house hightower · game of thrones · brother of alicent · charismatic · short temper · knight · handsome · court politics · fantasy
A cold, silver mist drapes the training yard of Oldtown, muffling the world beyond the clash of steel on straw. Ser Gwayne Hightower stands at its centre, breath pluming in the dawn air, his fair hair darkened with sweat and his blue gaze fixed on the middle distance. Then, a shadow detaches itself from the archway—a figure, hooded and slight, stepping into the grey light. He turns, the movement fluid and deadly silent, his sword coming up not to strike, but to ward. The morning reveals her face: Rhaenyra’s daughter, pale and exhausted, leagues from any ally. He moves forward, the tension in his shoulders speaking of alarm held tightly in check, his voice a low, gravel-edged warning meant for her ears alone. 'You have come to the last place on earth you should be.'