#ser rambles

[soft-melody94]

[sugutoad]

No matter how hard the writers try to make me hate them, they could never make me 😌

[charlottesbookclub]

ser gwayne hightower fluff alphabet 💚💚

Summary: just what it says on the tin: fluff alphabet for my boy gwayne (do people still do these anymore? idc I'm doing it bc I love reading them and I thought I'd try writing one myself 😌😌)

Warnings/Tags: gn!reader; spouse!reader; established relationship (marriage); we are all going to have fluff-induced cavities after this, I fear (it's more absolute tooth-rotting fluff, y'all!); let me know if I've missed anything! ☺️

Words: 2985

Author’s Note: I'm meeting with my phd advisor today which is going to be totally fine (she is so super sweet) but my brain decided we were going to have major anxiety about it, and what better way to distract myself than by writing fluff for gwayne!! 🥰💚 I've never done one of these before, but I always enjoyed reading them, so I thought I'd try it myself! ☺️ I like that it lets me explore his character without having the pressure of a plot lol

as always, I hope y'all enjoy and feel free to let me know your thoughts!! ☺️💕

template by: magical-warlock

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Honestly anything. I feel like if it was something you enjoyed, Gwayne would find himself enjoying it too, just because you were happy. But I think like he would really like going on leisurely walks or horse rides together. It’s an activity that allows you to talk and get to know one another, but where you can also explore the beauty of a garden or forest together. I could totally see him bringing a book along and reading it aloud to you under a tree.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Everything lmao. But your eyes stand out to him, especially when he can read all the things you don’t say out loud in them. I feel like he would also appreciate intellect, common sense, and wit. He is clearly sooooo done with Criston’s weird dumb bullshit, and I think someone who was rational and level-headed but not afraid to crack a joke or two (especially at Criston’s expense lmaooooo) would be really appealing to him.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

My mans would not be much help at first because he’s freaking out too. He wouldn’t want to see you in any kind of distress, especially if he’s not sure where it came from or what’s causing it. I think if it happened more than once and you talked about it and expressed what you needed, he would be more than willing to do whatever you needed from him. My sense is that his first reaction (after the initial freak out) would just be to hold you really tightly and whisper reassurances to you until you were feeling better.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Given the society that Gwayne lives in, his expectations have kind of been set for him in the sense that his future is pretty much expected to involve marriage and children. And honestly, I get the sense that this isn’t something he’s necessarily opposed to. Especially since he found you and realizes he gets to marry someone he actually loves, he’d be pretty thrilled about the whole prospect. It just doesn’t seem like life on miliary campaign is something he’s super jazzed about, so his ideal future would likely be just settling down with you in Oldtown. 

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

I think it’s pretty mixed, especially depending on the context. Again, given the societal expectations placed on him, I do think he might tend to be a little more dominant (especially if he thinks/knows that he’s right about something) but I also don’t think he would ever force you to do something you didn’t want to. He’d also back off on just about any subject if he noticed you were getting upset about it. I also think it really depends on your temperament, since I think he could really go either way depending on what energy you brought to the relationship.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

It would be really hard for him to stay mad at you (and vice versa). Unless it was something truly awful, I just don’t think he could stay upset with you for very long. As we’ve already established, he’s a pretty rational person who seems to value clear communication, so I think “fights” with him would be more like difficult discussions about hard issues rather than an actual fight. This is really nice because then you both get to speak your mind and actually come out with a better understanding of the other person and a stronger relationship because of it.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

I do tend to think that he’s a pretty grateful person, but I think he’s better at showing it than saying it sometimes. Not that he can’t verbalize his gratitude – he totally can – I just think that gestures come more naturally to him (like winning a tourney in your honor, buying you something extravagant, taking you on a nice trip, etc.)

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Yes and no. If there was something he knew that would put you in danger if you knew it, he would not tell you. He would never forgive himself if something happened as a result. Pretty much anything else though, he’ll tell you. He won’t always offer everything, but I think he would have a hard time lying to you or keeping things from you if you asked about them. Depending on what it was, he might tell you a sanitized version of the story because he doesn’t want you to worry, but he’d be as honest as he felt he could be in the moment.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helping them overcome personal problems?

I think in any good relationship (romantic, platonic, or otherwise) people change each other for the better. Gwayne is no exception to this, and I think it’s likely that he picks up habits from you (just as you do from him). I can definitely see that if he had you as a confidante to rant about Criston or just to express his worries and doubts about politics, his family, etc. that he might be a little less overtly antagonistic and instead might just smile and nod a little more but internally be like “wait til my s/o hears about this fucking bullshit.” He’d definitely still give Critston attitude tho

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Yes and no. Gwayne is a fairly confident person, and I think he feels pretty comfortable with himself and with his relationship with you for the most part. However, I don’t think he’s immune to jealously, especially if it were to seem like another person was paying you a bit too much attention. In that scenario, I’m sure he’d have some quip at that person’s expense and whisk you away or be very obvious about using your title as his spouse. The one thing that might make him feel truly insecure is if it seemed like you were becoming interested in someone else. But let’s be real, if you get to marry Ser Gwayne Hightower, that’s not fucking happening 

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Oh, he’s definitely a good kisser. I don’t think he was one to have a lot of trysts prior to meeting you (despite his bravado, I think he really values an emotional or intellectual connection to the person he’s with, meaning I don’t think many of the flings he might have had made it all the way to the hook-up stage). But he’s a handsome man who likely had a lot of admirers, and I do think he got a bit of practice with kissing in his youth. He’s absolutely very attentive to what you like, so I think he’s only gotten to be an even better kisser over the course of your relationship. In terms of your first kiss with him, these lyrics from “All My Love” by Noah Kahan are very applicable here: “I leaned in for a kiss thirty feet from where your parents slept / and I looked so confident, babe / I swear, I was scared to death.” Especially early on, I think he really wanted to project this confident and suave vibe that he totally knew what he was doing, but as soon as he realized he was in love with you, he was actually a nervous wreck and desperately did not want to mess it up. 

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

re: Gwayne’s penchant for gestures, I have a feeling he had a whole well-written speech planned out (he based it on the dramatic love confessions he read in old ballads). However, despite all his preparation, I think the confession actually ended up just slipping out one time when you were together and he couldn’t keep it in any longer. He probably stumbled over his words and was very embarrassed about it and his face turned bright pink, but it was so adorable and endearing that you actually preferred it to whatever speech he might have had planned.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the wedding be like?

As I mentioned above, I think that marriage is pretty much a given for Gwayne considering the realities of the culture in which he lives. He also probably didn’t propose in the traditional sense, since the marriage was likely arranged, but I can absolutely envision him proposing to you privately after the betrothal has been officially announced and after he’s spent enough time with you to realize that he is genuinely in love with you. It would be sort of a love confession/proposal where he basically says “I know you were chosen by others to be my spouse, but I also personally choose you because I love you.” The wedding would be fairly large and befitting of his rank and station, and it’s likely that neither of you would have much choice in how it was conducted. Gwayne definitely likes the idea of a large and fairly public wedding because it’s a way for him to show his pride for both his house and his betrothed.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Very sweet things! Mostly “my dear,” “my love,” and “dearheart,” with a sprinkle of “my darling” mixed in on occasion.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious to others? How do they express their feelings?

He gets very love-struck, especially when he’s with you. Spending time with you is like spending time in another world for him, and I do think he becomes a little more uninhibited when he’s around you. If people watch the two of you together, his lovesickness is pretty obvious to anyone who knows him. Even if they speak to just him, they might notice slight changes, like the fact that he talks about you a lot and always finds a way to bring you into the conversation. He’s careful though, and would never reveal the depths of his affection for you to someone who might you it against him or hurt you to get back at him. In terms of expressing feelings, as I mentioned above, I get the sense that he’s one for gestures that demonstrate his feelings. He gets nervous and stumbles over his words more than usual when he tries to verbalize things to you, and that’s an unusual and uncomfortable experience for him at first. The longer you’re together though, the better he gets at it.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag about their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Because your betrothal and marriage are pretty much public knowledge, Gwayne definitely feels comfortable being upfront about the relationship. And oh he totally brags. He’s very proud to call you his spouse and is not afraid to make sure everyone knows about it. Based on societal and cultural expectations, I don’t think there would be a lot of open PDA (like hugs, kisses on the lips, etc.). But hand kisses?????????? All the fucking time babeyyyyyyy!!!!!!!! So many kisses on the knuckles wherever and whenever – it’s his favorite little gesture of affection

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Mans is a killer shit talker. We know this. He can and will throw shade with the best of them. He wants to know all the drama in your friend circle and will happily judge everyone with you for hours. That one “friend” of yours who turned out to be wildly toxic and conniving? Well he never liked them anyway and he’s got a bulletpointed list of reasons why. You start a conversation with “can I be mean for a moment?” or “you know I love this person, but…” and he is SAT. He’s always on your side and ready to talk absolute shit about anyone who caused you even a minor inconvenience. 

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

At the end of the day, he’s something of a hopeless romantic and would do whatever he could to make you happy. There are a lot of times when the cultural and societal realities of the world he lives in prevent him from doing everything he might want, but if it came down to it, he would do almost anything for you. A lot of his romantic gestures are a little cliché, but in the best, most endearing way possible. As he gets to know you though, and as your relationship matures, he’ll probably get a little more creative and do things that are more specific to the two of you.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Believes in you and supports you 100000% no question. Again though, I think this impulse can be a bit hampered by the social structures in which he lives. He’ll do whatever he can to help you achieve your goals, but there are limits based on birth, status, etc. that you are both cognizant of and which might influence what those goals look like and how far either of you would go to achieve them.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

We’re talking about Ser “I’d rather stay at a comfy inn than camp out” Gwayne Hightower here – I think he appreciates a level of routine and comfort. There’s so much in his world that is chaotic and out of his control that I think he would really relish having that consistency and stability in his relationship. Not that he would never try anything new – especially if you asked him to – I just think his natural inclination would be to have a comforting routine that works for both of you.

U nderstanding - How well do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Considering he picked up on Alicent and Criston’s weird vibes in like 5 seconds, I’d say he’s pretty good at reading people. He definitely makes an effort to get to know you, and can confidently say that he knows you very well at this point. Especially since you’re someone he cares about and spends a lot of time with, he’s quite good at reading your moods and guessing how you’re feeling.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is its worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Very important. Again though, there are cultural expectations placed on both of you that may necessitate you and Gwayne placing your relationship further down your list of priorities than you normally would choose to. If it were completely up to him though, his relationship with you would be right up there at the top with his loyalty to his house and his family.

W ild Card - A random fluff headcanon

I talked about this much more extensively in this fic, but the necklace you gave him? He. Does. Not. Take. It. Off. EVER. It’s his little piece of you that he gets to carry everywhere, and he could never ever bear to part with it.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

In private, abso-fucking-lutely! As I mentioned in the PDA section, he’s more retrained in public, but still likes to demonstrate his affection for you via hand kisses. In private though, he loves to cuddle. And honestly, he doesn’t really care where or in what position – curled up in bed, sprawled on a couch, his head in your lap, you tucked against his chest – he just likes to be touching you and knowing that you’re right there next to him, that you’re safe, and that you love him.

Y earning - How do they cope when they’re missing their partner?

It’s a reality he has to face more than he would like, given the exterior expectations placed on him. If he had his way, he would live quietly with you at his family’s property near Oldtown forever. When he has to leave though, he always asks for your favor to take with him, regardless of how long you’ve been together or how many times you’ve bestowed it. As mentioned above, he also always wears the necklace you gave him. Definitely a top tier professional yearner though – he misses you and thinks of you the whole time he’s gone.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

This answer will be pretty similar to the answer for “V” – yes he is, but he also has to be cognizant of outside pressures that might cause him to act in ways that don’t always align with his personal inclinations. He would both die and kill for you though, not that you’re asking him to do either. In fact, you’re usually telling him not to do either of those things.

[kaytayto]

very late estimeric week contribution, but i had too much fun drawing hair. this was for reunion? i think? the vibe is them pining for each other and then finally confessing post EW. i need this in my life constantly thanks

[banefort]

Not to sound like a broken record talking about nomadic v settled lifestyles in HOTD, but an interesting dynamic that has come of the Daemon-Harrenhal sideplot is between him, the castle, and Alys and Ser Simon Strong, is what they represent as manifestations of the Neolithic agrarian revolution.

Daemon’s time at Harrenhal is spent oscillating between the two factions. Simon represents the foundations of a settled society. He dictates Daemon’s waking hours and daily schedule (against his will), keeps him tied to his political duties, and goes so far as to impel Daemon to guarantee the longevity of Harrenhal by commencing its reconstruction - affirming a settled and regulated lifestyle.

On the flip side Alys represents nomadic life, occupying the halls of the castle much like a ‘ghost’, only affecting circumstance through cerebral happenstances, whilst also showing a marked affection for the natural world and ancient natural structures (Wierwoods), and repeatedly identifies with the natural world via totemism (calling herself a barn owl). She is the history of Westeros and the First Men made manifest, and personifies a nomadic lifestyle which has been lost to to the regions south of the Wall.

By having Daemon constantly tossed between Ser Simon and Alys - settled and nomadic, polytheism versus paganism, agriculture versus shepherding, he occupies a liminal space and is caught between the refractions of history, and through his tumultuous residence, is implicitly drawn to question the true strength of monarchy, settled lifestyles, and all forms of contemporary power structures; for Alys, and her associated phantasmagorical neolithic ways, are clearly established to have had a far more substantial and cerebral impact on Daemon’s psyche than Ser Simon, who, while Daemon does entertain, he visibly holds no regard for, as opposed to Alys, who he is both wary and keen for. This is substantiated by his being shown to feel conflict and guilt over his perpetuation of Targaryen ethnocentric incest, his failure to fulfill his duties to his faction (be it the Blacks or his children/wife), amongst others, following his arrival at Harrenhal, suggesting that through her presence as an all-encompassing totem of nomadic conducts, his deep-rooted pride in Targaryen legacy, “the establishment” and all things modern, rapidly unwind. The paths of his - and all other citizens’, ancestors calls to him from an intangible, psychosomatic place. His contemporary comforts are all but stripped bare in some primal, unbidden rush to follow in their footsteps.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Out of curiosity, whats yer thoughts on catnap? And of dogdays friendship with him?

You have given me a chance to yap ✨

(Spoilers ahead for those not caught up with Poppy Playtime.)

Personally to go off from what I understand of Catnap, he’s more tragic to me than anything. Bro got killed and transformed, infused to what his official appearance is now.

He used to be Theodore, as you probably would know. Just imagine going through all that, just to die all over again.

Catnap is fully and willingly offered himself up to the Prototype—I think. Imagine being killed by the only person who saved you, who you thought you can trust.

Though all things considered, he’s hellishly smart, but I’m surprised he didn’t kill us in-game on the spot. He had every right to do so, instead he let us run around.

Why is that?

I mean of course he still was hunting us, toying with us for sport—but he didn’t kill us immediately. That speaks a lot on his confidence in keeping Player in line.

Rightfully so, Catnap was doomed from the start. Like nearly every other toy in Playtime Co.

…

Idk if that made any sense.

Now to elaborate on your other question, DogDay and Catnap appeared to be very good friends. Even from when Chapter 3 was still being teased, though it seemed from the start Catnap instigated a lot of things.

Even going so as far as to sever DogDay’s legs as seen in the game. From that scene alone it seemed Catnap wanted DogDay to change his mind, be on Catnap’s side and work with The Prototype.

He’s so complex I love it.

[peachysunrize]

Gwayne: Because it’s fucking madness

Me: you’re sooooo right and sooooo hot

[ricardian-werewolf]

Take Me to War - Chapter II: Humbly beg the death upon my knee

Part I

Summary:

Cecily-Anne awakes in Ser Gwayne's tent and must come to terms with where she is in this new world. It is within it that she will come to form a new friendship and realize the depths of her grief.

TWs: Suicidial idealization, grief, child death, incest mention, abelism, mention of rape (though not committed)

Tag list: @lordbettany @fauxraven @rmelster

Cecily awoke to the clanking of chains. 

Chains, which by all accounts snaked around her wrists. Jangling them did nothing except force her to realise how tightly she was bound. In short, she was not a noblewoman kept here for her safety, but a prisoner. The thought and realisation filled her with fear. As a highborn woman, she was protected by a social code of purity - had she come through that cut wearing a serving woman’s gown, the horrors would be inconceivable. But seemingly on part of her fine dress of black velvets and wolf fur, she had been spared such horrors - for now. Raising her head, Cecily found her snood that held her hair back to have been torn off. Her braided coiffure tumbled down her shoulders. She had been tied to some sort of central tentpost and rested upon a woven rug bearing the image of a tower with green flames bursting from its roof.

Studying it, Cecily felt confusion rise in her. Not once at any point had she seen someone’s family heraldry bear such a symbol. As an avid studier of heraldry herself (Her own being the white stag of Richard II on an emerald green backing with ivy leaves at its feet). Lifting her head, she could hear the sounds of men carousing and making merry. Evidently the battle must have gone in their favour, perhaps?

As Cecily looked about once more, she noted the candles flickering in their sconces, settles upon which furs and rugs had been thrown to make a more comfortable space. A mirror and washbasin with a finely carved jug sat nearby. The mirror was a cut of fine glass backed (she assumed) in silver, and bore gold detailing. Whomever’s tent she was in was certainly wealthy. As she shuffled in a circle around the pole, Cecily noted the bed and its posters laid with yet more imagery of the same tower below her feet. She could only guess at the kind of fabric the bed-curtains were, though she assumed either satin or velvet. Cocking her head to one side once more, she heard the sound of two men arguing in what sounded like English, though it was certainly more heavily accented. A Northern twinge to it. Hope stirred in her chest, which she frantically squashed. No good Yorkshireman would ever have the daughter of the Lord of the North tied up like some common ne'er do-well. The tent flaps (made of stiffened oilcloth dyed deep green and edged in silver with goldwork thread made out to be tiny flames) parted and two men stepped in. One was more weary than the other, with dark hair and eyes. He carried a bottle of wine or spirits, which he uncorked and took a generous swig of. The other man spoke little, and as his shadow of a valet stepped into the room followed by squires of the body, Cecily watched. 

“What do we do with her, then, Ser Hightower?” The man hissed as he drank. The other - Ser Hightower, shrugged. Cecily froze as his eyes flitted to her, and she noted his age. Young, he was. Perhaps about ten-and-seven if not a year older. A knight, then? Of which order? She saw no familiar garter-belt about him or mantle-chain of office. He certainly wore spurs, yet not of gold but of burnished silver. Across his front of his chestplate was that same tower, and the name stuck.

Hightower. His name was of a noble family. Unlike Cecily-Anne who held no legal last name, she could say she was of House Plantagenet. Through both sets of her family, thanks to her parents being first cousins and ensuring a papal dispensation was needed to wed. Shaking her head silently, Cecily turned back to half-watching as the body-squires and barbers tended to this Ser Hightower.

Was he a poor knight then? No, his tent could not have been so lavishly furnished as such. Perhaps he was someone who preferred his material comforts over his godly ones. She wondered if he prayed as much as he ought to. What surprised her was no signs of crucifixes or depiction of the mother Mary or Holy Host. In fact, no priest had come to take Compline with the men or offer the Host in mass. Perhaps it was not yet Sunday. She did note however seven small figures in an alcove of the tent over which a glass image hung of a star with seven points.

“Have you no priest?” She spoke at last, coughing it out. Both men wheeled to look at her.

“W-what?” The first man asked. Cecily ignored him, holding Ser Hightower’s gaze.

“No, no Septons have been on this expedition, My lady.” 

Well at least he is not calling me a wench. Delightful. I wonder how this other man is faring, seeing as he is deep enough in his cups to call about a guard. 

“Septons?” She replied. “Of what order of clergy is a ‘Septon?’ “ Cocking her head again, Cecily sniffed. “One of the friars?”

“Nay, My lady.” Ser Hightower spoke again. “They are of our priestly order and raise poor boys to follow the faith.”

“So they do be priests.” She raised a brow. “Have you nuns?”

“Septas.” The other man coughed. “My lady.” He added after a long, cold pause. Cecily hungered to ignore such a slight, and settled herself back against the pole. “Tell me your conditions of capture, please.” She raised her head to glare at both men. 

“C-conditions of capture?” The other man murmured.

“We have no reason to view you as a prisoner, M’lady.” Ser Hightower spoke. “These ropes were to keep you from getting up and further injuring yourself.” He signalled to a squire who slashed through the ropes holding Cecily in place, and stepped back. Cecily rose to her feet unsteadily and gripped the tent-pole for support. Somehow, this did not feel right to her eyes and ears. Women such as herself in positions of little to no power when left with monstrous men, were often raped openly and if not that, brutally wounded, sold into slavery or worse evils. While she was Highborn as she had reminisced on earlier, her household did not exist in this place. She could not simply claim to be of some family either, seeing as she knew none of them.

“Leave us, Ser Cole. I have reason to speak to the lady alone.” Ser Hightower spoke to the other knight, who nodded. As he passed her, he turned his head and spat at her feet. Cecily’s hands balled into fists and she nearly moved to punch him. However, barely it seemed, she stayed her hand. 

As soon as Cole was gone - Cecily would have to watch her back - she found herself faced with Ser Hightower. The knight took a seat upon a settle piled high with furs and leaned one of his elbows on his portable writing desk. His emerald green eyes stared at her, and Cecily sat herself on a cushioned pouffe. Glancing down, she found her skirts to be torn and the velvet edging frayed.

“Once we reach King’s landing, I shall have my steward fetch you new clothes. There is a place near the port that sells very fine fabrics.” Hightower turned to his letter and Cecily shifted forward. She did not watch him per-se, but she was curious to see the writings of his hand in this foreign place. It seemed as though the people spoke English, but there was an accent to it that she had noted earlier.

“Oh..” She paused. “Thank you.” She inclined her head. Where was he going with this? She was only ten-and-five, he was ten-and-seven years. A proclamation of marriage had not been offered, at least not yet. Knights of noble households did not take strange women into their care. Perhaps he meant to replace her wardrobe before having her packed off to… a nunnery? She shuddered at the thought. Although there was none of her family left, she hoped to God that her grandmother would at least be going a little mad on her behalf.

The idea of Gran-mére Cecily tearing apart that nunnery for her brought Cecily-Anne the first relief she’d felt in days. She half expected the old woman to come charging through the tear she had stumbled through and rescue her. 

Sadly, that would not be the case. As soon as the letter had been dispatched to a place known as Oldtown, Cecily was re-shackled (for her safety according to Ser Hightower) and “gently” escorted from the tent by him to a waiting carriage on four wheels that looked nothing like any litter Cecily had ever sat in. Long, grand and consisting of no windows - which made her wonder what the blasted thing was like in summer - Cecily was put inside at once, her chains unshackled and dumped onto a soft bed of satin in that same deep green as everything else. The wood inside was dark oak with pearl inlay and heavy curtains were kept apart by splendid cords of gold.

Seated across from her was a woman, with white-blonde eyebrows and arresting violet eyes. Drenched in the same green as the curtains and bedspread, she almost seemed to disappear into the fabric. The door opened again and Ser Hightower stuck his head in. 

“Apologies, Your Grace. This is the lady I wrote to you of. Her name is…”

Cecily swore under her breath. The bastard had not asked her name!

“Cecily-Anne, Duchess of Gloucester.” Cecily rubbed her hands together. And princess royal, lady of Middleham, etc. She added silently to herself. 

“Lady Cecily-Anne.” The woman spoke, inclining her head. She had a nervous air to her, but one not unfriendly or unkind. Cecily noted her hair tucked into a heart-shaped hennin adorned with a crown of gold and emerald stones. 

“I am Queen Helaena Targaryen. Ser Gwayne; my uncle, has elected you to be my lady in waiting…. As my family believes I am no longer able to care for myself and require more proper… feminine company.” 

Her slow way of speech would have concluded to Cecily that this woman was slow or stupid, had she not been much the same. Cecily gave a gentle smile in return and inclined her head. 

“I thank you for this acceptance, your Grace.”

Reaching across the expanse of space, Helaena squeezed Cecily’s hands tight in her own and gave the other woman a beaming smile. “You are the first light of life I have felt since my son was killed. Please, call me any name you so wish.” Helaena giggled, the grief in her eyes fading a little with each passing moment. 

At that second, the wheels of the litter jerked into motion and they were off. From the patterned lattice screens surrounding the litter - or wheelhouse as Cecily learned it was called - she began to see Westeros in all of its late summer glory. Gwayne and his retinue of knights accompanied the carriage on its slow procession from the battle of Rook's Rest back towards the capital. To pass the time, Cecily found herself falling into the role of ladies maid as Véronique de Crécy had been to her mother, with ease. Helaena was an easy soul to charm and adored nothing more than kindness and attention. Her fascination with bugs and propensity to say the most hilarious things off the cuff had Cecily relaxed within moments. Cecily delighted in showing off her new gowns that were going to be sent, and listening to Helaena speak all about her children and her dragon, Dreamfyre.

“Do Targareyens really place a dragon egg in the cradle of their babies?” Cecily breathed as she and Helaena sampled a picnic lunch packed by one of the cooks. She simply couldn’t believe that dragons existed, and that the lady she was now serving had one as her steed!

“Indeed.” Helaena replied with shocked cheerfulness. “Do you not have dragons where you are from?”

“Nay, they’re just stories.” Cecily answered as she bit into a hard-boiled egg smeared with summer mustard. She examined the grapes on her platter, dark purple ones with a seductively sweet bite when chewed. “Are these not for wine?” She examined them in turn.

“Yes, but they’re my favourites. Aegon says I have a confuddled taste and concedes it is due to something happening before I was born.”

“And Aegon is…?” Cecily paused in sipping her wine.

“My brother.” Helaena responded as she smeared more preserves onto her bread slice. “And my husband.” She added as Cecily bit into her selection of preserved salted pork. Cecily coughed, half bent over as she struggled to process the words she was hearing. 

“By the saints!” She breathed. “I-is that not violation of some rule of incest your…” She paused. “My parents were first cousins, but the idea of my father marrying my aunt…” She shook her head. “How does your church not think it sinful?”

“The Seven turned a blind eye to it.” Helaena explained. “It is… strange. He is my brother and I have born him three children and lost one. Yet, I know naught else. My mother who you shall meet as soon as we reach the Red Keep married the king. Her father was the king’s right hand and she was only ten and five at the youngest!” She bit down on a pickle as she spoke and winced at the sour taste. “Eugh. Aegon says these are good for my health. I detest them.”

“May I?” Cecily asked, holding out her hand. The jar of pickles was passed to her and in reciprocity, Cecily handed Helaena the stewed plums. She hated plums with a passion and gobbled up the pickles. All of this was washed down with sweet wine sweetened with strawberry syrup. For afters were sugared violets and little balls of fried dough filled with flavoured preserves. 

It seemed like no time at all before they were back on the road and rolling over more of the dirt-packed and stone-riddled expanse of Westeros. “What reason is there for such large carriages?” Cecily asked as she watched the candle-lamp swing from side to side. A darkening sky heralded a storm with the crack of lightning. The sight of it flashing across the heavens reminded Cecily of an earlier time, another place where she had sat in her bedroom window up in the western tower of Middleham Castle. Rubbing against her arm then had been Ned, her dark haired, freckled twin. He had clutched her hand tight in his and the two of them had held their breaths. 

Their father had said that if one counted the time between the flash and bang of thunder, they could determine the location and direction of a storm. Then, there had been the waiting period and the yelps of joy both of them had let out when the proverbial bang did come. The flash of lighting across the night sky that one summer where Ned hadn’t been as sickly had made his dark eyes turn milk-white. It was as if the stars they had loved to create constellations of their own had taken her brother’s soul for a single, shining moment. 

Then those stars had faded, gone out like candles in the night. He was up there now, dancing amongst those beautiful, alien lights. Him and Maman and Papa. And Cecily was down here, stuck somewhere between Heaven and Hell. She pressed her hands to her forehead and began to weep. 

“Oh..” Helaena breathed. She had settled down for the night with her pet snake, which she now replaced in its basket and crept over to Cecily. “What is it? Did the lightning frighten you?” She asked, her voice so maternal and soft that Cecily only wept harder. Fetching a blanket from the bed, Helaena drew the material around Cecily’s shoulders and pulled it tight, then leaned against her.

“I noticed you do not like to be touched. Neither do I. I think this should help.” She explained. Cecily sniffled, and reached her hand hesitantly towards Helaena, who after a moment, gave it a bone-crushing squeeze. “My mother, father and twin brother are all dead.” She confessed in a whisper. “I was reminded of them with the lightning storm.” She hiccuped. “My father died only ‘ere this morn, and my mother went this past April. My brother went in the winter. He was only ten.” 

“You said you are ten-and-five, yes?” 

“Yes.” Cecily coughed. 

“I am truly sorry for your loss, sweet girl. W-when women like us know loss such as this at such young ages, it can be difficult to bear. My son Maelor was murdered in his cradle by assassins. I was forced to choose between him and his older brother.” She squeezed Cecily’s hand again. “I wonder often if the Seven do wish to test my faith and my love for my children with such horrors. I have wondered also why I do not go mad. You must be too.” She looked into Cecily’s eyes and the other woman recoiled in understanding.

“Y-yes.” Indeed, Cecily did wonder why she had not gone mad. Some days it felt like a good, merciful thing to do. Allowing herself to go mad would have meant her father could put her away somewhere. It would allow her a quiet death at her hands or the ones of her guard. Yet the church said to take one’s own life was sin. Did God not look upon her and Helaena and understand their pains? Was this just one test in many they were set to face?

Another flash of lightning, another boom of thunder. The door to the wheel-house opened and Gwayne poked his head in. In the low candlelight with the two women wrapped in blankets, he swore they looked like witches come to cast some spell upon him and this country.

“Your Grace.” He inclined his head. “My lady. We will be stopping for the night on account of the weather. The wheelhouse will keep you dry.” He nodded at Cecily. “If you need anything, please use the bell cord and I shall have a maid sent.”

“How big is this carriage?” Cecily asked after Gwayne had left. Helaena had turned to lighting the candles, which cast a warm golden glow over the room, and turned to face her. “It is large enough to carry us, a retinue of servants, luggage, a garde-robe and kitchens. In short, it is a moving palace.”

“Remarkable.” Cecily was amazed. “Where I hail from our wheel-houses are able to only carry perhaps one noble lady and her children. It is closed by wooden slats and drawn by horses.”

“Draft-horses?”

“Nay, we use others. At least I believe so.” Cecily replied as she rang the bell-cord. A maid came in, richly dressed and curtsied. ‘M’lady.” She had the comforting accent of a northern English woman, and Cecily started. It seemed that her homeland was seeping into this place in more ways than she expected.

“I would like to be readied for bed, please.”

“If ‘er ladyship wishes to follow ‘me, ‘ll ‘ave ‘er ready in no time.” The maid paused. “‘beggin your pardon, m’lady.” The maid curtsied. “‘Er Grace allows us to be much more open about our appearance and mannerisms as ‘he ‘mall folk.”

“Smallfolk?” Cecily inquired. “Ah. Common-people.” She surmised, and rubbed her hands together. “Well, As Her Grace’s lady in waiting, I am inclined to ‘gree.” Her voice was slipping back into its older more rough-and-tumble northern accent with the French roots and Latin pronouncements.

 It felt like home. 

Helaena gave her a warm smile, and for the first time since arriving into this strange land of dragons and politics, Cecily smiled back. No malice or pain shone in her eyes, and she found herself beginning to feel at home more than perhaps she had ever been since her brother and mother had died. 

As she crossed herself and knelt before her bed, the rosary-chain in her hand, she prayed silently to her mother once more.

Maman, Thank you for bringing me to a place as close to home as I can be. I hope that you and Ned and Papa are happy, wherever you are. She opened her eyes and glanced at Helaena who was talking to her snake. And keep a little Targaryen boy in your sights. I feel as though he and Ned would make wonderful playmates. 

Cecily crossed herself again and rose to her feet. She returned the crucifix and rosary to her pocket, then clambered into the turned down bed. She watched as the maids reached for tapers to extinguish the candles, and in the darkness, mused on one thing that had been made apparent by a mere day’s travel.

Ser Gwayne Hightower had been the lever and servant to her whims and had accepted them wholeheartedly. She had him to thank for her position. In the morn, perhaps she would ask the cook in this carriage to make him something sweet. Until then, she would sleep, and dream of boys with brown hair and freckles like stars, and somewhere out there, a mother who held her close. 

Somewhere out there also was a father who had died in a battle to keep his throne, and one who deserved to know she was at peace.

[nolife-sin]

My best friend said it’s ok to gain weight….. uh I think the fuck not

[rose-morose]

Ser Criston Cole in season 1 totally becomes the first incel in the history of Westeros

one girl says no to him and he goes off the deep end, holding nothing but simmering hatred and contempt in his evil rotting heart

now in season 2 he has taken on the alpha male persona, but an alpha male that is also a deeply repressed closeted queer, but instead of being queer and denouncing other queers with extreme prejudice, he is fucking the Queen Mother instead of doing his job and heavily overcompensating by heavily scrutinizing the other members of the king's guard and making rigorous or tedious demands for perfection

just as Alicent said, he seeks absolution

he will find none

[beebopurr]

She is going to die in this little fan story I'm making for funsies it's just a matter of how horribly

[carlsdraws]

ser criston cole and ser harwin strong having a like proxy sword fight and sending the children they respectively like best to beat the shit out of eachother while they scream and cheer them on like overinvested parents at a soccer match

[sugutoad]

Wdym the dance of dragons? Alicent and Rhaenyra are happily married. Mysaria is Rhaenyra’s mistress and Criston is Alicent’s. Criston is also with Gwayne (don’t ask who is with who, everyone should kiss) They did some Mellisandre magic and brought back Lucerys and Aemond’s eye. Apologies were exchanged. Jace is chilling in the North with Cregan and all is well. The Green’s keep the throne, but Rhaenyra is now Princess of Dragonstone, Jace is her heir, Luce is heir to Driftmark and Joffery is heir to Harrenhall. The Strong boys are legitimized by Aegon. Everyone is happy.

The End

[charlottesbookclub]

just shouting into the void to say i need to know all the little details about gwayne like. yesterday. like what’s his relationship like with his father? his sister? his mother even? how did her death affect him? what was his day-to-day life like in oldtown? what’s it like now? what does he like to do? what are his hobbies? does he have a favorite food? how does he feel about religion? what kind of friends does he have? what’s his relationship like with his men? what was his childhood like? what is his— [i am forcibly removed from the stage]

i know i’m being so unhinged about this man but these are the little details i go absolutely feral over

so if anyone has any info, meta, headcanons, musings, etc. please share!!!! 🙏🙏😩😩

(i know the show gave us tiny snippets of some of this but like i need to know way more. and maybe there’s more of this in the book, but from my understanding, book canon is kinda different from show canon, and i’m currently losing my mind over show!gwayne soooooo……)

[artcinemas]

sometimes i think about rhaegar frey's two paged monologue about how robb became a werewolf during the red wedding only to be turned into a pie by wyman manderly

[shiesie]

Another unhinged poll from yours truly 🫡