein he is married to Rhaenyra’s sister named “Visenya” (many years after Alicent’s marriage to Viserys) to have a stronger bond between Hightower and Targaryen. But the thing is that they both resided in Old Town. They both had their first child, a girl the same age as Daeron and now expecting another one. No spice please, just Gwayne being the best husband and father ever, being really clingy and touchy, showering sweet words and kisses to his wife exactly like a simp haha. I am a million times grateful if you do this request, thank you! <33

Gwayne rides into the stables, pulling up and dismounting his horse bag slung over his shoulder. He tries to hurry his way inside fast and easy but finds the Maester pestering him as he walks

"Ser, Ser, A raven from your sister," The short man bobbles about following Gawyne around the yard,

Gwayne lets out a sigh, “What does my sister want?”

"She requests for you to take coach and begin the road to king's landing, Ser."

Gwayne grumbles, rubbing his forehead. “By the gods do I need to spell it out for her… no. I am not going to Kings Landing.”

"But Ser-" He began,

Gwayne held up his hand, stopping the man there. “What part of “no” are you unable to comprehend? I will not be going to that viper’s nest, I do not care for how much my sister begs and nags, nothing she can say will change my mind.” Gawyne sighed once more, "I will not risk such a movement, I will not do it. Visenya could begin her labours any day I will not risk taking her on the road in her condition much less to Kings Landing just to please my sister. Visenya will remain here, in our bed-chamber, with her maids and maesters while we wait for the baby. and I will be here. By her side."

The Maester began to argue more but at this,

“Do. Not. Push. Me.” Gwayne turned to face him, a growl upon his lips.

the Maester froze like a deer in the headlights at this, his legs going still and his lip quivering slightly as he nodded his head. The maester grumbled but relented, knowing he was not going to get any further than that, “Very well, ser, I shall inform your sister… again.”

Gwayne let out a scoff, running a hand through his hair in a bout of frustration. “I would not waste your birds on my sister… I’m certain she has a mind to flay you alive if you say “no” once more.” Gwayne heads inside the Hightower, heading up the many stairs to his chambers, already he felt a giddy smile as he opened the door.

The balcony doors open letting a soft breeze blow in from the sunset sea, the sweet canopy bed shaded by wooden screens. And there she lay Visenya his beloved wife. Long hair messy from her rest, wearing only her long white nightgown and her socks, her baby bump ripe and ready to pop any day. She hums softly as she slowly sews little baby clothes.

Gwayne stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her with a soft smile. He thanked the gods she was his, and questioned whatever luck he had been given for the brief time just to call her his own. He could have watched her forever, until Oldtown and the Hightower sank into the sea. But he moved further into the room, closing the doors behind him. He sets his bag down beside the bed, walking over and sitting on the edge. He looks at her sewing before his eyes move up to her face, his smile only growing. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, then her forehead, then her nose, then her lips, then her jaw, then her collar, then her chest, then her bump, where he finally stops. He reaches out, resting his hand on her belly, rubbing it softly with a gentle smile. “Are you working on the clothes again, my love?”

she nodded "Mhm, I made our little knight some little socks to warm his tiny toes,"

Gwayne chuckled softly, grinning at the thought of their child and their tiny little toes ripe for kisses and tickles, “How shall our little night shall be to have such tiny socks, why I could fit the whole knight in my sock,”

“And poison the poor lad,” she joked,

“You are cruel to me my love,” he teased giving her another kiss, “You know not yet if it is a boy or girl, love…”

"No, we shall have to be surprised."

Gwayne smiled softly, taking her hand in one of his and intertwining their fingers. “Indeed, though regardless, I’m certain they will be a gorgeous and strong child. They have us as parents, after all…”

she nodded with a giggle in agreement,

“And I spent the day in the Old Town gardens and I gathered you enough Moonblooms for a whole batch of soap.” He cooed glancing to his bag, “As soon as your hungry let me know and I will make it myself for you,”

“Thank you darling,” she cooed, "What did the maester want, he came looking for you earlier"

Gwayne let out a sigh, he laid down resting his head on her bump in such a way he could still look at her face, “Ummm have I ever told you how beautiful you are,”

“Yes you have,” she smiled, “Maseter… wanted… what?” She reminds,

“You know just staggeringly beautiful,”

“Gwayne!” she complained, “Don’t just avoid the topic,” She warns, “You are causing me distress,” She teased rubbing her belly,

“More ravens from my sister, demanding my presence in Kings’ Landing… I once again refused, I will not take you on the road with you in your current state. It is not fair to you, nor the babe.”

"You know she will not stop her asking until she feels the babe in her arms"

He let out another sigh, “I do not care how many ravens she sends, I will continue to refuse her. I will not risk you or our baby for my sister’s whims.” he explained, “It is three months ride to kings landing, swiftly and you are in no condition to travel for that long, let along be on any swift movements. Our babe will be born by the time we arrive and I will not risk you and our baby’s health to have your labours in the back of a coach. No. You will be here. With all the citadel’s maesters to aid you, all your handmaidens. And I by your side. In your own bed, with your own views, Visenya,” he took her hand in his holding it to his chest,

"But don't you want to take your beautiful wife, swollen heavy with your babe to court to show off?" she teased

Gwayne chuckled, bringing the back of her hand to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it.

“While seeing you in court would be wonderful, you are more important then any lords, ladies or my sister. You are my wife, my love, my Visenya.”

He shifted once more so he was lying partially on top of her, his body mostly on her side, his head now against her torso. He wrapped his arms around her waist, He listened to the sound of her breathing, the steady beat of her heart, and most importantly the sound of the little pitter-patter of their child’s own delicate little heartbeat. Everything was perfect, here in this moment in his mind, often he whispered sweet cooes to her and peppered her with kisses telling her and their baby how much he adores them,

Suddenly the door to the chamber flies open

"Did I miss it!" Lianna yelled in panic, standing at the door in her green gown, fresh from her library session with her cousin Daeron,

Gwayne nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden shout from the doorway, not expecting his daughter’s sudden appearance. The surprise was soon replaced with a sigh and a chuckled at the girl’s question. “Miss what, Lianna?”

"My baby brother!" She bolted over jumping onto their bed with excitement

Gwayne chuckled, shaking his head, his hands going to her little arms to prevent her from accidentally moving the bed too hard, knowing Visenya needed to be on her back most of the time these days. “Lianna, you’ve asked this every day for two months, and it’s always the same answer. Your brother has not arrived yet.”

"Why not?"

Gwayne sighed, smiling at his impatient, and at times, irritatingly stubborn daughter. “Because these things take time, sweetling. Give it another month or two, you’ll have your baby brother to dote on and bother all the time.”

lianna nodded, and pulled a bundle of flowers from her back "For you mama," She offered the flowers to Visenya,

"Awww thank you my sweet girl," she cooed taking the flowers from her, setting them in a vase beside the bed with the flowers’ Lianna brought her yesterday, but keeping one out to rub on her belly to soothe the little baby within,

Gwayne scooted over, The sight made him smile. Lianna was so sweet, though a handful at times. “Those are beautiful Lianna, you did well with them,”

“Lianna, would you like to feel your sibling move? I can feel our little knight right now…”

Lianna immediately came to rest her hands on Visenya's belly "I feel him! I feel him!"

Gwayne chuckled softly, watching Lianna rest her hands on her mother’s belly, a smile upon her face. He reached out, gently resting his own hand over Visenya’s stomach, smiling at the feeling of their child moving around in there. He could practically feel Lianna’s excitement, and he smiled softly at their daughter’s enthusiasm for the little one.

Visenya chuckled, placing her own hand over her Gwaynes, both of them now resting on her stomach.

“See? He’s a little knight indeed. He has been very active lately, moving around in there quite a lot.”

“Umm, I think he is almost ready to join us,” He smiled,

“I think so too,”

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flowerisevil · 3 months ago

Text

Lifetime

Gwayne Hightower X Targaryen reader princess @beckyxzz

Disclaimer: incest. Gwayne is the reader's uncle, slight angst, attempted r@pe, mention of sa.

~•~

A youngest and a daughter. What an awful combination can the princess have.

The princess was feeling spiritless between these walls, after a war was declared.

"I want to go in the Sept, it is the seventh day today" she informed her sworn protector, her uncle.

"Princess, would you like for me to inform the Queen so she shall accompany you?" Gwayne asked.

She shook her head, she can't even look at him after the dream she had about him last night, it was unpleasant.

Gwayne took knowledge of her request, as soon as he fetched a carriage for her, the princess was fast to enter the carriage before him.

"You look devastated princess..." Gwayne pointed out.

"I worry for my future, Ser Gwayne" she confessed, as she skinned the tip of her fingers, a manner she obviously gets from her mother.

Gwayne looked at her, she looked like she did not come from her sister Alicent, from her outside and inside. She looked extremely like a Targaryen, out of the five of them, she was the only one who radiates an aura like the other pure-blooded Targaryen had. Her skin and hair were glowing, her lilac eyes that can deceive anyone.

"I worry that someday, the King would arrange me in marriage to the other houses for alliance" Gwayne snapped back in reality as her voice echoed inside the carriage.

"Aegon and Aemond they're plotting to marry me to the Oscar Tully"

Gwayne only nodded, he knew that his nephews' ideas were right, Oscar Tully was a young boy who would accept a generous offer of marrying a Targaryen princess, especially if it's her.

"And you don't want it? Lord Oscar Tully is a great chivalrous and has a great title"

She shakes her head, she never dreamed of marrying a guy, she wanted to marry for love and build a family that will be full of joyous laugh and lovely interactions.

She dreamed one man to marry and unfortunately it was the man right of her, out of all people her heart chose the one she truly shouldn't be with, he was sworn and took an oath.

As they have reached the Great Sept none between them, uttered a word.

Gwayne watched her kneel on the stone statue, while she lit up three candles he frowned, for whom she lit up the third one? Gwayne stared at her, she was the most beautiful of all of them, the most beautiful in his eyes too. His eyes stares at her position, kneeling while she looked up, he wonders how beautiful she would look if a such position is in front of him, he shook his head it was never a good idea to think about her in a sensual way.

It was a painful minute he had to endure before the princess and him came back in the Keep.

~•~•~•~•~•~

Gwayne resisted her, he tried, and he was good at hiding it, the people inside the Keep did not suspect him aside from one.

The youngest princess was outside the Godswood of the Keep when the Jason Lannister pay her a visit, Jason had always dreamed that someday he might get her hand for marriage before the two Targaryen brothers finalize her betrothal to Oscar Tully. It's not like Aegon did not want him for their sister, it would be an honor for both parties to unite their houses.

Gwayne eyes followed the steps of the Lannister towards the princess, he sat beside her on the wooden bench, the princess gaze moves towards him, a hint of discomfort flashed on her face at the close distance between her and Lord Lannister.

"Ser Jason, I am afraid my brothers are nowhere to be seen here" she spoke genuinely, Jason let out a small chuckle as he shakes his head.

"It is you princess that I am looking for" his body moved closer to her and his hands slowly reaching for her hand but before he had placed a kiss on the back of it, the princess had already withdrawn her hand from his grasp.

"What a very proper lady you are" Jason smirked. "I do wonder if only I had asked for your hand earlier than maybe our houses and the people in Kings Landing are already cheering at our union" the princess face grimaced as he spoke, he was speaking nothing but nonsense.

Gwayne hold his sword as he watched the scene unfold, Jason reached to cup her face, he cannot read what he's telling her, but one thing is for sure, the princess is not pleased nor comfortable with him. And he himself is not happy at the scene right in front of him, that cunt of a Lannister touching her elegant face, he dared to touch the princess like that.

Gwayne battled with his own emotion, but his restraints vanished when Jason Lannister took a small fabric of her dress and sniffing it, he immediately walked over them and grabbed his collar pushing him to the ground, he draws his sword before pointing it on the lord lion's neck.

"What an immoral person you are to harass the princess" Gwayne spat, the guards seem alert on his actions but he paid no mind and looked at the princess behind him.

He was furious.

And she can read it clearly on his eyes, but why? Why does it look like his act and rage was caused by other than his knightly duty? Why does his eyes seems have something more to say.

"Princess give me your command and I shall extinguished this unhinged man" Gwayne spoke, digging the tip of his sword the man's skin.

She opened her mouth to speak when Aemond walked inside seeing the scene in front of him.

"Ser Gwayne? What is the meaning of this?"

Aemond spoke beside him was Ser Criston Cole, Aemond's eye widened at the unpleasant scenario, when Gwayne moved his gaze to the Prince, Jason Lannister took it as a chance to run and stand beside Aemond.

"The princess sworn protector is insane! H-he pointed his sword at me!" Jason snarled.

Aemond looked at his uncle, demanding an explanation, Jason's defense made the knight chuckled as he placed his sword back his side.

"My Prince, Lord Lannister was harassing the princess"

Jason denied his allegations fueling the anger inside him, he stepped forward to make him admit his treasonous act but the hand of the woman behind her was placed on his arm, deterring him. His tense muscles softened at her touch.

Aemond eyes watched the interaction between his sister and uncle, he made a small sound with a click of his tongue as he whispered something to Ser Jason Lannister and the Lord walked away.

Then he turned back to them, looking at his dear sister. "Ser Criston, please escort the princess out of the Godswood."

"Aemond, I wish to stay. Hear me out, Lord Lanniste-"

"Enough. We shall talk later princess, for now I need to have a word with Ser Gwayne" with Aemond's command, Ser Criston walked to the princess and slowly guiding her back inside the castle.

Gwayne and Aemond remained there, the prince walked near at his uncle, his uncle was a great knight, one of his greatest swordman.

"You are a very an honorable knight Ser Gwayne, I would not have to deny that" Aemond murmur to him, looking him from toes to his head. "But it seems like the past moons you are having dereliction with your duties" the prince continued, he might only have one eye, but it does not mean he wasn't able to see the stare of fondness his uncle setting to his sister.

"I am only doing my duty, and it is to protect the princess, my Prince" Gwayne was bravely enough to stare back on the one-eyed prince.

"There is a difference with protecting the princess because of your duty and protecting her out of jealousy" Aemond chuckled, Gwayne was not fazed by his nephew's correct allegations. "I am no fool uncle, I know the little amor you have for the princess" Aemond stepped backward as he turned his back against the Hightower knight and walked away.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The last phrases echoed inside Gwayne's head, his mind was preoccupied when he heard a noise inside the princess chamber.

He quickly knocked on her room, waiting for her answer but it remained silent, he tried multiple times still no answer.

"Princess I am going inside" he informed before pushing her wooden door.

He went inside and he saw her sitting on the edge of her bed, her back facing him.

"Princess? Are you alright?" He walked toward her.

He took the sight of her, when he finally saw her whole, her cheeks covered in almost dried tear stains, both of her arms hanging on her sides, it took his attention at the two bottles of wines scattered down her bed and one on her right hand.

Gwayne kneeled in front of her, slowly taking the wine out of her grasp, when he kneeled, he noticed pieces of broken glasses on the floor and small drops of blood, he searched where did it came from, and his eyes dropped on the left arm of the princess.

It was a long slit, probably a wound from the broken bottles of wine, he remained calm despite the urge to be angry at her for being too careless and letting herself get wounded. He scanned her chamber looking for something to aid her injury.

He slowly grabbed the liquor away from her, next he reached for her hand and gently washed it with wet water removing the flowing blood.

The Princess watched his actions, when he slowly held her hand like it was a piece of jewelry that need to be held with care. Her drunk state told her to caress his hair to show him her affection.

She has always admired him, from his physical traits to his inside traits, an honorable man, raised by his mother in Oldtown, an heir to Oldtown. He would be a perfect candidate as her betrothed, perhaps if only their father, the previous King was still alive he would consider Ser Gwayne to be her betrothed.

She looked down on him as he slowly wrapped a clean cloth around her palm, she reached to cup his face, slowly bringing his face close to her. Gwayne was surprised by the princess but also was fast to move away from her. Her heart sank as she felt his skin detached from her hand.

"Princess" his voice warned, the young princess stood up walking closer to him, she again caresses his face, her thumb rubbing his pale skin. With her drunken state she tried reaching for his lips, but the knight looked away, dodging her kiss.

"Ser Gwayne" her voice almost sounded like a plea, Gwayne took all his courage to not smash his lips to her at that moment, she would not need to ask him again, but he knew better than be intimate with the young princess.

"Princess, this is inappropriate" Gwayne managed to protest.

The Targaryen princess did not care, the alcohol she consumed had put enough courage for her to do an act that no proper or modest lady would do.

"Just for tonight please..." she leaned her forehead to his shoulders, her hand rested on his chest.

Gwayne was frozen, saying every curse he knows in his mind, he was no saint, with her pleading voice and desperate request she awoke something inside of him. He bit the inside of his cheeks, his hands gently snakes behind her back not enough for her to notice.

"Please"

Gwayne did not wait for another word, as he tilt her chin up to face him and connected their lips, he knew it was wrong, that if someone had walked in and caught them, he would be exiled, hanged, or beheaded with no trial.

She was a bit surprised not expecting his lips to hers, his tongue devoured her mouth, licking the taste of alcohol in her, she reached for his collar, but Gwayne gently pushed her down back to her mattress.

She studied his face, he was breathing heavily and his face fall down to the ground, Gwayne did not utter any word when he tucked her in thick covers.

"You must retire, princess" he said before turning around.

She was puzzled by his actions, while he was walking to leave her chamber, the princess pulled his white cloak enough to make him turn around, facing the princess.

"Ser Gwayne are you playing jest on me?" She furiously said, she somehow felt like her ego was stepped in. Not because she was rejected, but the mere thought that this knight left her hanging.

"I am clearly aware that you princess is very much familiar with ordinance and oaths that I have took as your sworn protector" Gwayne retorted, he returned his words with fully, like he intends to knock some senses into her wasted state. "I do not intend to break that princess; I am afraid you may have to find a different man or a whore perhaps who can fulfill your desires" he continued.

It was a harsh slap to the princess, with heavy steps she moved away from him. "Would you like me to fetch you a whore that will please you for the night?" She shakes her head.

Gwayne felt the pang of guilt when she raised her face to face him, the watery eyes were obvious to see. "I have no needs for those whores Ser Gwayne" she defined, hating how her voice sounded like it was about to break, it was shameful, she knew that her own sworn protector now see her as an improper desperate lady, who would risk everything just to get a taste of pleasure.

Gwayne nodded in acknowledgment before leaving when the princess spoke again. "I may be drunk but clearly I know what I am doing. I do not kiss just because I am drunk Ser Gwayne it is because I have deep feelings for you" she confessed.

Her head fell down on the cold ground as silence covered them, she was anxiously tugging her dress looking for comfort, but she failed. She knows that maybe inside of him he's already laughing at her little confession, maybe she was truly a Targaryen for having queer customs.

"Princess you are a young lady, you have no idea what you are talking about" he begun not daring to face her. "Whatever it is, please keep it to yourself or forget about it. Because I do not see you nothing more than my duty and a daughter of my Queen sister" he continued as he walked outside the chambers.

She pursed her lips, her eyes remained down before she finally composed herself to go back in her bed. She saw it coming, how fool of her to even try her luck at him. As she lay down Gwayne's words keep repeating inside her head until her mind grew tired and drift off.

That night Gwayne frustratedly punched the wall beside the door outside of her chamber, he was amused to himself that he was able to pull off a such thing, he talks like he did not want her, like he did not dream of having her, he talked like he has no interest in her, but he knew that inside him says otherwise.

That night he had left her chamber, he asked a different knight to guard the door of the princess bedchamber. Gwayne went outside the castle inhaling the air wishing that the fucking wind would relax him.

Gwayne's attention shifted towards the sound of someone approaching, he turned to find the source of sound prompting him to ready his sword. After minutes he finds nothing and left.

On his way back to check the princess his was puzzled as a lot of servants and guards are running through the halls urgently, his worry rise and ran towards the princess room. When he stopped in front of her chamber it was open and she looked inside to see the Dowager Queen with a teary eye watching her youngest daughter as her handmaidens tearing up while changing her already ripped dress.

Alicent eyes darted towards him as well as Cole's, the Commander of Kingsguard immediately gripped his collar dragging him out of the room.

"Where have you been? Why aren't you here when this tragedy happened?" Cole scowl at him, his fingers tightly grip his collar.

"I was gone for an hour, I asked another guard to look after-"

"They beheaded prince Jahaerys in the Queen's chamber, after that they stopped by the princess chamber slitting the throat of the guards that was here and they have harassed the princess, all this because of your insolence" Criston's last words are the only one who hit him.

He abruptly pushed him away trying to see her, but Criston pulled him back "After your negligence I don-"

The Commander dropped on the cold ground from the hard punch from Gwayne, before Criston could even react the knight was already inside the chambers.

Gwayne rush towards her but Alicent was quick to block her way. "Brother" Alicent spoke, when he moved his gaze towards the princess, she was already sleeping.

"The Maesters gave her something that would ease her shaking and led her to sleep." his sister voice was shaking as she explained.

"What did they do to her?"

Alicent can't form any words, how she will be able to repeat the words her daughter told her. "T-They barged here, and she said they touched her in the most inappropriate ways" Gwayne's inside was trembling, but he remained still when Alicent continued.

"The guards was already searching each room after what happened in Helaena's room, it was good thing that the guards looked inside her room before they do anything to her. The boy is dead, his pain has put through its end."

Alicent next words broke out. "B-but what they have done to my girls" she cried out, she covered her mouth to stop from making noises, preventing to wake her daughter.

A tear escaped on Gwayne's eyes as he listens to her words, there was no one to blame other than him, he didn't only forsake his duty but also her safety. In one night, he was able to completely harm her in many different ways.

It took minutes before Alicent calm herself, Cole assisted her back to her room, Gwayne was left there, he remained inside her chamber, it was inappropriate but it did not matter anymore. He watched her sleep, recognizing the familiar kind and sweet face she have, out of all people she did not deserve that, she was nothing but kind to everyone highborn or not.

"What kind of Gods are they to put harm to someone like you" he whispered with a small tear streaming down his face.

What happened to her, stabbed him inside. He wanted to protect her, he wanted to shield her from any harm but at the end he was the one who had forsaken her safety.

~•~•~•~•~

Because of the incident, every kingsguard was questioned by the King Aegon.

"My son is dead! My poor sister was harmed! I shall have those rats head on a spike!" Aegon burst out as he left the council room.

Him along with the Kingsguard remained still when the Dowager Queen spoke, all the other guards shifted their gaze to her sister but his eyes remain on the youngest princess beside her, she was looking down while the Prince Aemond gently talk to her, Gwayne can see the Prince hands covering hers.

"All of you remain to your duties but none of you shall go near to my daughters, I'll have different men guard their room" His reality snapped back at the Dowager Queen's command. "And Ser Gwayne"

His eyes darted towards his sister, waiting for her to finish her words.

"You are dismissed from your duty, you are no longer the Princess sworn protector" her last words before she left the suffocating room.

The room was filled with whispers and silent chatters, thinking that Ser Gwayne would be exempted on the consequences of the accident last night.

"You should be glad, you weren't exile from the position, because of your insolence the princess was harmed" Aemond move to him face to face. "She was supposed to be under your protection and what have you done?"

"You know what's the right punishment for you? I should have both your head and cock in a-"

"Aemond that's enough" the princess rose from her seat, her face expressed nothing but devastation, the old kind and glowing aura now long gone.

"You defend this guy? A man who was responsible for what happened to you?" Aemond's outrage grew more as her voice and words protected him.

"Please, its inelegant to cause a scene in the council room" she rose from her seat and walked towards them, her face that used to be filled with a joyous, harmonious and glowing light is long gone and changed with despair and agony. When she came near them his gaze drifted down on the small gray patch that was hiding under the collar of her dress.

A bruise. A mark that left to remind her about that night.

The princess noticed his attention to her bruise, she swiftly fixed her collar to hide the bruise. "Aemond that is enough please, I would like to rest please..." He noticed Aemond softens at her words when the prince pulled away from him and guide the princess outside the room.

•~•~•~•~•~

A week passes the memory of accident can't seem to be buried from the people inside the Keep's minds, all servants looked after the Queen Helaena and her younger sister more, their guards was replaced by knights of Casterly Rock, the security was more stricter, and it was killing Gwayne, a whole week he wasn't able to see her, he tried to get over it, convincing himself it was for the better but it did not work, Sevens whatever nonsense words he would say to himself it will never work.

The past few weeks people despise him, Aemond hated him rather, would often discreetly throw him vile insults but Gwayne paid no mind, and that's what anger the prince most.

And here they are, standing in front of him. The prince was on the training grounds when the prince Aemond saw him and challenged him for sword sparring.

"I challenge the Dowager Queen's brother"

"The irresponsible knight, Ser Gwayne" Gwayne rolled his eyes at the insult, Aemond was a young man who knows nothing but to throw vile insults thinking it would be the greatest weapon to have.

Criston was the first to spoke. "My prince Ser Gwayne Hightower is your uncle it would be disrespectful to challenge your older uncle-"

Criston explained but looks like the prince has no intention of listening. It was no secret of Gwayne's skills, an expert in sword and combat, he was raised for the specific specialty as an heir and knight he was taught to hold a sword and fight at a very young age, and he excels.

"It's much more disrespectful to neglect a prince offer, doesn't it?" His one eye placed on his.

Gwayne offered a small smile and nod before he bows for respect. "You are truly right my prince, a shame on my part to neglect your generosity, and it would be an honor to-"

"Honor?" Targaryen prince muttered under his breath with a loud scoff. "Honor is the last thing you deserve uncle"

With the prince last words, he draws his sword and begin to attack the Hightower knight. Everyone on the training grounds did not plan or even wish to intervene between the two skilled swordmen, not even Ser Criston Cole. On the upper part of the castle the King Aegon took a sip from his goblet while watching with a smug look on his face, beside him was the Lord of whispers, Ser Larys Strong.

"Look at them fighting over my dear little sister, what a cunt deprive they are." Aegon laughs watching two kin of his dwell.

"I beg your pardon you grace, Prince Aemond?" Larys asked, he did not expect a such thing from the one-eyed prince, to waste his time and defeat his own for a woman.

"Y/N was the only woman he ever loved, our dearest sister who showed her nothing but gentleness" Aegon explained his hand rotates clockwise to stir the wine in goblet. "Did you not notice how he was not fazed by the idea of betrothing Y/N to Oscar Tully, the Lord of one of the most important houses in the realm but rather he was threatened by a simple knight, our uncle to be exact" Aegon laughs loudly, he finds it quite entertaining to see two dumb men kill each other for a cunt.

But on the other hand, Larys seems like not to get his idea. ''What do you try to say, your grace?"

The sound of laughing that covered them disappeared, the King raised an eyebrow at him, but it later turned into a sly smile.

"Aemond knows who his enemies are, but he only attacks the ones he knows he will lose to" he looked back down the grounds, Aemond was behind Gwayne the prince arm wrapped around the knight's neck.

"Because he knows he has no chance of winning over Ser Gwayne" Aegon said and place his goblet, letting out a loud burp.

Back on the ground the guards were growing worried of the two, Gwayne's army tried to intervene but Gwayne command them not to.

"You think just because you are the brother of the previous Queen you have the right put your hands on the princess?" Aemond whispered his grip tightening.

Gwayne knew, the overprotectiveness, the insults Aemond made after the accidents, the small jealousy that would flash on the prince face when she defended him. Those was plainly all because of his romantic feeling for her.

"I am far better than you could ever be Aemond" he replied striking his elbow right to his patched eye, resulting him to fall on the ground. Gwayne was fast to take his sword from the ground and points it towards the prince.

it made everyone gasp, a treasonous act was displayed.

"Perhaps the prince would wish to ask for different opponent next time, someone who has the same level of skills like him" he said before finally throwing the sword and turning his back. His back dropped to the cold ground, and a sharp dagger was pointed at his neck.

"You shall know your place in here......uncle" Aemond remind him.

Looking around he can see the concerned eyes of his men, but neither of the two paid minds. Aemond pushed his dagger furthermore earning a loud groan from the knight beneath him. "No one in this people would dare to question me if I slit your pretty neck-

"Aemond"

All of the attention moved to the princess on the door, behind him was the King Aegon that has a wide annoying smile. Quickly Aemond removed himself above the knight and simply left the training grounds without uttering any words. Before the prince passed her by, she whispered to him.

"What is this about Aemond?" her voice lingered on Aemond's ear.

"You shall not know my dear sister" he only smiled and resume to walk pass her.

The youngest princess sighed out her frustration, oh she knew, she has always known. He did not perfectly hide it. Her gaze moved towards the knights that was helping Gwayne to stand up, the bruises was starting to swell as well as her worries for her.

"Bring Ser Gwayne in my chambers now" she commanded before leaving the grounds.

Her heart was beating fast as she reached the hospital wing of the castle and gathered the things and medicines she will need. She was worried and guilty she knew the exact reason why Aemond did that, she knew her mother will be vexed if someone told her what she just commanded those people earlier. No one was supposed to go near her other than her brothers, sister and mother.

When she opened her chambers, Gwayne was sitting on the chaste his armor is still on, her hands were shaking as she placed the medicines on the top of her drawer. After that night she don't know how she will be able to face him again.

"Princess the Queen would not be pleased to know that you invited me in your chamber without anyone to chaperone"

She exhales and pretend like she did not hear him. "Remove your armor and lay down the chaste."

"But princess-"

"I will not repeat myself again"

Gwayne pressed his lips together and diligently nod and did what he was told to. He was having a hard time removing the damn armors around him, his body was still sore from what all the prince did to him earlier.

The princess immediately moved towards him and helped him with removing his armors, it stunned the knight at the sudden proximity. For a moment he was breathless with her closeness to him, her hands slowly put down the heavy plates and armors around him and Gwayne was finally relieved from his armor she moved back to take a cotton with a medicine to heal his cuts.

Gwayne sat still on her chaste, she sat beside him to tend his wounds, the first tap earns a groan from him, she whispered him to calm down.

How can he? when she was that close and beautiful

But after few minutes they both grew comfortable with each one's presence, Gwayne's body was leaned against the chaste while she was tapping a medicine in the long slit Aemond made on his neck.

She wanted to cry at that moment, she wanted to talk to him about that night even though he made it clear.

"I apologize for what Aemond did, he can be very impulsive sometimes" she managed to start a conversation with her hoping that he would reply.

"He loves you" Gwayne stated, it was hard to let out those words because he did not want to acknowledge someone's romantic feelings for her, but other than that he was scared that you might feel the same towards Aemond.

"I do not wish to talk about that, Aemond is nothing but a brother to me and it will always remain that way" she explained her eyes fixated on his neck, everything about him was gorgeous.

"I apologize for that night princess, I was supposed to be there, to protect you" his words made her froze.

Once again, she was reminded by the horrible night that happened to her, she composed herself as she gathered all the used cottons, the memory of the incident still lingers inside her head, she intends to forget about those as much as she can.

Gwayne noticed her abrupt movements, when she stood up to move away Gwayne had caught her arms pulling her back down on the chaste, his arms snakes behind her and pushed her body close to him. Their closeness did not help the longingness their trying to suppress.

"Please know, I cry out for you, the one thing I can't have" Gwayne spoke as he gently tucks some of her hair strands behind her ear.

"Please do not play with my feelings by doing this you only make-" she was cut off when he seal her into a kiss.

She can feel her muscles relax above him, her hands automatically landing on his chest while she tried to deepen the kiss. She was drowning at their kiss. Meanwhile, Gwayne carefully guided her body above him, his hand behind her waist while the other one was placed on her face.

The two separated to catch their breaths, Gwayne moved his forehead towards her. "Forgive me, my love" his voice was regretful.

"Every night my love, I did nothing but pray to the Gods for their forgiveness and yours, every night I wished to be on your side and comfort you, every night I think of no one but you. Forgive me princess for being a coward daft" he pleaded; his fingers intertwined with her as he brushes his lips to her hand.

"Gwayne that night when they were...." she could not bring to mention the words of what happened to her. "In my mind I was shouting your name hoping you would hear me and save me, I prayed to the Gods to bring you and save me from that horrid situation" her lips formed a smile

A bitter smile with her watery eyes was displayed infront of him. And it shattered him.

"But you shall not to blame yourself" her voice became hopeful, her eyes settled above his blue ones. "I would not be please to burden yourself with guilt"

"i tried to resist my feelings for you, you know" he chuckles. Their body wrapped around each other, "but I was only fooling myself, telling myself that I wasn't devastated by the news of your betrothal with Lord Tully, or whenever prince Aemond was all over you. I had to convince and to repeat to myself that I was in no position to feel that way"

"My betrothal to Oscar Tully is now gone, you have nothing to worry" she explained and sat up beside him.

Gwayne only nodded as he brings his lips to her knuckles "I don't care if it's to happen or not, no matter what will happen I will forever fight for your hand, no matter what consequences I will face"

"Gwayne if you wish we can keep this as a secret"

"I do not wish nor intend to darling" he cupped her cheeks and pulled him into another kiss.

This time he will do everything to have her, he will not leave Kings Landing without her by his side.

His lips move down to her collarbone, his finger moved the fabric that was covering the bruise, the princess tried to hide it, but he stopped her. He pressed his lips on the top of the bruise lightly not wanting to hurt her, if only his lips could remove these horrid marks and replace it with his own, he would gladly do it.

He switched positions with hers, now she was beneath him.

"You must rest, your wounds and bruises are not healed" the princess smiled and stood up, she led him towards her bed.

Tiredness covers the two as they both lay on the bed, when Gwayne opened his eyes, it was almost night he removed himself from her bed and starts wearing his armor again, he has to talk to her sister and start explaining everything, he placed a kiss right on top of her head before exiting her room.

A soon as he closed the door of her chamber, the familiar dagger was settled once again on his neck.

"Does the bruises of my punches not enough or maybe I shall fully-"

Aemond wasn't able to finish his sentence when Gwayne was fast to get the dagger out from his grasp, and quickly moved on Aemond's back, his arm wrapped around the prince neck while his other arm swiftly placed on the top of his other eye.

"I have been patient with you boy" Gwayne spoke, the tip of the dagger moved closer to the prince eye. "But I must tell you that everyone has their limits"

He let go of the prince, gasping for air before Aemond scowled "Do you think the King and your Queen sister would approve of this? no, you will be exiled not only from here but from your position or even worse you'll end up beheaded"

Gwayne showed no hint of fear, "You are right, there's uncertainty of what I am about to do, my life, position and honor will be put in risk because of my actions, but if there is something I cannot risk is my love for the princess."

He had come to the point where he was desperate to be with her.

"I can and I will risk everything just to have her, even if the only chance is impossible, for her I would gladly risk it, my prince"

Gwayne always knew the importance of honor, being the heir of the King's Hand, his father didn't miss any day of reminding him about it, and growing up his principle was just like his father's. But now he was ready to bend everything for her no matter at what cost.

"Prince Aemond you have no idea how far I will go just to prove my love her, you don't know the things I'm willing to do for her."

Gwayne stated before finally walked past the one-eyed prince all confound.

A/N: hello doves i am truly sorry for the long and slow updates, life's been quite busy, had a lot of things going on but anyways please know that i am slowly working on your requests.

#hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #fanfic #hotd x reader #house of the dragons #gwayne hightower fanfic #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower imagine #gwayne x reader #ser gwayne #hotd imagine #hotd season 2 #hotd

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