#oc insert kinda

Ever since your mother's passing you seemed to constantly act out. Whether it be sneaking out of the castle at night and returning early in the morning reeking of wine and filth, or taking flight on your dragon and disappearing for days until your elder sister had to come in search for you.

It had gotten worse when your father remarried. Alicent Hightower. You hated her with a bitter passion, and you hated her father even more. Otto. That scheming, no good-

It frustrated you to no end just to think about it. Which made you act out worse. Your father brushed it off as you being a grieving young girl, but Otto Hightower saw it as something that needed correction lest it grow out of control.

So, when Otto's second son, Gwayne, came to court, it felt fitting to assign him as your sword shield.

You treated him with malice and disdain since the moment you were told he would remain by your side to keep you under control. You didn't want to be tamed.

So you took your frustration out on the gentle night by your side. You made lazy excuses, you would kick him and claim it had only been a mistake. Send him to fetch nonexistent pastries. Drop your jewels into the fountains in the garden just so Gwayne would have to get his arms wet retrieving them. Some times, you even hid his sword.

Gwayne took it all with a stiff lip. He never complained, never raised his voice to you, nor his hand. He just... accepted your torment. Perhaps because it was what Otto had ordered him to do, or maybe it was because he pitied you.

On Aegon's second nameday, a grand hunt was held.

You almost refused to go, out of disdain for the child you were made to call brother. But, Rhaenyra had gently persuaded you, and you could not refuse your sister easily.

That day, you had overheard Lord's discussing if Viserys would name Aegon heir. And it made you helplessly angry. Rhaenyra was the heir, why should some Hightower babe be named that over her, just because he was a son?

You informed Gwayne that you wanted to take a walk in the woods. Ever dutiful, he agreed.

The second you were out of the open field and into the thick seclusion of the wooded forest, you took off running. You could feel sticks snagging on your gown, perhaps even tearing in some places. But in that moment, it didn't seem to matter.

An exasperated Gwayne followed closely behind.

Eventually you reached a small river, and without a word to Gwayne you shed your gown, tossing it haphazardly to the side and stepping into the cool water.

The fabric of your thin chemise stuck uncomfortably to your skin, but at the same time the cool of the water felt soothing. You waded further in until the water was up to your chest.

You turned to look at Gwayne who stood with his back facing you, a hand on the hilt of his sword, he seemed terribly rigid.

You laughed. Loud. Without shame, "Do you think not looking at me will make you a good protector, Ser?" She spoke, her tone sharp with amusement, "Or are you trying to prove you are better than other men."

Gwayne said nothing, but he swallowed hard.

You splashed water at him, though it scarcely reached, landing a few feet behind him.

He didn't flinch, only cleared his throat, "Princess, the water is cold. You should get out so we may return at once."

You rolled your eyes and floated back further into the body of water, letting out a content sigh through your nose.

"It's not cold," you argued lightly, but something flickered behind your gaze, "Turn around, Ser," you tone was softer this time.

You realized, to your own horror, you truly wanted him to turn around. Not just to torment him. It made you feel a little dizzy to think about it.

Gwayne seemed to tense, and you could hear his breath hitch. The command hung in the air between them, like a challenge. Or perhaps something more.

He did not turn. One boot scraping against the ground as if considering walking away entirely.

The sunlight glinted off the river's surface, casting rippling shadows across his profile. And God's, did you wish he was not so handsome.

When he finally spoke, his voice was firm, "I cannot, Princess."

You made a small, frustrated "hmph" sound.

You wished he would turn around, you imagined him taking his own clothes off, joining you in the water and...

You felt a flush of warmth creep up the back of your neck, and to your cheeks despite the chill the water brought.

You didn't want to think about how you truly felt towards Gwayne. It didn't feel right. He was a hightower, an enemy assigned to shadow you and keep you from your own will.

You swam back towards the shore, not coming out of the water yet, "And why is that, Ser?"

The way you drew out the word Ser on your saccharine tongue made him involuntarily shiver.

He still did not turn. But he could hear the soft splash of the water, the shift of weight as you neared the shore, and for a moment he let himself hope you were heeding him and getting out. But, of course, you didn't.

The air between you thickened with something unspoken. Something forbidden.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, not coldly or with harshness, just with restrained firmness.

"Because I am your shield,"

He paused.

"And because your father would have my eyes gouged out if I turned around right now."

You contemplated his answer, and again moved back into the middle of the water.

"Do I ever make you angry, Ser?" You mused out the question lazily, maneuvering in the water until you floated on your back.

You stared up at the sky that shone through the tree tops, blinking a couple times before adding, "When I torment you for my own amusement."

Gwayne finally turned his head, just a fraction to look at you out of the corner of his eye.

You floated there like some infuriatingly ethereal creature, your white gold hair fanned out around you like a halo.

He studied you for what seemed like a moment too long to him, before answering with honesty.

"Yes, princess."

He didn't hesitate, didn't try to sugarcoat it. He didn't doubt that you already knew. You did it on purpose, after all.

Then he added, in an uncharacteristic mutter;

"You make me very angry sometimes."

Even when he said it there was no real bite in his tone, just weary resignation of a man who had accepted his duty, even if it meant being tormented daily by a spoiled, cruel girl.

You shifted from how you were floating, submerging yourself in the water up to your chin. It made you pause when you saw that he was looking. Your boldness slipped away into a girlish shy feeling.

You wanted to laugh at his words, at the fact you made him angry and he could not do anything about it...but you didn't.

Instead; "Won't you swim with me?" You spoke carefully, a tinge of something unfamiliar in your tone.

His breath hitched again. He had never heard you ask for anything in that tone. You weren't being mocking, or commanding, it was something soft this time, something uncertain. It made his heart thump harder behind his ribs.

His fingers flexed around the hilt of his sword once, then stilled.

He knew he should refuse, why was he even considering? Why would he even want to? But he did. He desperately wanted to cross whatever invisible line lay between you.

You weren't laughing now. Weren't throwing stones at him or trying to push him and kick him, you were just... asking him to swim with you.

After a long silence he spoke, "... I have no spare clothes, princess."

"Well, take them off so you don't get them wet," You retorted flatly, giving a pointed glance to your own discarded gown on the shore.

You bit your cheek, letting yourself sink a bit deeper into the water.

His face warmed.

It was absurd how flustered he felt, not by your words but by the way you gazed at him. That unrelenting stare, the slight dip of your head as if daring him to obey. As if this were some great test he could not afford to fail.

He closed his eyes. 'God's forgive me.'

He reached for the clasp of his tunic, his movements deliberate and stiff with carefulness. And in some ways awkward in a way no man should be when undressing.

The fabric slipped off of one shoulder, then both arms came free. He laid it neatly on a flat rock, besides where your dress was haphazardly strewn out.

Next came his sword belt and boots, then hesitant fingers went to unfasten his trousers.

You watched with rapt interest, not giving him the decency of looking away while he undressed.

You were surprised he actually gave in. You would have bet coin that he wouldn't. (Always the honorable knight, he was)

Despite the water being so cool, in the moment you felt overwhelmingly hot.

Gwayne stepped free from his trousers, revealing strong legs. His tunic had been modest, but beneath it a simple linen shirt clung to his torso, damp with sweat from the day's heat.

He paused for just a fraction of a second before reaching to peel the shirt off his body.

You felt herself grow warmer as you watched him. His chest was broad, not overly muscular but solid. Lean strength carved from years of discipline. A few faint scars marked him, one across his collarbone, another near his ribs. Old wounds earned long before he was appointed her protector.

Without looking at you directly, (his gaze was fixed somewhere past your shoulder), he moved towards the waters edge and slowly stepped in.

You watched as he stepped into the water, the sun shone down through the trees onto his freckled face, casting golden shadows once again.

"You're very handsome, you know." You mused before turning in the water to swim away from him. Teasingly, maybe?

He froze in surprise. And heat flooded his chest at your words.

Very handsome? you were calling him handsome? It was shocking. This girl whose only joy in life seemed to be making him miserable, was complimenting him. He wondered if it was another cruel jest of yours at his expense.

He blinked rapidly, freckled nose scrunching slightly as if bracing for a punchline that never came.

By the time he had processed her words, you were already swimming away. He waded further into the water in pursuit.

You came to a still once again before submerging yourself under the water.

You stayed under the water for a nearly concerning time, but emerged further away by a large rock in the middle of the lake.

Your hand rested on it, your back turned to him. You glanced over your shoulder and gave him an inquisitive look.

He had watched with bated breath the entire time you were underwater, and had contemplated diving in after you.

When you surfaced near the rock, he breathed a silent sigh of relief.

The sight of you there, glistening in the dappled sunlight, one hand resting on the moss covered stone like some woodland spirit...it stole his thoughts clean away.

Something in the way you glanced at him sent a jolt of electricity through his body.

He waded deeper into the water after her.

You moved to get up on the rock, sitting up on it and kicking your feet in the water as you waited for him to approach.

The thin chemise you had left on was now completely soaked, and see through. It left very little to the imagination.

Your chest heaved slightly, a little out of breath from being underwater so long, but nevertheless a rare, genuine smile adorned your face.

Gwayne’s pulse thundered in his ears as he waded closer.

The water reached his thighs, then higher, soaking the hem of his linen smallclothes, the only garment still clinging to him. He didn’t care about modesty now. Shockingly it was the last thing on his mind when you were sitting there on that sun-warmed rock like a vision, your soaked chemise clinging to every curve.

Your smile hit him harder than any blow ever could.

It wasn’t mocking, like usual. It wasn't sharp or bitter or cruel, the kind you wore at court when sneering at Alicent or Otto, or when you tormented him, but real. Soft and bright and utterly disarming.

He stopped just before the rock's edge where your dangling feet broke small ripples across the surface.

The way he looked at you made your heart thump harder in her chest, and your grip subconsciously tightened on the mossy rock.

When he came closer, you flicked your foot in the water, playfully splashing him.

The cold splash hit him in the face. He paused for a beat before a deep, unexpected laugh escaped from his lips.

He cupped water in his hand and lazily splashed her back.

You giggled as well when splashed, water dripping down your collarbone and soaking into your already drenched chemise.

You looked down at him for a moment, your eyes crinkling around the edges with mirth.

You slid off the rock and into the water, swimming all the way around it until you were directly behind him.

He watched in confusion as you hopped down from your perch, an eyebrow raised.

He was surprised when you swam up behind him, making water ripple against his lower back.

Before he could react it happened, soft hands pressed into his shoulder blades, followed by a sudden shove. Not hard enough to push him under the water, or even truly throw him off balance. Just enough to send him lurching forward into deeper water with an undignified stumble.

And then without a word, your body was pressed up against his back. You draped her arms over his shoulders, your fingers splaying out over his chest.

Your weight against him was light in the water, and he could easily pull away or turn around. If he wanted to.

He went utterly still.

The warmth of your body pressed against his back sent sparks skittering across his skin. Your arms were delicate but strong, the way a rider’s limbs are, and they wrapped around him like ivy clinging to stone.

He could feel every breath you took; the faint dampness of your soaked chemise against the thin linen of his drawers. The water lapped gently around the two of you, quiet now, as if holding its breath with him.

His heart hammered so violently he was certain you must have heard it through your closeness.

Every instinct screamed at him to do something, but not because he wanted to escape… no, how could he?

Because this was dangerous territory.

You leaned your head forward, nuzzling it into his shoulder.

"avy jorrāelan, ñuha rȳbasor knigtor." You murmured breathily against his shoulder, your fingers brushing invisible patterns on his bare chest and stomach.

The high valriyan had been very purposeful, because you knew that he would know not of the meaning of her words. You didn't have the courage to speak them in the common tongue.

Gwayne didn’t understand the words.

The melody of valyrian slipped through him like a secret wind, beautiful and foreign. But even without knowing their meaning, your voice against his shoulder, the softness of it, the intimacy in that breathy murmur, the effect was overwhelming.

Your fingers traced idle shapes over his chest, gentle swirls across warm skin damp from water. Each touch sent quiet tremors through him, not sexual… not quite… but something deeper. Something tender and unspoken.

He exhaled.

You stayed like that silently for a moment, your hands stilling.

A few minutes passed, though it seemed more like hours.

"We should return to camp," You said softly, responsibly. Very rare for the reckless, vivacious princess.

In that moment, Gwayne abandoned all the decorum he had, all honor and all the fragility between them.

He turned in your arms, and looked down at you, his hands finding your soft waist. "May I kiss you, princess?"

Your breath hitched in shock, but you couldn't find it in yourself to refuse. Not when he was looking at you like that.

You gave a small nod.

With your consent, he finally leaned down and pressed a claiming kiss to your sweet, honeyed lips.

Super self indulgent but I've been loving Gwayne lately and wanted to write something for him hehe

*Also this wasn't proof read so my apologies for any mistakes