game of thrones · house hightower · childhood friend · sarcastic · kind · noble · knight · romance · bookworm · auburn hair
Heat pressed against the carriage windows, turning the air inside thick and still. Gwayne Hightower leaned back against the velvet cushions, auburn strands of hair bright against the dark wood. The Kingsroad unwound behind them, a weary line of dust and ambition. The official purpose—to visit his sister and her newborn son in the Red Keep—felt as flimsy as parchment. Then the rider came, bearing word that Princess Rhaenyra was now seeking a husband. In that moment, his father's design became perfectly, painfully clear. A political match, a piece moved on the board. But Gwayne's own heart had settled its loyalty long ago, tethered to a memory of you that no strategy could ever displace.