you are my moonlight
In which gwayne hightower meets his future wife, and his timing is most unfortunate
PAIRING: gwayne hightower x reader, alicent hightower x PLATONIC!reader, rhaenyra targaryen x PLATONIC!reader
WARNINGS: fluff, young love, friends fighting, creepy viserys, horrible timing
AN: this could be read as a prequel to come back to me, but does NOT have to be read to understand any context!!
The tourney was in full swing, Y/N sitting eagerly on Rhaenyra’s left. The first two matches had finished rather similarly, with Sir Criston Cole being the winner. What the trio was actually waiting for was Prince Daemon’s match. It was all Rhaenyra had talked about for days and the fact that he’d gifted her a necklace of Valyrian steel, a rare and precious token that many in the realm could not afford. Of course, Rhaenyra and her family were the exception, as they were one of two of the only remaining High Valyrian houses left.
The knights of the realm lined up before the Prince, the Master of Revels, announced the man himself. “Prince Daemon of House Targaryen, Prince of the City, will now choose his first opponent.” The prince rode down the line, inspecting each knight briefly. He quickly settled on Alicent’s brother, Ser Gwayne. “For his first challenge, Prince Daemon Targaryen chooses Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown, eldest son of the Hand of the King.”
Alicent grew restless, picking at the skin surrounding her fingers. Y/N wished she could comfort the auburn haired girl herself, but Rhaenyra grabbed her friend's hand quickly, stopping her from further injury. The two men lined up on their respective sides, racing towards each other.
Ser Gwayne released the first blow to the shock of the stands. Y/N beamed, though she did not know why. She hardly knew the knight, only hearing of him through Alicent when she recalled her childhood. The second round was quick, and at the last second, Prince Daemon lowered his joust in front of the horse's legs, causing it to topple over, taking Ser Gwayne with it. She gasped, a hand covering her mouth. She mumbled, knowing Rhaenyra would not stand for any untoward talk of her uncle. “By the seven.”
Ser Gwayne did not move, and Alicent grew more anxious by the second. Y/N reached her hand out, grasping Alicent's briefly. “He will be alright, Alicent, I know it.” The squires lifted him from the ground, walking him over to the medicine tent. He would be transported later to the sept, Y/N assumed. She would have to visit him and keep him company while he recovered.
Prince Daemon approached the Royal apartment, and Rhaenyra instantly approached her uncle. “Nicely done, Uncle.” Alicent and Y/N followed suit, still squeamish from the clearly immoral act.
“Thank you, Princess.” Daemon nodded his head. “Lady Y/N.”
He turned to Alicent. “Now, I’m fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent. Having your favor would all but assure it.” Alicent walked away, and Daemon smiled once more at the ward of the crown. “Next tourney, my lady, I shall ask you.”
Y/N laughed. “I look forward to that day, my Prince.”
Alicent returned swiftly, placing her favor on the Prince’s joust. “Good luck, my Prince.” The three girls sat down, waving at the crowd. The tourney had turned sour near after, with three fights breaking out, all ending in death. The knights, who had never seen battle, were bloodthirsty from what she could tell.
Y/N grew nauseous quickly, begging Rhaenyra for pardon so that she did not grow sick. Rushing out of the royal apartment, she decided to visit Ser Gwayne while she still had the nerve. The tent was quiet, with the exception of a few masters concocting ointments. Y/N peaked around the corner, coming face to face with Alicent’s brother. She curtsied, bowing her head. “My lord.” He tried to sit up, but she quickly stopped him. “Please, there is no need to further harm yourself.”
He smiled gratefully. “I must ask for your forgiveness, my lady; I do not remember meeting you.”
“I am Y/N of House Hawthorne. A ward of the crown and a friend of your sister’s.”
“A pleasure, my lady.” He tilted his head. “Has she sent you here then?”
“Alicent remains at the tourney. I-” She blushed, realizing how foolish it sounded. “I saw your joust, and I wanted to see that you were well. For Alicent’s sake.”
He nodded, a smirk growing on his lips. “For Alicent, of course. I must say, I have not heard of House Hawthorne.” She smiled, sitting beside him.
“We are located in the Westerlands, my lord, and are sworn to House Lannister.” She looked closer at his wound, wincing. “Your wound looks rather agitated still. Would you mind if I-”
He shook his head quickly. “Please. I would be most appreciative.”
She stood, sneaking a cloth and an herb she knew caused numbing. Wrapping it carefully, she dipped the cloth in water, tapping it lightly on his skin. “This should numb the pain, for now, my lord. I’ve known this herb to speed the healing process along quite nicely.”
He hummed, closing his eyes. “How did you become so well acquainted with such knowledge?”
“My mother was a trained healer, my lord.”
“Please call me Gwayne.” He peeked through his eyelids, giving her a kind smile. “You’ve all but earned it.”
“Very well, my lo- Gwayne.” She nodded. “If I can call you by your name, it is only fair that you call me by mine.”
He scoffed. “Hardly. That would be highly improper.”
She raised an eyebrow, still delicately tapping the cloth. “Opposed to what you have asked of me?”
He nodded, steadfast. “You are a lady. You should be addressed as such.”
Dipping the cloth back in the water, she laughed. “Hardly.”
“Using my own words against me.” He laughed back. “My, you are a wonder.”
She froze, turning around quickly. For some reason Y/N felt guilty, caught even. But seeing Alicent stand at the end of her brother’s bed, her face as pale as the winter snow, made the girl forget her worries. Y/N dropped the cloth in the bowl, rushing to Alicent’s side. “What is it? What’s happened?”
“The Queen. She’s-” Alicent leaned closer, whispering in her friend's ear. “She’s dead.” Y/N gasped.
“I-” Y/N turned back to Gwayne, waving quickly. “It was wonderful to make your acquaintance, my lord.” The two girls rushed off, leaving the knight thoroughly confused.
“Call me-” The girl was out of the tent before he could finish his sentence.
