justdillydally

[justdillydally]

Gwayne Hightower moonboard

"Do you think nothing of your oath, Lord Commander?"

Hotd Character Moonboards

[justdillydally]

some people think writers are so eloquent and good with words, but the reality is that we can sit there with our fingers on the keyboard going, “what’s the word for non-sunlight lighting? Like, fake lighting?” and for ten minutes, all our brain will supply is “unofficial”, and we know that’s not the right word, but it’s the only word we can come up with…until finally it’s like our face got smashed into a brick wall and we remember the word we want is “artificial”.

[justdillydally]

Will You Still Love Me? (Gwayne Hightower x OFC) Chapter 5

Chapter Summary: Another prince was born, and trouble seems to be brewing in the Vale

Chapter Rating/Trigger Warning for the chapter: Non-graphic description of birth

Note: I hope you enjoy this one

@deniixlovezelda @loverslikeghosts

<a href="https://www.tumblr.com/justdillydally/759136953047433216/will-you-still-love-me-gwayne-hightower-x-ofc-1?source=share">Chap 1</a>

<a href="https://www.tumblr.com/justdillydally/759867550032117760/will-you-still-love-me-gwayne-hightower-x-ofc-2?source=share">Chap 2</a>

<a href="https://www.tumblr.com/justdillydally/759867550032117760/will-you-still-love-me-gwayne-hightower-x-ofc-2?source=share">Chap 3</a>

<a href="https://www.tumblr.com/justdillydally/772201473795915776/will-you-still-love-me-gwayne-hightower-x-ofc?source=share">Chap 4</a>

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Chapter 5:

Rhaenyra’s scream echoed in Maegor’s Keep. Her hand turning white, clutching tightly on the sheet hand as beads of sweat lined up on her forehead. Blood and sweat permeated the air; the princess breathed heavily.

Rhaella stood on the princess’ side together with Rhaenyra’s other lady-in-waiting, Lady Elinda Massey. “Hold on, Princess. We’re here for you.” Rhaella soothed her cousin with her hand on her shoulder. It has only been the third time to witness the birthing bed, a fate that awaited her and many ladies, which left her feeling anxious.

Rhaenyra's face contorted with pain as another contraction surged through her. "The babe is almost out, your grace," a maester informed Rhaenyra.

“It’s coming out.” Rhaenyra managed to speak, her voice hoarse with the screaming.

Rhaella gave a nod, encouraging her cousin. “You can do it.”

A second later, another cry filled the room, coming from Rhaenyra, followed by another one, which was the new life that came from the Realm’s Delight.

“It’s a boy, your grace,” the Maester announced.

The small, bloody, wringing body of the babe was handed over to the midwives. All eyes fell onto the newborn as the midwives washed over the fluids that clung to the babe.

Rhaella stepped back, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The weight on her chest lessened as she watched Rhaenyra cradle her newborn son. The way her cousin held Lucerys made her realize all the discomfort that Rhaenyra had during her pregnancy suddenly was all forgotten. Her cousin placed a hand over the babe, and she watched Lucerys grip it. With an exhausted smile, she turned to Elinda and Rhaella. "Thank you for staying," Rhaenyra whispered softly.

“I must take my leave, your grace. I shall let you rest.” Rhaella squeezed her cousin's hand one final time before stepping away, leaving the midwives and healers to tend to the aftermath. While it was her duty to be with the princess as one of the princess’s ladies-in-waiting, she only saw it fit to offer whatever help she could to her cousin. She was like the older sister she never had.

Rhaella’s steps quickened as she left Rhaenyra’s chambers. Her strides quick and short, wanting to spend time with Willam before he leaves for Runestone the next day. Reaching Willam’s quarters, her eyes scurried the room, and her mouth gapped at the sight of Allard packing the clothes and, her cousin, Willam himself, wearing his breastplate.

“Willam? I thought you would leave for the morrow and not today? ”Confusion laced her voice, her eyes narrowing at her cousin.

With a heavy sigh, Willam replied. “I was supposed to, dear cousin. However, I received word about Uncle Gerold. He has gone missing for days now.” The knight took a parchment on the table and handed it to Rhaella.

“I thought he was guarding the Gates of the Moon?”Taking the parchment, Rhaella looked at Willam first before reading the letter.

“He’s been missing ever since he led an attack on one of the savages in the mountains.” Willam’s jaw tightened. "We need to act quickly before the situation worsens."

"I want to help," Rhaella said firmly, though she could feel the trouble that could arise from their choice. "I'll come to the Vale and help search for him."

Willam shook his head, his face softened with his cousin's plan. "Rhaella, it’s too dangerous. The mountains are filled with those tribesmen, and you’re needed here."

Crossing her arms, she looked up at Willam. “I know it’s dangerous. They don’t need me here. My lessons can wait. Uncle Gerold is family, and he's far more important,” she insisted.

“You can’t risk your life. You’re one nameday away from ruling Runestone.” Willam placed a hand over her shoulder and attempted his best to make her understand.

She uncrossed her arms and threw it in the air. “How can the people of Runestone expect me to protect them if I can’t even bring our uncle back? ”

“That won’t happen, Rhaella. I’ll bring him back. Unless you doubt my ability?”He asked with an arched brow.

Shaking her head profusely, she continued to argue. “That’s not the case, Willam, and you know it. Mother and I used to ride in the mountains. I know the terrain as well. I won’t be a liability,” she insisted.

“Even if you manage to convince me, cousin. It’s not for me to decide.” Willam sighed in defeat.

“Then I shall try to get the King’s approval,” she said, jutting her chin.

The royal family had gathered in the Great Hall for dinner, the long table set with a variety of dishes. King Viserys sat at the head, his face lined with weariness. Queen Alicent sat beside him while Princess Rhaenyra remained in her chamber, resting after hours of childbirth.

The meal began with light conversation, the usual banter between the royal children and courtly matters. Rhaella, however, remained silent, her thoughts focused on Runestone and Uncle Gerold. Halfway through the meal, she spoke up, her voice cutting through the hum of conversation. "Your Grace," she said, addressing King Viserys, "I wish to go to the Vale."

The King looked up from his meal; surprise flickered in his violet eyes. "The Vale?"

"Uncle Gerold is missing," she continued, her tone urgent but respectful. "He was last seen fighting the clansmen in the mountains, and I want to help search for him."

There was a pause at the table, the weight of her request settling over. Viserys exchanged a glance with Alicent, who wore a look of measured consideration.

"It is dangerous, Rhaella," Viserys said slowly. "The mountains are treacherous, and the Vale is no place for a lady—"

"I will be Lady of Runestone, and I am no stranger to the mountains of the Vale," Rhaella interrupted, though she softened her tone to avoid offending him. "I know the land better; I know how to track people, and I have faced the tribesmen before. I do not want the people of Runestone to think I sit prettily in the Red Keep without aiding my uncle." She explained, violet eyes meeting the same ones.

The King shifted on his chair, eyes glazed, weighing in the words of his niece. “Rhaella, it will be prudent that you remain safe. We will send a few soldiers with Ser Willam to help him with his quest.”

She bit her lip, avoiding the King’s gaze. Tread carefully, she reminded herself. With a deep breath, she spoke once again. “Your Grace, please.” Her eyes pleading, not just a subject but as his own niece.

“Your safety is of utmost importance. Your people will not see less of you if you choose to stay here in King’s Landing.” The King has spoken firmly, not giving Rhaella any room for argument.

The Queen watched the interaction between them, a hand reached out to the King’s arm. “I will have Ser Gwayne accompany the soldiers and Ser Willam if that will put you at ease, Lady Rhaella.”

Her jaw tightened while she looked at the King and Queen. With a nod of her head, she huffed. “Thank you, your Grace. I understand.” She did not spare another glance at them before she began to eat and finish her meal in quiet. 

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Leaning against the stone wall with crossed arms, Rhaella watched as soldiers, squires, and servants swarmed the courtyard of the Red Keep. The soldiers for the journey were getting picked; servants and squires moved back and forth carrying trunks and armories to the courtyard. Willam is collecting his belongings while I remain stuck in here.

“It’s not fitting for a lady to sulk in the corner.” A deep voice drawled beside her, interrupting her reverie.

“I’m not sulking, Ser Qarl,” she grumbled, pushing herself against the wall.

A chuckle escaped from Qarl. “It’s for the best, Lady Rhaella.”

After a moment of silence, a thought entered her mind, and a smile began to tug at the corners of her lips. “Perhaps you’re right, Ser Qarl. May I ask a favor of you?” She clasped her hands behind her back, feigning an air of innocence.

“What is it that you need?” A frown formed on Ser Qarl's face.

“I’m the safest in the Red Keep, am I not?”

“You are, my lady.” He answered, his tone dripping with suspicion.

“If I’m not going to the Vale, may I request that you join my cousin on his expedition? ”

His brow formed a fine line. “But my duty is to serve and protect you.“

“I know you’re sworn to protect me," she took a step forward towards the knight and added, "but I need all the capable hands we can get to help find my uncle. I trust Willam, but it will put myself at ease if you’re there to watch his back.”

“Willam’s a capable knight.”

“He is, Ser. By joining Willam and the others, you’ll be protecting Runestone’s interest and my peace of mind. You'll be saving me from the trouble of staying up late thinking about the journey," Rhaella explained.

“My lady—”

“Ser Qarl, I promise I will not head off to the woods to practice without you.” She swore.

“You swear you’ll be safe?” Qarl asked her, not blinking an eye.

“I give you my word,” she assured him.

With a huff, Ser Qarl bobbed his head. “I will join Ser Willam and Ser Gwayne. You must remain in the castle while we go find your uncle.”

“You have my gratitude, Ser Qarl. She beamed at him, dipping her knee to curtsy.

The knight grumbled before excusing himself to get necessary possessions for the journey. Once Ser Qarl was out of sight, she scurried away. Running in the corridors to the Red Keep, Rhaella navigated the castle with ease. In a particularly sharp turn, Rhaella tried to stop, but the collision was inevitable.

As she rounded a sharp corner, she collided with a solid figure. The force nearly sent her stumbling if not for the strong hands that held her steady.

Her breath hitched when she recognized the man before her; it was none other than Gwayne Hightower. He was already in his armor, almost reminding her of the day he participated in the tourney.

"We ought to stop meeting like this, my lady." His voice cool and smooth, accompanied by a faint smirk.

Rhaella blinked, and staring at the Hightower, words remained stuck in her throat. Gwayne’s hands lingered for a moment before he released her, taking a step back.

“My—my apologies, Ser Gwayne.” She stammered as the knight appeared to have been unfazed by the impact.

“No need for apologies,” Gwayne replied, his tone light. “Though I must admit, it’s curious to find you running about the castle.”

She straightened her back as she answered, “I was merely... taking a walk.”

He parroted, with an arched brow.“A walk? Is that what constitutes walking in the Vale? ”

“I’ve got a lesson...in embroidery.,” she said rather quickly.

"I did not know that you have a passion for embroidery." Gwayne chuckled, crossing his arms. “Very well, my lady. But perhaps next time, you might slow down. I’d hate to see you hurt yourself.”

"I will take caution," she promised.

Their eyes locked, and a moment of silence stretched between them. Rhaella considered her words briefly before speaking them. “You do not have to come help find my uncle, Ser. You have left Oldtown for a moon now; you must be missing your home.”

“The queen bids me to do this, and I shall fulfill my duty,” Gwayne answered.

Duty? Does the Queen really care about my uncle, or is it a scheme in the making? Despite her uncertainty, she chose to be cordial. Whatever intention the Hightowers have, they were still helping her. “I shall not prevent you from coming. The mountains in the Vale are a dangerous place. The tribesmen spare no one in their attacks. Not even children,” she warned.

A mirthless chuckle left the knight. “Yet you insist on coming. The King had enough wisdom to forbid you from this journey.”

"Uncle Gerold is like a second father to me," she explained. With her father fighting wars and getting himself exiled, Gerold Royce has been there for Rhaella.

His face softened a little; a small smile graced his lips. "We will try to get him back in time, my lady."

A smile curled at the corner of her lips. “I bid you good luck, Ser. You have my gratitude, and House Royce will remember your kindness.”

"I bid you good luck with your lesson," he said, emphasizing the last word.

She inclined her head in farewell, and Gwayne mirrored her action. "May the Seven guide you all."

With that, she turned and continued down the corridor, her steps doubled once she turned to another corridor, disappearing from his sight. She couldn’t afford any delay if she had to follow through with her plan.

Gwayne lingered in the corridor for a moment, his gaze fixed on where she had disappeared. Something about the encounter didn’t sit right with him, but he thought it best to ignore it.

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Squires prepared the horses, the servants attended to the supplies, and the knights inspected their armor in preparation for the journey they were about to embark on. The courtyard still buzzing with life in midday.

A pair of soldiers were flushed, carrying a heavy, large wooden chest in the courtyard. “Seven Hells, what did they put in this thing?” One of them groaned, carefully adjusting his grip on the chest. “Rocks? Books?”

The other soldier huffed out some air, having the same difficulty with his grip on the chest. “Does it matter? Lady Rhaella instructed that it should reach the Vale.” There was strain in his voice as he continued, “We’re close to the carriage.”

“Oi! Hurry up! We don’t have all day!” An older soldier barked at them before helping them maneuver the trunk to the space at the back of the carriage.

The chest creaked under the load, and when they placed the chest down to the carriage with a thud, the chest seemingly let out a groan. Both soldiers exchanged wary glances before looking back at the chest. “Did you hear that?”

"It’s made of wood and it’s old," the other replied dismissively, though his tone expressed the doubt in his mind.

The other leaned forward and whispered. "Could it be cursed?"

"Just get on!" The older soldier bellowed at the two, causing them to scramble away.

“Is everything all set?” Ser Willam Royce asked, holding the reins of his steed.

The man nodded profusely. “Everything is all set, Ser. The trunks are all in the carriage; all the horses and soldiers are accounted for.”

“Thank you.” Willam dipped his head in gratitude as he moved to greet his fellow knights. "We’ve got a long road ahead. And by my count, it will be a three-day journey before we reach the Vale." 

Gwayne inquired before mounting his horse. "Is it really wise to reach the hills at night?"

"It is. We're still far from where the savages made their home, and we’ll cut off half a day’s journey," Willam informed him.

"If you have a change of heart, there's a tavern just after the Rose Road where we can rest. I assure you that the meals they prepare are scrumptious," Gwayne recommended.

"We'll take it in mind, Ser Gwayne," Willam said with disinterest, not really considering the Hightower’s suggestion. Willam then turned to Qarl. "Have you seen Rhaella?"

"I have not since she asked me to join you here. She could be in her chamber sulking," Qarl replied as he mounted on his horse.

"I saw her a moment ago. She's been running about the corridors. On her way to her embroidery lesson," Gwayne disclosed to the other knights.

Qarl sensed something was off but shrugged it off. Willam mounted his horse, gripping the reins tightly. "Very well, let’s move out. The sooner we’re on the road, the sooner we'll reach the Vale."

[justdillydally]

Will You Still Love Me? (Gwayne Hightower x OFC) Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: A tea with the Green Queen

Chapter Rating/Trigger Warning for the chapter: Teenager and up audiences

Note: I try to be fateful to the canon but I have to tweak up some details to make it work in the fic. Alicent in this story is a mix of book and Season 1 HoTd. Thank you for the kudos from the previous chapter.

@deniixlovezelda @loverslikeghosts

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“Ser.” She bowed to Gwayne, her voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions churning within her, before she walked toward the King who had called for her to perform. As she moved away, she felt the lingering sensation of Gwayne’s gaze on her back, a reminder that their dance was far from over.

A lump formed on her throat with each step she took towards the king. Rhaella held her head high, ignoring Gwayne’s piercing gaze. Taking the space just beside the royal table, she had her hands clasped tightly together. Once the familiar melody was played, she took a deep breath and began to sing.

“Look how the light of the town,

Tlights of the town are shining now,

Tonight I'll be dancing around,

I'm off on the road to Galway now.

Look how she's off on the town,

She's off on a search for sailors though,

There's fine fellas here to be found,

She's never been one to stay at home.

Home you'll go and it's there you'll stay,

And you've work to do in the morning.

Give up your dream of going away,

Forget your sailors in Galway.

Come now and follow me down,

Down to the lights of Galway where,

There's fine sailors walking the town,

And waiting to meet the ladies there.

Watch now he'll soon be along,

He's finer than any sailor so,

Come on now pick up your spoons,

He's waiting to hear you play them.

Here today and she's gone tomorrow,

And next she's going to Galway,

Jiggin' around and off to town,

And won't be back until morning.”

Her voice smooth and melodious capturing all the eyes in the crowd. She bowed once the song was finished; the crowd cheered and gave her a round of applause.

“Thank you Rhaella.”King Viserys clasped a hand on her shoulder.

“ It’s my pleasure, your Grace.” She beamed a smile at him. “The tourney is a success. I’m pleased to be part of it although I’m afraid, I must head to my chambers. I might have drunk more wine than my stomach can carry.”

Viserys laughed merrily. “I bid you good night, niece.”

“Enjoy the rest of the festivities, Your Grace.” She curtsied to the King then to Queen Alicent whose eyes seemed like ready to bore a hole in her head.

She rushed to Qarl’s side, not wasting any second. Walking in haste with her escort to her chamber, she deliberately avoided the crowd, not giving Gwayne a chance to continue their dance.

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My Dearest Daughter,

After receiving the news particularly your brother and Rhaella, I commend you for raising this concern to me. Gwayne crowning Rhaella as Queen of Love and Beauty may be born of admiration and I shall be surprised if it has not reached Daemon’s ears. You are aware of Gwayne’s lack of interest with politics but with his actions, he is placing himself at the very center of it.

Targaryens are not completely immune to affection and should Gwayne pursue his feelings to Rhaella, it could be turned to our advantage. It is essential to keep Rhaella close keep her away from undue influence that could ruin her. Should she develop fondness to your brother, her allegiance may shift, and we may find an ally to her. She will be better off with his influence than her own father.

Your brother is stubborn and will refuse to play the games in the court of King’s Landing. Do not bid him against his will. You may help foster their relationship in the shadows, mend ways for them to spend time with one another without them realizing they are guided by us.

Though I am far from King’s Landing, know that I am with you in spirit, and I will continue to provide counsel as best I can.

With all my love,

Your father

Alicent threw the parchment onto the fireplace. The fire engulfed the letter, joining the pieces of darkened wood. “Has Lady Rhaella arrived from her morning ride?” She asked her ladies-in-waiting, eyes laid on the parchment that was turning into ash.

 “Yes, your Grace.” A reply came from one of her servants.

Once the Queen was certain that the letter was beyond recovery, she turned around to face her servants. “Have some tea prepared in the gardens and tell Lady Rhaella that I wish to have tea with her this afternoon.”

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After dedicating the entire morning to her training, Rhaella was more than ready for a moment of rest. Her pillows and sheets were neatly arranged, and without hesitation, she threw herself onto the bed. Exhaustion was beginning to take over, but she knew she couldn't stay long. Soon, she would have to leave her chamber to visit Princess Rhaenyra, whose babe was due any day now.

Her eyes had just closed when a knock on the door jolted her awake. A frustrated groan escaped her as she forced herself to sit up. “Who is it?” she called, rubbing her temples.

“Lady Genna, my lady. I serve as a lady-in-waiting to the Queen,” a familiar voice replied from behind the door.

Standing up, Rhaella quickly straightened her clothes and ran her fingers through her hair, attempting to tame the mess. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror but sighed in defeat; her efforts barely made a difference. "Please come in," she called, resigned.

The door creaked open, and a blonde woman in a blue dress entered. Lady Genna, who looked about the same age as Queen Alicent, curtsied. “Lady Rhaella,” she greeted formally.

Rhaella mirrored the gesture. “Lady Genna.”

“The Queen wishes to have tea with you in the gardens,” Genna announced.

Wishes? Rhaella knew better than to believe it was merely a request. Ser Qarl, who stood near the door, gave Lady Genna a wary glance before turning his gaze to Rhaella. “Tea we shall have, then,” Rhaella said, smiling faintly. “But I will need a moment to prepare. I doubt the Queen would appreciate me arriving in such a state.”

Genna’s lips curled into a polite, tight-lipped smile. “I shall inform Her Grace.”

“Thank you, Lady Genna,” Rhaella replied, watching as the woman departed. She exchanged a brief, concerned look with Qarl. No words were necessary—they both knew this sudden invitation was more than it seemed.

“Fetch my ladies, Ser Qarl. I’ll need some assistance,” Rhaella instructed with a grimace.

Without a word, Qarl left to fulfill her command. Alone, Rhaella stared at her reflection in the mirror, her brow furrowed in thought. What could the Queen want? What did she know? When her ladies arrived, they helped her dress, braiding her hair and ensuring she looked presentable in the Queen’s presence, knowing full well how much Alicent valued decorum.

When she entered the gardens in her red and black gown, Rhaella carried herself with poise and elegance. A small table and chairs were set up in the corner, and Queen Alicent was already seated, nibbling on a piece of cheese, her green dress blending with the garden’s lush surroundings. Lemon cakes and cheese adorned the table, alongside a teapot and two empty cups.

“Your Grace, thank you for the invitation,” Rhaella said, bending her knee in a respectful curtsy.

Alicent rose, her smile practiced but cordial. “Lady Rhaella, thank you for joining me. I thought it might be pleasant to enjoy the gardens, especially with the weather so fair.”

A servant poured tea as the two women sat. Rhaella clasped her hands together tightly, unsure of how to begin the conversation. Did Gwayne say something to her? Had Rhaella unwittingly angered him? Was she about to be punished?

The Queen broke the silence, to Rhaella’s relief. “It must have been quite the surprise yesterday—my brother crowning you the Queen of Love and Beauty.” Her tone was soft, gentle.

“It was, Your Grace. I am honored that Ser Gwayne bestowed the title upon me,” Rhaella replied, a polite smile matching the Queen’s.

She stirred her tea, avoiding Alicent’s gaze. “I grew up far from Gwayne, but I know he does not play false courtesy like many at court. His actions have garnered attention, along with your name. I hope the attention isn’t overwhelming,” the Queen added, her words seemingly kind, but with an undertone of curiosity.

Does the Queen worry about her brother's attachment? Rhaella chose her words carefully. “Rumors and whispers are part of court life. I appreciate your concern, Your Grace, and I understand if you are worried for Ser Gwayne.” Her violet eyes met the Queen’s, unblinking.

Alicent’s expression softened. “I know how difficult it is to have eyes on your every move, to have people judge your every action.” She sipped her tea, eyeing Rhaella over the rim. “I care for my brother deeply, as I care for you, Rhaella. Navigating the Red Keep without proper guidance can be dangerous, and I would hate for either of you to be caught in rumors that do neither of you justice.”

Rhaella took a slow sip of tea, buying herself time. Her spine straightened as she considered her response. “I assure you, Your Grace, Ser Gwayne and I… we are merely acquaintances. There is nothing more between us.” There could be nothing between us, she thought, forcing the idea away.

Silence lingered again as Rhaella picked up a piece of lemon cake, while the Queen finished her tea. Rhaella knew it would be difficult for Alicent to trust her. After all, she was the daughter of the Rogue Prince, and many at court believed she would follow in his footsteps.

Alicent set her cup down with a gentle clink, breaking the quiet. “I hope you do not find my words too over scrupulous. You are still young, Rhaella, and you have many challenges ahead. I can only imagine what it must be like to be Prince Daemon’s daughter.”

Rhaella smiled, this time more genuinely. “My father is often away, fighting wars or in exile. He may not always be at my side, but he cares for me in his own way. His letters give me strength.” She couldn’t help but notice how Alicent’s eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of her father’s letters.

“I understand the importance of fathers, even from afar,” Alicent replied, her tone softer now. “My own father is in Oldtown, but we remain in close contact despite the distance.”

The Queen’s words struck a chord. “Daughters often bear a heavy burden, don’t we?” Rhaella said, her shoulders relaxing a bit. It was something her mother had always told her—that daughters were expected to appear strong, especially those in positions of power. Alicent’s father had moved mountains to place her as Queen, while Rhaella’s mother had always instilled in her the importance of duty as Runestone’s heir.

Alicent nodded, a touch of sadness in her smile. “I speak only from experience. Our duties are paramount, and we must tread carefully.”

For the first time since her arrival in King’s Landing, Rhaella glimpsed the woman behind the Queen’s mask. She finished the last of her now-cold tea and set her cup down. “I will take your words to heart, Your Grace.”

Alicent reached out, gently placing her hand over Rhaella’s. “That is all I ask.”

Rhaella met her gaze, unsure whether the Queen’s concern had truly reached her or if this was a subtle warning to stay away from Gwayne. Either way, the message was clear. “Thank you, Your Grace.

Walking briskly through the corridors of the Red Keep, Rhaella had no time to waste. Word had just reached her that Princess Rhaenyra was in labor. Yet, her thoughts lingered on the Queen’s sudden interest in her, concern clouding her mind. Did the Queen view her as a threat to her brother?

“Lady Rhaella.” If not for the auburn-haired knight blocking her path, she might have missed him.

“S-Ser Gwayne,” she stammered, her eyes flicking to his, drawn to the familiar blue.

“Is something troubling you?” he asked, his voice laced with worry as he bowed his head slightly.

“I—no.” Rhaella shook her head, unwilling to disclose her unsettling conversation with his sister.

Gwayne raised an eyebrow, studying her closely. “Your body is here, but your mind seems elsewhere. Either that, or you’ve been ignoring me.”

Had he been calling for her? Rhaella averted her gaze, scrambling for a response. “You need not worry, Ser. I’m merely concerned for the Princess’ wellbeing. She’s about to give birth.”

The knight sighed, stepping aside to lean against the stone wall. “I didn’t have the chance to bid you farewell last night. You left the festivities in such a rush, I wasn’t able to say goodbye.”

She clasped her hands tightly, summoning the courage to meet his eyes. “My apologies, Ser Gwayne. I had too much wine and couldn’t stay.”

Gwayne scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “You danced quite well for someone claiming to be drunk.”

Biting her tongue, Rhaella resisted the urge to retort, mindful of the secret Gwayne still held over her. She forced a polite smile. “My apologies if I caused any offense.”

“Lady Rhaella—” Gwayne began, but both turned toward the sound of boisterous laughter coming from around the corner. Rhaella’s brow furrowed at the noise.

“You should’ve heard her sing,” A deep voice and continued, “Doesn’t matter if she doesn’t have silver hair, she’s pretty enough.”

“Don’t forget, dragonless,” added another voice, higher-pitched than the first.

“A Targaryen without a dragon is like a cat without claws. Might be easier to tame her. But who knows?” More laughter followed, and Rhaella’s fists clenched at her sides. They didn’t need to name her; it was obvious who they were talking about.

Gwayne tensed, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword’s pommel.

“No.” Rhaella gently placed a hand on his arm.

“They are—” Gwayne started, his voice tight with restrained anger.

“They’re only speaking the truth,” she cut him off, her voice soft and tinged with sorrow. “I am a Targaryen without a dragon.” Tears welled in her violet eyes.

Gwayne’s posture slackened, his anger giving way to concern. “Lady Rhaella…”

She released his arm, quickly wiping away the tears. “I must go. The Princess needs me,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she hurried toward Maegor’s Keep.

Without another word, they parted in silence.

[justdillydally]

Will You Still Love Me? (Gwayne Hightower x OFC) 4

Chapter Summary: Rhaella received an unexpected invitation from none other the Queen herself.

Chapter Rating/Trigger Warning for the chapter:  Teen and up audiences

Note: This chapter is shorter compared to the previous one and I thought I should post this because it will take much longer I stick with the original plan. The song I posted in here is originally from ASOIAF and take no credit to it. We have Queen Alicent and a sneak peek of Otto scheming hehe. Let me know your thoughts! Thank you for the likes from the previous chapter. Hope you enjoy this one.

@deniixlovezelda @loverslikeghosts

“Ser.” She bowed to Gwayne, her voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions churning within her, before she walked toward the King who had called for her to perform. As she moved away, she felt the lingering sensation of Gwayne’s gaze on her back, a reminder that their dance was far from over.

A lump formed on her throat with each step she took towards the king. Rhaella held her head high, ignoring Gwayne’s piercing gaze. Taking the space just beside the royal table, she had her hands clasped tightly together. Once the familiar melody was played, she took a deep breath and began to sing.

“Look how the light of the town,

Tlights of the town are shining now,

Tonight I'll be dancing around,

I'm off on the road to Galway now.

Look how she's off on the town,

She's off on a search for sailors though,

There's fine fellas here to be found,

She's never been one to stay at home.

Home you'll go and it's there you'll stay,

And you've work to do in the morning.

Give up your dream of going away,

Forget your sailors in Galway.

Come now and follow me down,

Down to the lights of Galway where,

There's fine sailors walking the town,

And waiting to meet the ladies there.

Watch now he'll soon be along,

He's finer than any sailor so,

Come on now pick up your spoons,

He's waiting to hear you play them.

Here today and she's gone tomorrow,

And next she's going to Galway,

Jiggin' around and off to town,

And won't be back until morning.”

Her voice smooth and melodious capturing all the eyes in the crowd. She bowed once the song was finished; the crowd cheered and gave her a round of applause.

“Thank you Rhaella.”King Viserys clasped a hand on her shoulder.

“ It’s my pleasure, your Grace.” She beamed a smile at him. “The tourney is a success. I’m pleased to be part of it although I’m afraid, I must head to my chambers. I might have drunk more wine than my stomach can carry.”

Viserys laughed merrily. “I bid you good night, niece.”

“Enjoy the rest of the festivities, Your Grace.” She curtsied to the King then to Queen Alicent whose eyes seemed like ready to bore a hole in her head.

She rushed to Qarl’s side, not wasting any second. Walking in haste with her escort to her chamber, she deliberately avoided the crowd, not giving Gwayne a chance to continue their dance.

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My Dearest Daughter,

After receiving the news particularly your brother and Rhaella, I commend you for raising this concern to me. Gwayne crowning Rhaella as Queen of Love and Beauty may be born of admiration and I shall be surprised if it has not reached Daemon’s ears. You are aware of Gwayne’s lack of interest with politics but with his actions, he is placing himself at the very center of it.

Targaryens are not completely immune to affection and should Gwayne pursue his feelings to Rhaella, it could be turned to our advantage. It is essential to keep Rhaella close keep her away from undue influence that could ruin her. Should she develop fondness to your brother, her allegiance may shift, and we may find an ally to her. She will be better off with his influence than her own father.

Your brother is stubborn and will refuse to play the games in the court of King’s Landing. Do not bid him against his will. You may help foster their relationship in the shadows, mend ways for them to spend time with one another without them realizing they are guided by us.

Though I am far from King’s Landing, know that I am with you in spirit, and I will continue to provide counsel as best I can.

With all my love,

Your father

Alicent threw the parchment onto the fireplace. The fire engulfed the letter, joining the pieces of darkened wood. “Has Lady Rhaella arrived from her morning ride?” She asked her ladies-in-waiting, eyes laid on the parchment that was turning into ash.

 “Yes, your Grace.” A reply came from one of her servants.

Once the Queen was certain that the letter was beyond recovery, she turned around to face her servants. “Have some tea prepared in the gardens and tell Lady Rhaella that I wish to have tea with her this afternoon.”

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After dedicating the entire morning to her training, Rhaella was more than ready for a moment of rest. Her pillows and sheets were neatly arranged, and without hesitation, she threw herself onto the bed. Exhaustion was beginning to take over, but she knew she couldn't stay long. Soon, she would have to leave her chamber to visit Princess Rhaenyra, whose babe was due any day now.

Her eyes had just closed when a knock on the door jolted her awake. A frustrated groan escaped her as she forced herself to sit up. “Who is it?” she called, rubbing her temples.

“Lady Genna, my lady. I serve as a lady-in-waiting to the Queen,” a familiar voice replied from behind the door.

Standing up, Rhaella quickly straightened her clothes and ran her fingers through her hair, attempting to tame the mess. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror but sighed in defeat; her efforts barely made a difference. "Please come in," she called, resigned.

The door creaked open, and a blonde woman in a blue dress entered. Lady Genna, who looked about the same age as Queen Alicent, curtsied. “Lady Rhaella,” she greeted formally.

Rhaella mirrored the gesture. “Lady Genna.”

“The Queen wishes to have tea with you in the gardens,” Genna announced.

Wishes? Rhaella knew better than to believe it was merely a request. Ser Qarl, who stood near the door, gave Lady Genna a wary glance before turning his gaze to Rhaella. “Tea we shall have, then,” Rhaella said, smiling faintly. “But I will need a moment to prepare. I doubt the Queen would appreciate me arriving in such a state.”

Genna’s lips curled into a polite, tight-lipped smile. “I shall inform Her Majesty.”

“Thank you, Lady Genna,” Rhaella replied, watching as the woman departed. She exchanged a brief, concerned look with Qarl. No words were necessary—they both knew this sudden invitation was more than it seemed.

“Fetch my ladies, Ser Qarl. I’ll need some assistance,” Rhaella instructed with a grimace.

Without a word, Qarl left to fulfill her command. Alone, Rhaella stared at her reflection in the mirror, her brow furrowed in thought. What could the Queen want? What did she know? When her ladies arrived, they helped her dress, braiding her hair and ensuring she looked presentable in the Queen’s presence, knowing full well how much Alicent valued decorum.

When she entered the gardens in her red and black gown, Rhaella carried herself with poise and elegance. A small table and chairs were set up in the corner, and Queen Alicent was already seated, nibbling on a piece of cheese, her green dress blending with the garden’s lush surroundings. Lemon cakes and cheese adorned the table, alongside a teapot and two empty cups.

“Your Grace, thank you for the invitation,” Rhaella said, bending her knee in a respectful curtsy.

Alicent rose, her smile practiced but cordial. “Lady Rhaella, thank you for joining me. I thought it might be pleasant to enjoy the gardens, especially with the weather so fair.”

A servant poured tea as the two women sat. Rhaella clasped her hands together tightly, unsure of how to begin the conversation. Did Gwayne say something to her? Had Rhaella unwittingly angered him? Was she about to be punished?

The Queen broke the silence, to Rhaella’s relief. “It must have been quite the surprise yesterday—my brother crowning you the Queen of Love and Beauty.” Her tone was soft, gentle.

“It was, Your Grace. I am honored that Ser Gwayne bestowed the title upon me,” Rhaella replied, a polite smile matching the Queen’s.

She stirred her tea, avoiding Alicent’s gaze. “I grew up far from Gwayne, but I know he does not play false courtesy like many at court. His actions have garnered attention, along with your name. I hope the attention isn’t overwhelming,” the Queen added, her words seemingly kind, but with an undertone of curiosity.

Does the Queen worry about her brother's attachment? Rhaella chose her words carefully. “Rumors and whispers are part of court life. I appreciate your concern, Your Grace, and I understand if you are worried for Ser Gwayne.” Her violet eyes met the Queen’s, unblinking.

Alicent’s expression softened. “I know how difficult it is to have eyes on your every move, to have people judge your every action.” She sipped her tea, eyeing Rhaella over the rim. “I care for my brother deeply, as I care for you, Rhaella. Navigating the Red Keep without proper guidance can be dangerous, and I would hate for either of you to be caught in rumors that do neither of you justice.”

Rhaella took a slow sip of tea, buying herself time. Her spine straightened as she considered her response. “I assure you, Your Grace, Ser Gwayne and I… we are merely acquaintances. There is nothing more between us.” There could be nothing between us, she thought, forcing the idea away.

Silence lingered again as Rhaella picked up a piece of lemon cake, while the Queen finished her tea. Rhaella knew it would be difficult for Alicent to trust her. After all, she was the daughter of the Rogue Prince, and many at court believed she would follow in his footsteps.

Alicent set her cup down with a gentle clink, breaking the quiet. “I hope you do not find my words too overscrupulous. You are still young, Rhaella, and you have many challenges ahead. I can only imagine what it must be like to be Prince Daemon’s daughter.”

Rhaella smiled, this time more genuinely. “My father is often away, fighting wars or in exile. He may not always be at my side, but he cares for me in his own way. His letters give me strength.” She couldn’t help but notice how Alicent’s eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of her father’s letters.

“I understand the importance of fathers, even from afar,” Alicent replied, her tone softer now. “My own father is in Oldtown, but we remain in close contact despite the distance.”

The Queen’s words struck a chord. “Daughters often bear a heavy burden, don’t we?” Rhaella said, her shoulders relaxing a bit. It was something her mother had always told her—that daughters were expected to appear strong, especially those in positions of power. Alicent’s father had moved mountains to place her as Queen, while Rhaella’s mother had always instilled in her the importance of duty as Runestone’s heir.

Alicent nodded, a touch of sadness in her smile. “I speak only from experience. Our duties are paramount, and we must tread carefully.”

For the first time since her arrival in King’s Landing, Rhaella glimpsed the woman behind the Queen’s mask. She finished the last of her now-cold tea and set her cup down. “I will take your words to heart, Your Grace.”

Alicent reached out, gently placing her hand over Rhaella’s. “That is all I ask.”

Rhaella met her gaze, unsure whether the Queen’s concern had truly reached her or if this was a subtle warning to stay away from Gwayne. Either way, the message was clear. “Thank you, Your Grace.

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Walking briskly through the corridors of the Red Keep, Rhaella had no time to waste. Word had just reached her that Princess Rhaenyra was in labor. Yet, her thoughts lingered on the Queen’s sudden interest in her, concern clouding her mind. Did the Queen view her as a threat to her brother?

“Lady Rhaella.” If not for the auburn-haired knight blocking her path, she might have missed him.

“S-Ser Gwayne,” she stammered, her eyes flicking to his, drawn to the familiar blue.

“Is something troubling you?” he asked, his voice laced with worry as he bowed his head slightly.

“I—no.” Rhaella shook her head, unwilling to disclose her unsettling conversation with his sister.

Gwayne raised an eyebrow, studying her closely. “Your body is here, but your mind seems elsewhere. Either that, or you’ve been ignoring me.”

Had he been calling for her? Rhaella averted her gaze, scrambling for a response. “You need not worry, Ser. I’m merely concerned for the Princess’ wellbeing. She’s about to give birth.”

The knight sighed, stepping aside to lean against the stone wall. “I didn’t have the chance to bid you farewell last night. You left the festivities in such a rush, I wasn’t able to say goodbye.”

She clasped her hands tightly, summoning the courage to meet his eyes. “My apologies, Ser Gwayne. I had too much wine and couldn’t stay.”

Gwayne scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “You danced quite well for someone claiming to be drunk.”

Biting her tongue, Rhaella resisted the urge to retort, mindful of the secret Gwayne still held over her. She forced a polite smile. “My apologies if I caused any offense.”

“Lady Rhaella—” Gwayne began, but both turned toward the sound of boisterous laughter coming from around the corner. Rhaella’s brow furrowed at the noise.

“You should’ve heard her sing,” a deep voice said. “Doesn’t matter if she doesn’t have silver hair, she’s pretty enough.”

“Don’t forget, dragonless,” added another voice, higher-pitched than the first.

“A Targaryen without a dragon is like a cat without claws. Might be easier to tame her. But who knows?” More laughter followed, and Rhaella’s fists clenched at her sides. They didn’t need to name her; it was obvious who they were talking about.

Gwayne tensed, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword’s pommel.

“No.” Rhaella gently placed a hand on his arm.

“They are—” Gwayne started, his voice tight with restrained anger.

“They’re only speaking the truth,” she cut him off, her voice soft and tinged with sorrow. “I am a Targaryen without a dragon.” Tears welled in her violet eyes.

Gwayne’s posture slackened, his anger giving way to concern. “Lady Rhaella…”

She released his arm, quickly wiping away the tears. “I must go. The Princess needs me,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she hurried toward Maegor’s Keep.

Without another word, they parted in silence.

[justdillydally]

Will You Still Love Me? (Gwayne Hightower x OFC) 3

Chap 1 Chap 2

Chapter Summary: The tourney comes to an end.

Chapter Rating/Trigger Warning for the chapter: Teenager and up audiences, non-graphic description of violence (they're in a tourney)

Note: I try to be fateful to the canon but I have to tweak up some details to make it work in the fic. Alicent in this story is a mix of book and Season 1 HoTd. Thank you for the kudos from the previous chapter. The dancing might be a cliche but it's hard to resist hehe

@deniixlovezelda @loverslikeghosts

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Rhaella’s feet were heavy with each step she took around Princess’ Rhaeanyra’s chamber while she carried Jacaerys on her arm. Her brief encounter with the Hightower Knight left her frustrated and nervous. Perhaps she should have held her tongue and went along with him just to be in his good graces when he knew a secret that she had. One that could jeopardize Ser Qarl and whatever freedom she had left.

What if he already informed our encounter in Roseroad to his sister? Will I be brought to them immediately? What if they sharply questioned Ser Qarl about it? Perhaps they are still busy with the festivities that they haven’t had the chance to speak with each other?

The Queen once warned her about selecting good company at court when she first arrived. She was not blind to see the tension between the Queen and the Princess yet she ignored it. Rhaella was convinced that there was no need to choose between the two as they have treated her well, and that once she returned to Runestone, she would leave all the politicking that existed in the Court.

The Princess and her fellow lady-in-waiting, Lady Massey, were speaking of plans once the babe was born and they have yet to hear Rhaella’s voice. “Rhaella?” The Princess asked for her cousin’s attention yet her gaze remained bounded on the ground.

“Rhaella.” Massey called out her name loudly and it seemed to have done the trick.

“Yes?” Rhaella spun around looking at the two with a frown.

“We are speaking about the babe. It can come sooner than what the Maester estimated.” Massey informed her.

Rhaenyra tilted her head on the side, eyes laced with concern for her cousin. “You’ve been distracted since you returned from the tourney. Has anything happened, cousin?”

Having both eyes on her, she heaved a sigh and lowered Jacaerys to the ground. The moment the little prince stood up, he walked on wobbly legs towards his mother. “I’m merely exhausted with the tourney, your grace. You need not worry.” She mustered up courage to look back Rhaenyra. “The babe is the one we should be worrying about. Looks like they are excited to come out.” She shifted the conversation to where they should be focusing into.

“I can’t wait to meet the babe.” Rhaenyra placed a hand over Jacaery’s back and rubbed it as he clung to his mother’s leg.

“Have you thought of names, Your Grace?” Massey asked, sitting opposite to Rhaenyra.

The Princess run her hand over Jace’s dark locks before she spoke. “If it’s a girl, it shall be Visenya. If it’s a boy, I’ll name him Lucerys.”

“Those are good names.” Massey complimented her choice of name.

Rhaella nodded her head, delighted with the names that were chosen by the Princess. “They are. I hope it’s a girl. No one has carried Visenya’s name ever since she passed.” She has read tales of the great Targaryen woman, and while she had distaste for violence, there was no denying the accomplishment she has done for their family.

With the attention successfully turned to Rhaenyra, Rhaella felt partial relief. The last thing she wanted was to have Rhaenyra worry about her antics when she’s about to deliver another Prince into the world. She could hide in the Princess’ chamber while the festivities went on and avoid any interaction with Gwayne.

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“Brother.” Queen Alicent donning a beautiful green dress greeted her brother, behind her was her guards and ladies-in-waiting. “You made our House proud with your winnings at the tourney.”

Gwayne said with a bow.  “I do what I can to make our House proud, Your Grace.”

The distance between the siblings grew as they went on separate paths. The Queen has to tread carefully around the Court since their father was sent back to Oldtown leaving her mostly to her own devices. “You already do, Gwayne. You’ve moved forward to the next set of matches for the morrow. I shall pray to the warrior to guide you.”

A faint smile curled on Gwayne’s lips. “I thank you for your prayers sister.” His sister, the forever faithful, with her unfaltering devotion to the Gods. He knew that she always meant well despite his lack of confidence in the Seven Gods. “And I know you meant well for my being but will our conversation include Lady Rhaella?”

The reaction that the Queen elicited at the mention of the woman was enough to confirm his suspicions. He did not see the point in skirting around the subject unlike his sister who grew up to the intricacies in the Court.

The Queen pursed her lips, and nodded her head to answer Gwayne’s question. “I saw you speaking with Rhaella at the tourney,” Alicent said, her face turning serious. “It concerns me what you have in mind for her. You do know Daemon is her father.” It crossed her mind and her husband’s to have a suitable match for her, House Grafton from the Vale reached out to the King but it was quickly stumped before it grew into any fruition.

Once the rumours circulated, it somehow reached Daemon’s ears. Gulltown saw the Blood Wyrm flying high above the sky, and soon a raven was sent to King’s Landing rescinding House Grafton’s intent to ask Rhaella’s hand in marriage.

A reminder whom her father was, was unnecessary. Daemon left quite an impression on him when he attacked his horse during a tourney many years ago. There was no question that it was considered cheating yet being a Prince, it paved way for it to remain ignored. It was his intention to learn if Rhaella was anything like the famed Rogue Prince. “It was a mere courtesy. I only sought her favor. I wish her no harm.”

Malice or cruelty doesn’t seem to have touched Rhaella as it did Daemon’s soul but the young lady can stir up unwanted trouble should she follow the footsteps of the Princess. “I know you do not mean her harm. It’s you whom I worry not only because of her father. Rhaella… She is young and impressionable. If Rhaenyra managed to influence her, she may behave…recklessly and in turn, she might bring you harm.”

It was easy to understand where the Queen’s concerns came from. Rhaella’s farce as a minstrel placed her in unnecessary danger but he only saw it as a mean of rebellious streak perhaps than one born out of malice. The question remained: Why was she pretending to be a peasant? Perhaps it was a question he could ask of her when they cross their paths again.

He would not raise the information to the Queen just yet before he learn as he was not cruel to subject the Lady to face the consequences without knowing the whole story. His brief visit to King’s Landing proved itself to be entertaining with her presence and he would not let his sister rob him of it when he sees no harm with it. “I’ll be careful, sister.”

His reply seemed to have satisfied the Queen. “That’s all I can ask.” Before leaving the court yard, the Queen put her hand on his arm, “There will be a feast tonight with all the competing knights at the tourney. I look forward to seeing you there.”

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Hiding in the Princess' chambers had proven to be an effective strategy to avoid last night's festivities. However, her absence at the morning's tourney would certainly draw unwanted attention, something Rhaella was keen to avoid. As expected, the tourney grounds were once again filled with spectators, all eager to see who would emerge victorious.

Rhaella sat in the royal box, young Prince Aegon on her lap. Princess Helaena occupied the seat beside her, with Prince Aemond and Prince Daeron next to her. Behind them sat the elder members of the royal family—King Viserys, Queen Alicent, Rhaenys, and Corlys Velaryon—along with the rest of the King’s small council.

House Royce had failed to secure a spot in the final round against House Lannister, but Rhaella felt proud of how far Willam had progressed in the tournament. Aegon squirmed in her arms, his little hand pointing at the knights on their horses below.

“Wook, wook!” Aegon cried in excitement, his eyes wide with wonder. “Gowden wion!”

Rhaella smiled at the boy's enthusiasm. “Yes, my Prince. The Lion is House Lannister’s banner.” She pointed to the field where the Lannister banner fluttered in the breeze. Ser Jason Lannister, resplendent in golden armor, sat proudly on his steed. Show off, Rhaella thought with a hint of disdain.

The roar of the crowd grew deafening as Ser Jason’s opponent entered the lists—Ser Gwayne Hightower. The tension in the air was palpable, with all eyes fixed on the two knights. Aegon squirmed again in her lap.

“Uncle,” Aegon whispered, pointing at Ser Gwayne.

“Yes, it’s your Uncle Gwayne,” Rhaella confirmed, holding the little prince securely.

Aegon wasn’t the only one who found it hard to sit still. Rhaella herself was on edge. It should have been satisfying to watch Ser Gwayne be humbled after his arrogance the previous day, but instead, she found herself anxiously leaning forward.

The two knights took their places at opposite ends of the field, the crowd falling silent in anticipation. Both men had proven their worth to reach the finals. The first pass was fierce—both knights charged at full speed, their lances crashing against shields with a thunderous force. Splinters flew, but both knights remained firmly in their saddles, prompting cheers from the crowd.

The second pass began, and this time, Ser Jason aimed for Gwayne’s helm, while Gwayne targeted Jason’s chest. Ser Jason's strike fell short, failing to hit his mark. Gwayne, however, landed a decisive blow. His lance shattered Ser Jason’s shield and struck the Lannister square in the torso, unhorsing him with a single, powerful hit.

The crowd erupted in cheers for the last knight standing. Gwayne rode his horse around the field, removing his helm and raising his lance in victory. His gaze quickly found Rhaella in the royal box, and she let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

In line with tradition, the victor of the tourney had to name the Queen of Love and Beauty—a title often bestowed upon the knight’s chosen lady. Gwayne’s eyes remained fixed on Lady Rhaella as he trotted forward, halting in front of the royal box. He bowed low in his saddle, his voice ringing out across the arena. “For Lady Rhaella Targaryen, the Queen of Love and Beauty,” he declared, raising the wreath of flowers on the end of his lance.

The crowd fell into a murmur of curiosity. The weight of their attention on Rhaella was inescapable. She forced a practiced smile, accepting the wreath that the knight offered her. The crowd soon broke into applause at the knight’s choice and the King’s niece’s acceptance of the title.

Queen Alicent’s eyes shifted from Rhaella to her brother. A silent resolve formed within her—she would have to inform their father of what had transpired during Gwayne’s visit to the Red Keep.

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Evening fell, and the feast for the Queen and King’s anniversary was in full swing. Boisterous laughter echoed through the Red Keep’s throne room, where wine flowed freely and music filled the air. The lavish interior welcomed hundreds of nobles who had attended the tourney, along with knights who partook despite their injuries.

Rhaella sat at the royal table, somewhat removed from the lively crowd, trying to enjoy the festivities. Runestone could never host as many guests as the Red Keep, nor did it have a reason to. Eyes followed her, and she could feel the weight of gossip about Gwayne crowning her the Queen of Love and Beauty.

Her father had always reminded her that it didn’t matter what people said about her; she was a Targaryen, and others’ opinions were inconsequential. But were they truly above the laws of men? Daemon Targaryen certainly thought so, and while she admired her father, she knew he bore the title of 'Rogue Prince' for a reason.

Her fingers tapped the table anxiously, waiting for any sign that Ser Gwayne had spilled her secret to the Queen. If the Queen knew, Ser Qarl wouldn’t be standing discreetly in the corner, ready to escort her back to her chambers, nor would the King have remained silent.

What if they were just waiting until the feast ended? To spare me the embarrassment and let me enjoy the evening first?

A wrinkled hand suddenly appeared before her, and she looked up to see an elderly lord, barely able to stand and reeking of wine. A broad smile spread across his lips as he bowed clumsily. “Lady Rhaella! Queen of Love and Beauty...” His words slurred, making it difficult for Rhaella to understand what he wanted. All she could discern was the word ‘dance.’

She stood, ready to politely decline the invitation when another figure intervened. “Forgive me, my Lord, but Lady Rhaella has promised me this dance.” Gwayne Hightower stepped forward, a confident smile on his face as he addressed the older lord before turning to Rhaella.

She raised an eyebrow at Gwayne, who offered his hand with a silent challenge in his eyes. Reluctantly, she accepted. “My apologies, my Lord. I must honor my word to Ser Gwayne.”

The old lord, too inebriated to argue, grumbled and stepped away. It was too late for Rhaella to withdraw, and as the music began, Gwayne led her onto the dance floor, where nobles swayed to the rhythm. He moved with practiced ease, guiding her through the steps. The music swelled around them, a soft melody that set the pace for their movements. Rhaella kept her gaze averted, focusing instead on the intricate patterns of the marble floor beneath her feet.

“Is this how they dance in the Vale?” Gwayne teased, his voice low and playful.

“What do you mean, Ser?” Rhaella replied, her tone guarded as she kept her eyes fixed on the floor.

“Do women in the Vale avoid their partner’s eyes?” Gwayne pressed, his voice a mixture of amusement and curiosity as he observed her.

“No. We do not,” she answered, finally daring to glance up at him, though her gaze quickly darted away.

Gwayne leaned in slightly, his voice a whisper against the noise of the hall. “Then why are you doing it? You do know people are watching, my Lady.”

Rhaella’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she kept her composure. “I don’t want any accidents to happen,” she replied, her voice measured.

Gwayne’s smile was infuriatingly calm, a soft curve of his lips that hinted at hidden thoughts. “You put little faith in me. Do you think I’m a terrible dance partner?” he asked, his eyes locked onto hers, daring her to look away again.

“It’s not you. The fault lies with me,” Rhaella admitted, her voice quieter now. “My mother saw little need for me to learn to dance. She was practical with my education, as was my father.”

Gwayne’s hand on her waist tightened slightly, reassuringly. “Don’t think too much about it,” he said, his tone soothing. “Look at me and let me guide you.”

Rhaella hesitated for a moment before finally meeting his gaze. Their eyes locked, and the world around them seemed to fade into the background. The tension between them eased as they found their rhythm, moving together more fluidly now.

“Thank you, Ser Gwayne,” she said, her voice softer, almost reluctant to admit her gratitude.

“Dancing is one of my many hidden talents,” Gwayne replied with a playful smirk, his hand guiding her effortlessly through the steps.

Rhaella’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “Not just for saving me earlier,” she clarified, her tone more serious. “I still don’t understand why you granted me the title of Queen of Love and Beauty.”

Gwayne’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he led her into a graceful turn. “Do you think you don’t deserve it?” he asked, his voice teasing yet sincere.

Rhaella’s smile faded, replaced by a more thoughtful expression. “Don’t play games with me, Ser,” she warned, her voice tinged with caution. “I know your House bears no love for my father, and I can assure you the feeling is mutual.” She hesitated, a moment of vulnerability flashing in her eyes before she gathered the courage to ask the question that had been gnawing at her for days. “Have you told the Queen about what happened on the Roseroad?”

Gwayne’s playful demeanor shifted, his expression growing more serious. “That depends on how you answer my question,” he replied, his voice low, clearly intending to leverage her curiosity for his own inquiry.

Rhaella’s brow furrowed slightly as she met his gaze. “What is it?” she asked, her tone wary.

“Why were you playing the role of a minstrel?” Gwayne’s voice was steady, but there was a hint of genuine curiosity in his eyes.

“You wouldn’t understand,” she said, though her voice wavered just slightly, betraying the vulnerability she tried so hard to conceal.

Gwayne's eyes narrowed, a hint of challenge flickering in his gaze. “Try me,” he urged, his voice quieter now, as if coaxing a confession out of her.

“There’s little freedom for ladies like myself,” she admitted, her eyes still refusing to meet his. “I wanted to experience life outside of castles and the expectations placed upon me, even if only briefly.”

Gwayne fell silent, his expression softening as he processed her words. For a moment, it was as if the enmity between their houses faded, replaced by a fleeting understanding. But the moment was brief, and Rhaella quickly reminded herself of who he was—a Hightower, sworn to a family that despised hers.

“Have you told the Queen?” Rhaella pressed, her voice firmer now, trying to regain control of the situation.

“I have not, nor do I plan to,” Gwayne replied, his tone equally firm, as if laying down a challenge of his own.

Her eyes snapped to his, searching for any sign of deceit, but found none. “I see. So you’ll keep my secret and use it to your advantage?” There was a touch of bitterness in her words, a preemptive strike against the betrayal she feared was inevitable.

Gwayne’s expression darkened, his brows knitting together in a frown. “Is that how little you think of me?” he asked, his voice tinged with offense, but also something else—disappointment, perhaps.

Rhaella faltered, caught off guard by the emotion in his tone. “Our Houses hold no love for each other,” she replied, her voice defensive, as if she were reminding herself as much as him. Her breathing quickened under the intensity of his gaze, and she felt an unfamiliar heat rising in her cheeks.

“I believe we have indulged ourselves enough with this dance,” she said, trying to pull away, but his grip on her hand remained firm.

The closeness was disconcerting, and she could feel the warmth of his body, the faint scent of leather and sandalwood mixing with the heady atmosphere of the hall. It was intoxicating and unsettling all at once. “You’re mistaken,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath ghosting over her ear. “I do not seek to play games. I uphold the oath that I took when I was knighted.”

The words hung between them, a solemn vow that left her momentarily speechless. The world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them locked in a silent struggle, the air thick with unresolved tension.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the animosity between them seemed to waver, replaced by something far more complicated—an unspoken understanding, perhaps, or the first flickers of a dangerous attraction. The dance continued, but the steps were secondary to the charged interaction between them, as if the entire hall held its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

Rhaella’s heart raced, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts—anger, fear, and an undeniable pull toward the man who should have been her enemy. Was it possible that she could trust him? So far, he had given her no reason not to, but the risk was too great to ignore.

Their faces were inches apart now, their breath mingling as they moved together. The heat of his gaze, the subtle pressure of his hand at her waist—it all combined to form a heady mix that Rhaella found both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Lady Rhaella?” The King’s voice boomed inside the throne room, breaking the spell between them. They quickly took a step back from each other, the tension snapping like a bowstring released. “Will you please grace our guests with your voice?”

“Ser.” She bowed to Gwayne, her voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions churning within her, before she walked toward the King who had called for her to perform. As she moved away, she felt the lingering sensation of Gwayne’s gaze on her back, a reminder that their dance was far from over.

[justdillydally]

In the book, the loyalty of the greens to each other was one of their best traits.

Aegon agreed to become king to protect his family, and demanded the coronation himself, without trying to escape. Helaena was crowned with her husband and had influence over him when she dissuaded him from the dangerous idea of attacking the DS. Aemond wanted his brother's crown, but he never thought of stealing it for himself. Daeron refused to believe in Aegon's death and even threw wine in the face of the man who offered him to take his brother's place on the throne. Alicent never showed pity for her enemies, wanting to bathe in the blood of her grandson's murderer's family, cursing rhay and devaluing the lives of strong bastards, and after Aegon's death, she even tried to kill the newly-made king first with her own hands and then with her granddaughter's hands.

but the show and the rumors around it disappoint me.

Helaena is not crowned and turns away from her husband in front of everyone, although she knows that this is their only chance to protect their children. according to the rumors, Aemond will allow the thought of betraying his brother. Daeron is still missing. and Alicent... there's not even anything to say, everything is too sad no matter how you look at it.

this is not a free interpretation or introduction of semitones. this is just a disrespectful letter out of fear that the green team will surpass the black team in the eyes of the audience. sad. very sad.

[justdillydally]

Be weird. Be random. Be who you are. Because you never know who would love the person you hide.

— C.S. Lewis

[justdillydally]

I haven't tried writing x Reader stories but Gwayne Hightower is really something... Will anyone be interested to read a Gwayne Hightower modern AU?

Opt 1: Gwayne's secretary is leaving him after six years in service, he has to convince her to stay. Opt 2: Reader is Gwayne's business rival. Opt 3: Reader is the PR Manager who has to manage a scandal that involve Gwayne

[justdillydally]

https://twitter.com/isabelunraveled

[justdillydally]

Cristal Palace ~ Madrid

[justdillydally]

[justdillydally]

Instagram credit: the.cozy.bee

[justdillydally]

Instagram credit: sarahwitpeerd

[justdillydally]

I can only imagine what goes to her head 'Targaryen and their queer customs' XD

alicent is the funniest person on hotd and this clip just solidifies it

[justdillydally]

Will You Still Love Me? (Gwayne Hightower x OFC) 2

https://www.tumblr.com/justdillydally/759136953047433216/will-you-still-love-me-gwayne-hightower-x-ofc-1?source=share Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary: The tourney commences. Rhaella was reunited with her cousin and her guise as a minstrel was short lived.

Chapter Rating/Trigger Warning for the chapter:  Teen and up audiences, non-graphic description of violence (they're in a tourney)

Note: I finally had a rough draft on how things will go in the story. It’s a slow burn as I mentioned and it looked like I might need to turn it into a trilogy if people still reads this. The first part (WYSLM) will have around eight or so chapters. I try to be fateful to the canon but I have to tweak up some details to make it work in the fic. Thank you for the kudos and reblogs from the previous chapter. I really appreciate it. Hope you enjoy this one!

@deniixlovezelda @loverslikeghosts

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Sunlight stretched across the field, once barren but now vibrant with a multitude of tents adorned with colorful banners bearing the coats of arms of the competing knights and noble houses. As the dew evaporated from the grass and the morning birds serenaded the new day, the arena buzzed with life. Spectators filled the stands, the clamor of preparations mingling with the excitement in the air.

Rhaella had hurriedly left the Red Keep as soon as she broke her fast, despite Princess Rhaenyra’s insistence that she stay in bed until the babe arrived. Dressed in a full-length gown of bronze and black, with intricate red embroidery, she made her way to the Royce tent. Her eyes danced over the elaborate designs of the Great Houses' tents, a stark contrast to the simpler attire of the smaller houses. The sounds of clanking metal, neighing horses, hushed conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter created a lively backdrop.

Finding the Royce tent was easy; its bronze fabric with black iron studs and the flag proudly displaying their sigil made it unmistakable. She lifted the flap and stepped inside, her gaze quickly taking in the unfamiliar faces. Two men stood by—one older, and the other around her age—while the only familiar face was that of her cousin, fully armored.

“Willam!” She greeted him with a broad smile, noting the similarity in their dark hair and shared features.

“Rhaella.” His voice was warm, and he welcomed her with an embrace. “You’ve grown up so much since I last saw you.”

She stepped back, her eyes assessing the changes in him. “And you’re a knight now. I’m impressed.”

Willam stood tall with a grin. “You should hear the tales of my exploits, cousin.”

She bit her lip, stifling a laugh. “I can only imagine the heroic stories you’ve accumulated.”

“Where is Ser Qarl?” He gestured to a boy, who promptly fetched chairs from the corner.

“I sent him to wait in the arena. He’s doing his duty well as my protector,” she assured him, wary of whom she could trust in King’s Landing, a place teeming with intrigue.

The boy arranged the chairs, and Willam addressed him. “Make sure my steed is ready, Allard.”

The older man bowed and left, while the boy returned to polishing Willam’s helm.

“How is Runestone?” Rhaella inquired as she took a seat opposite her cousin. Leaving home had been hard, but it comforted her to know it was in capable hands.

“Still standing, my lady. Leowyn is managing things efficiently in your absence.”

Relief washed over her, but concern quickly followed. “And Uncle Gerold? I haven’t heard from him in weeks. Is he aiding Leowyn?”

Willam’s expression grew serious. “He’s been occupied with the Hilltribes near the Gates of the Moon. Last I heard, they were driven back near Kingsroad.”

A worried look crossed Rhaella’s face, but she had a smile to cover it. “I’ll return to Runestone after my name day. I’m eager to help in any way I can. I miss the Vale.”

“You’ve missed the Vale, and not your charming cousin?” Willam’s smirk was playful, aimed at lightening the mood.

Rhaella laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Of course, I miss you too, but King’s Landing is so different from home.”

“We all miss your presence at Runestone. We look forward to your return,” he said earnestly.

The blare of trumpets and the roar of the crowd signaled the start of the tourney. Their conversation halted as they both stood.

Looking up at Willam, Rhaella placed a hand on his shoulder, her eyes brimming with pride. “I bid you good fortune in the tourney, Ser Willam.”

“Thank you, my Lady.” Willam bowed gracefully.

With a playful smirk, Rhaella added, “Show them what a Royce is made of.”

“I shall do my best not to disappoint,” he replied with a grin.

As Rhaella prepared to leave the tent, she froze. Her heart raced as she caught sight of Ser Gwayne Hightower on his steed, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. Instinctively, she ducked back inside the tent, her hand clutching her chest.

Willam’s concerned voice broke her reverie. “Lady Rhaella, is everything alright?”

Turning sharply, she met his worried gaze. Hesitation marked her tone. “It’s—it’s that Hightower knight.”

Willam’s eyes widened slightly as he opened the tent’s flap to scan the field. “Ser Gwayne Hightower? Are you hiding from him?” He closed the flap and returned to her.

Her fingers fidgeted, and she avoided his eyes. “He might have a reason to suspect that I’m a minstrel.”

Willam’s lips twitched in amusement. “Pray tell, dear cousin?”

Rhaella hesitated, her mouth opening and closing as she searched for the right words. Finally, she sighed. “Long story short, I needed money.”

Willam’s snort was barely restrained. “You needed money? And you chose to become a traveling bard?”

“I was training near the Roseroad. Ser Qarl and I needed to eat but had little coin.” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she reasoned to him.

Willam’s amusement faded. “Just the two of you in the woods?”

Rhaella straightened, her voice defensive. “In King’s Landing, they don’t train ladies in combat. I use riding as an excuse, and Ser Qarl helps me practice.”

Willam’s tone grew serious. “It’s dangerous, Rhaella. People might start whispering about you and your sworn sword.”

She met his gaze firmly. “We’re not far from King’s Landing, and Ser Qarl is loyal. He’d never act dishonorably. You know that.”

Willam shook his head, sighing. “I’m not questioning either of you, but you’re the heir to Runestone. You need to be cautious.”

Rhaella’s expression softened with understanding. “If I’m to defend and rule Runestone, I need more than just words and courtesy. I’ll be careful, cousin.” She nodded in agreement.

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The stands buzzed with excitement as lords, ladies, and smallfolk alike filled the seats, eager to cheer for their champions. The vibrant colors of the banners fluttered in the breeze, and the noise of anticipation mingled with the occasional burst of laughter. Rhaella, having missed the early matches, finally made her way to the royal box.

King Viserys and Queen Alicent turned to her as she approached. “Where have you been? You nearly missed House Royce’s turn,” the King inquired, a hint of reproach in his voice.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” Rhaella replied softly as she took her seat beside Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys. “Princess, My Lord” she greeted them with a nod before turning her attention to the arena. The royal box was filled with the royal family, save for the toddlers and Princess Rhaenyra, who was resting as advised by the Maesters. Behind them, the small council lords occupied their seats.

A flutter of anxiety gripped her. What if Ser Gwayne doesn’t recognize me at all? After all, I’m not in my usual attire, and my hair is styled differently. The gods must be merciful if that’s the case.

Down in the arena, Ser Willam Royce charged against a knight from House Bettley. With a resounding clash, Willam’s lance struck his opponent’s helmet, though the opposing knight managed a hit on Willam’s shoulder. Despite the blow, Willam remained steadfast on his stallion, while his competitor was thrown to the ground. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Rhaella clapped with enthusiasm. Willam was announced the victor, and the arena cleared for the next match.

Her heart skipped a beat when the announcer declared the next bout would be between Ser Gwayne Hightower and Ser Erren Appleton. Rhaella held her breath, hoping for a distraction or change of fate.

Before the match began, Ser Gwayne Hightower guided his steed toward the royal box, his visor raised and a grin playing on his lips. “For the Lady Rhaella Targaryen,” he called out, his voice carrying across the arena. “Her beauty is an inspiration to minstrels. May I have this favor?” He raised his lance, the sun glinting off its metal.

Rhaella felt the eyes of everyone in the box, especially the Queen, on her. “Ser Gwayne,” she said, her voice steady as she accepted the ribbon and flower. Despite her irritation, she managed a polite smile as she fastened the favor to his lance.

Their gazes locked, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them. The cheers of the crowd and the scrutiny of the royal box faded into the background. Her pulse quickened, but she forced herself to remain composed, even as her lips tightened into a thin line.

As Ser Gwayne resumed his position and lowered his visor, the match commenced. Rhaella watched intently, her eyes tracking his every move. Despite her disdain for the Hightower, she couldn’t deny his skill. His strikes were precise, unhorsing his opponents with apparent ease. Each victory was followed by a growing sense of frustration and begrudging admiration from her something she won’t admit openly.

When the matches paused for an intermission, Rhaella headed toward the edge of the tourney grounds, planning to catch up with her cousin. But fate had other plans. Ser Gwayne appeared, his stride confident and his eyes twinkling with amusement. He approached her with a smirk.

“Lady Targaryen,” he greeted, bowing slightly, though his tone was more teasing than respectful. “I should thank you. Your favor seems to have brought me good fortune.”

Rhaella raised an eyebrow, her voice without warmth “Perhaps you should. I’m sure it was entirely my favor that kept you from falling off your horse.”

Gwayne chuckled, nodding. “It’s possible my skill had something to do with it,” he said, “but your favor certainly didn’t hurt. I must admit, you’ve surprised me, Lady Targaryen. I hadn’t expected a minstrel to secure a place at the royal box.”

“And you were too eager to believe that’s all I am,” Rhaella retorted, her shoulders lifting in a nonchalant shrug.

Leaning in slightly, his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’re not as discreet as you think, my lady. A lady hiding behind a minstrel’s guise?” He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval.

Rhaella stiffened, her discomfort barely concealed. She forced a polite smile, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Is it praise you seek, Ser Gwayne? Surely winning a few matches should be sufficient.”

Gwayne’s smile widened, his gaze lingering on her. “Victory is sweeter when noticed by those who appreciate it. You were watching closely, weren’t you?”

A flicker of annoyance crossed her face. Her lips curled into a smile yet her eyes were set ablazed, it reminded Ser Gwayne of Rhaella’s father. “I was watching the tourney, Ser Gwayne, just as everyone else was. You simply happened to be part of it.”

“And yet, you seem to be quite invested in my performance. Perhaps you enjoy the thrill of seeing me unhorse my opponents or is there something more?” Gwayne replied smoothly.

Her nose crinkled in the accusation. “I watch the tourney to appreciate the fine display of skill by knights. Your victories are impressive, but hardly a matter of personal concern to me.”

“You agree, it is impressive?” Gwayne’s grin widened, finding satisfaction with the reaction he was stirring within her. “And yet, you seem to be quite engrossed. It’s as if you are here to support me and not your own House.”

Rhaella never saw a reason to detest the Hightowers until Gwayne. The Queen has been dutiful to the King and despite her aloofness, she was kind to her and let her play with her children.  “Your confidence in yourself is admirable, Ser. You have more rounds to win, after all. It would be a shame if you were to lose.”

“I will certainly do well with the favor you bestow upon me,” he replied. The silence stretched between them as he gave her a slight bow. “Until the next round, then, Lady Targaryen.”

“Ser Gwayne.” She curtsied, her eyes following him as he walked away. Enjoy your victory until you can.

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Back in the royal box, Queen Alicent sat beside King Viserys who was busy conversing with Lord Corlys and the other Lords in the small council. The discussion of their favorite knights from the tourney was the main subject of their chattering.

Queen Alicent caught sight of her brother, and the unmistakable Heir of Runestone. Worry etched on her face, trying to decipher what the two could be talking about. Her fingers tapped the chair, watching Gwayne smiled at Rhaella. How did Gwayne know her? She has not been in Court when he last visited the Capitol, and she was with Gwayne since he arrived yesterday.

[justdillydally]