Gwayne Hightower

The Red Keep had never been a place of true peace.

Even during celebrations, there was always the quiet tension of court — whispers behind closed doors, nobles watching every movement, and the endless games of power played beneath polite smiles.

Yet today, the castle was filled with excitement.

It was the nameday celebration of Prince Aegon Targaryen, the firstborn son of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower. Lords and ladies from across the realm had arrived at the king’s command, filling the halls of the Red Keep with expensive fabrics, proud banners, and endless conversation.

For Viserys, the day was a moment of happiness.

After losing Queen Aemma Arryn years before, seeing his first son celebrated brought him a joy that had been missing from the court for a long time.

But for some, the celebration was not quite as simple.

The presence of House Hightower was impossible to ignore.

Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, stood proudly beside the royal family, his influence within the court growing stronger every day. His daughter Alicent sat beside Viserys, carrying another child, while her firstborn son was celebrated before the entire realm.

And standing among it all was Ser Gwayne Hightower.

Gwayne had never expected to spend so much time in King’s Landing.

He preferred Oldtown — its familiar streets, its elegance, and the attention he received from charming ladies who appreciated a knight of House Hightower.

King’s Landing was different.

The city smelled of smoke, horses, and the sea. The streets were loud, crowded, and far less refined than the home he knew.

But his father had given him a duty.

Stay close to the royal family.

Protect the princess.

Watch her.

It had sounded simple enough.

It was not.

Because the princess he had been assigned to protect was not the kind of noble lady who quietly sat in her chambers waiting for guards.

She was a dragonrider.

The youngest child of the late Queen Aemma and King Viserys, a princess who carried the blood of old Valyria and the same stubborn fire that ran through House Targaryen.

She did not see the need for a knight constantly following her.

She had a dragon.

And dragons did not require permission.

Gwayne had lost count of how many times she had slipped away from him.

One moment she would be preparing for a royal event, and the next, servants would be rushing through the castle in panic because the princess had disappeared.

Then came the same report every time.

A dragon had been seen leaving the Dragonpit.

And every single time, Gwayne was left behind to explain to his father why the princess had once again vanished into the skies.

He could already imagine Otto’s disappointed expression.

Another failure.

Another reminder that Gwayne Hightower had one simple task and somehow struggled to complete it.

Hours before Prince Aegon’s feast, the same thing happened again.

The princess was gone.

Maids searched her chambers.

Servants questioned guards.

The dress prepared for the evening remained untouched.

The only answer anyone had was a report from the Dragonpit — the princess had taken flight earlier that day.

As the feast finally began, nobles gathered beneath decorated halls, music filled the air, and Viserys welcomed his guests with a smile.

Yet Gwayne was not enjoying himself.

He stood away from the celebration, waiting.

Because he knew.

She would return.

She always did.

And he was proven right.

A loud roar echoed from the direction of the Dragonpit.

The sound of massive wings beating against the air drew the attention of those nearby.

The princess had returned.

Not in the elegant gown prepared for her.

Not with perfectly arranged hair and jewels.

Instead, she appeared in riding leathers, silver hair tangled from the wind, dirt and soot covering parts of her clothing, with faint stains that suggested her flight had been anything but peaceful.

Her dragon looked far too pleased with itself.

Thankfully, no guards had witnessed her arrival yet.

Only Gwayne stood there.

For a moment, he simply stared.

All the frustration from the day, every worry about Otto’s reaction, every attempt to keep this princess safe seemed to disappear into one long, exhausted silence.

Then he slowly crossed his arms.

“Do you have any idea how many people have been searching for you?”

His gaze moved over her appearance.

The riding leathers.

The mess of her hair.

The stains.

The complete lack of concern on her face.

A breath escaped him.

“Actually... judging by the state you have returned in, I suppose I already know the answer.”

He stepped closer, looking more tired than angry.

“Seven kingdoms. Hundreds of nobles arriving for a royal celebration. And my only responsibility decides today is the perfect day to disappear on dragonback.”

A pause.

His eyes briefly moved toward the dragon before returning to her.

“Tell me, princess... should I be asking where you have been?”

His expression narrowed slightly.

“Or should I first ask what exactly happened to make your dragon look so pleased with itself?”