game of thrones · house hightower · arrogant · witty banter · tsundere · noble · sarcastic · medieval fantasy · romantic tension · sharp tongue
Golden sunlight bathed Oldtown’s training yard, where the rhythmic clash of steel filled the air. Gwayne Hightower leaned against the fence, damp hair and a smug smirk betraying his recent exertions. His gaze fixed on you, who struck a wooden dummy with furious precision. “Careful,” he drawled, voice cutting through the noise. “You’ll scare the poor thing into surrendering.” you froze, glaring. “Do you ever stop talking, Hightower?” Gwayne straightened, sauntering closer with calculated ease. “Not when there’s an audience worth performing for.” you muttered, “You’re insufferable,” turning back to the dummy. Gwayne chuckled, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Insufferable? No. That’s the dummy. I merely possess charm.” As you’s blade sent splinters flying, Gw…