Work Text:
As he was retiring to his tent that night, Gwayne mulled over his previous conversation with his Lord Commander. He'd taken Cole for many things, but not a martyr. He was by no means the young knight he had once been, but he was still young, and marching with someone so sure of his demise was a bitter thought. They'd all gotten discomfited after all they'd gone through, and the battle at Rook's Rest had been the bloodiest massacre his eyes had had the misfortune of seeing, but this wasn't all. Cole was affected, as they all were, but his affections seemed only to be the snowed top of a colossal mountain.
Dinner with the Hightower knights had helped, though he’d still chosen to take a long walk around camp to clear the fog in his mind, watching the rest of the men get ready for bed. After a while, as he pulled open the flap of his tent he was confident in getting a good night's rest, despite the awkwardness of the earlier confrontation.
Just when his head had made it through the threshold of the leather opening, the wooden support at one of the top joists came loose from the rope binding it to the rest of the structure and the tent started folding on itself, logs and ropes and different materials used for tying it all together falling in a heap and trapping half of his body under the clutter.
When the initial state of confusion had passed, Gwayne extracted himself from the remnants of his tent and got up, holding a hand to his head where a particularly sturdy chunk of timber had hit him.
Despite the mess it made, the disassembly had been pretty quiet, the leaves on the soft ground and the night breeze cushioning the noise.
He unclutched his hand from his head and noticed a petulant throb begin its torment, but paid it no mind as he lifted the leather of his tent and peeked inside, grabbing ahold of some of the timber and rope. It was no use, he had no idea how any of it worked, the young squires usually being the ones set out through these kinds of tasks. Just when he decided on calling up a couple of them to help him install his tent back, he heard the sound of stones crunching behind him.
“Having any trouble, Ser?”
Turning around, Gwayne was met with the silhouette of none other than Cole, lightened by the moon. He couldn’t see his face very well, but he bet from the tone of his voice he was smiling at his disgrace.
“None at all. You wouldn’t happen to know the man responsible for piecing this together, would you?” He made a show of kicking some of the rubbish aside with his foot, “I fear tonight is much too chilly for star-gazing.”
Cole didn’t move, he was wearing his armor again, as he’d probably been scouting the area until recently.
“Never learned how to build your own tents in Oldtown, my Lord?”
“Not all of us have needed to learn how to undertake these kinds of labors, Ser Criston. But do enlighten me.”
Cole’s face remained hidden until he walked next to where Gwayne was standing, his left pauldron brushing Gwayne’s shoulder. He crouched and inspected the rumble of materials.
“The wood has rotten from the rain, it isn’t stable.”
“So let me call one of the squires to fix it.” He turned to make for the direction of the lower ranking knights, “I need to sleep.”
“Wait, Ser Gwayne.” He waited until Gwayne was facing him to continue, “The men are already asleep, it wouldn’t do to start making noise about over such a simplicity. We need them staunch on the morrow.”
Cole rose to his feet, and Gwayne had to take a step back so their shoulders wouldn’t touch again.
“Simplicity? I just had my accommodation destroyed, Lord Commander. In which Gods-forsaken realm is that a simplicity?”
Cole looked at him a moment, and then replied, “We do not carry additional materials, Ser, we got rid of them along with the men they served a purpose to.”
“What would you have me do then, Cole? Just speaking to you is making me progressively more tired.”
“Share a tent, like the low-ranking knights do all the time.”
“Has the march impacted your judgment much?” said Gwayne, although Cole’s face did not imply as such.
“I’m being earnest. Just ask one of your men and be at ease, we have a long tread ahead of us.”
Gwayne tilted his face towards the other man and lowered his voice, “You’d have me lower myself and nestle along the men I’m supposed to be leading?”
“I’ll be doing the leading, Ser. You’ll be helping me.”
Gwayne scoffed and pushed Cole aside to pat at the remains of the tent, “Be on your way then, I’ll lift it up myself if I have to.”
He heard Cole coughing a laugh and the sound of the stones crunching again as he took off towards his own tent, just a bit to the side of his own.
“I bestow my luck to you. And do let me know if you change your mind, I’d be more than happy to share my hospice with you.”
“In your dreams, Cole. I’d rather share it with Vhagar herself.”
With a click of his tongue Cole retreated to the warmth of his tent and left Gwayne to lap uselessly at his own rubbish. The toad. A fortnight ago he would have gotten in the first tent he saw and kindly asked the men inside to find themselves someplace else to spend the night. But he felt tired, more so than he’d felt since their journey started, and the thought of doing that made him feel even worse, although he couldn’t quite figure out why.
He first tried to tighten the rope binding the joint with the heavy wooden pillar, adding in one of the few knots he knew. He did the same with the other pillars, but to his utmost demise, Cole had been right and the wood was disintegrating in his hands, too flimsy to hold the rope onto the nub. He could try to find a way to attach the joints together, but he didn’t quite feel like doing that. Besides, he had a hunch he wouldn’t be able to no matter how hard he tried. And not to mention he’d need at least another man to erect the whole thing up and hammer the poles through the ground.
The Seven could strike Cole right then for all he cared. The cunt could have helped him if he’d felt like it. Perhaps it was retribution for Gwayne airing Cole’s business with Alicent in front of his brothers of the Kingsguard, a mess which he himself had gotten into.
With frustration seeping through his veins, he begrudgingly lifted the leather of the covering and foraged until he found his bed linen from his makeshift bed. If he did this, he would do it to spite Cole at the very least. He got up and paused. With hesitation, he crouched back down until he found his nightshirt, tugging it along the rest of things and making his way to Cole’s tent.
He didn’t bother with the knocking, instead he lifted the flap of the tent and entered as if it was his own. Cole shot up from where he was seated in front of his desk, but Gwayne paid him no mind other than to notice he’d finally gotten rid of his armor and laid out a map on the table. He knew he was awake from the light emanating from below his canvas, but he hadn’t expected him to be studying their current situation this far through the night.
Turning his head away from Cole’s general direction, he went to the furthest corner from Cole’s own bed and started arranging his belongings.
“What are you doing?”
Gwayne didn’t look at him as he replied, “Backing away from your promise now? Do you have a tendency to break that for which you compromise?”
“I didn’t know we’d exchanged such serious commitments, my Lord.”
“Oh, don’t look so resigned. What? You didn’t think I'd take you up on your offer?”
“I’d have thought from the hundreds of men in our troops you’d find someone better suited for being in your company, Ser Gwayne.”
After his initial shock he was back in his seat, looking at the map and fiddling with the pieces on top of it, representing houses and dragons and men. He looked relaxed, like Gwayne’s presence didn’t bother him half as much as he’d hoped for.
Gwayne suddenly felt uncomfortable and singled-out, in the corner of Cole’s room, as if he was an accessory more that didn’t require any attention. Like he didn’t really mind him being there at all.
Nonetheless, he’d already gone through all the trouble of getting there, so he arranged his sheets and blankets flat on the floor, and gently fluffed-up his cushion. He set his night clothes at the feet of the sheets.
He walked up to Cole and looked through his shoulder, “Haven’t you done enough for this day?”
“We still need to find the best route to Harrenhal. Border Blackwater Bay without being seen.”
Cole was fixated on the piece of paper, although it looked like he hadn’t done much more than gaze into it, skimming his eyes over the rivers and the frontiers. Now that he looked at him, Gwayne noticed the black circles under his eyes, and the way his body tensed, as if it was trapping him inside.
“I’m sure Harrenhal won’t have moved in the couple hours it takes for your brain to stop worrying about death and annihilation.”
He saw Cole’s lips curl a little at the sides and made for his bed. He sat on his blanket on top of the floor, the stones of the ground digging through his bloomers, and began taking off his boots, aware Cole had turned his head to look at his movements.
“Didn’t take you for someone willing to sleep on the hard ground, Ser. I must admit I’m quite impressed.”
“Just because my upbringing has been rather nurturing does not make me unable to engage in more gruesome circumstances if needed,” he saw Cole’s smirk slowly fade into his usual scowl, “I am a knight just like you, Ser Criston.”
“Never said you weren’t.”
“Right, well in any case I would appreciate you blowing off your candles. I find myself incapable of sleeping with light pouring behind my eyelids.”
“I am not finished. Cover your eyes.” Gwayne was about to protest when Cole carried on, “And feel free to use the bed, I doubt I’ll make much use of it during this night.”
Gwayne had taken his second boot off and laid the both of them neatly next to the wall of the canvas. He debated on whether or not to follow his usual night routine and take off his padded shirt in favor of his lighter and significantly more comfortable nightshirt. Cole most definitely slept in his regular clothes, he wouldn’t even be surprised if he found him sleeping in his armor.
“You don’t plan on sleeping at all? How about needing the men staunch? Does it not apply to you?”
“It really does not, as it happens.”
Gwayne finally decided on the nightshirt and started unbuttoning his current shirt, very concentrated on his current task.
“You know, for someone so eager to unite with the Gods, you seem quite keen on getting your way.”
He came to the last button and took it off, leaving his undershirt on as he folded his shirt and left it along with his boots.
“‘Tis only my duty. The Gods would not accept someone with no honor left in them.”
Cole was looking at him now, and only broke his gaze when Gwayne took off his undershirt, his upper body only covered in the chilly air of the night. He quickly put on his nightshirt and removed his bloomers as well, leaving on his socks for good measure.
Cole returned to his task of gazing at the map, occasionally moving a piece or scribbling something with a chunk of chalk. With everything so quiet around them, Gwayne couldn’t help but think about Cole’s previous words in front of their men. And then about Alicent, about the both of them. His sister was a good woman, but too burdened for her own good. It was only fair for her to find herself something to take some distress off her heart. To think the man in front of him was his sister’s own personal plaything was almost unbelievable and a little comical, albeit a bit sad as well. Did Cole know his beacon didn’t feel half the way he felt about her? Or perhaps she did, and Gwayne was just being bitter.
Cole could talk all he wanted, but Gwayne was seeing the way his eyes blinked slower than before, his shoulders dropping low where they’d usually be perched up as if he had a stick up his arse. Cole’s head slowly fell from where it was being held by his hand and Gwayne decided he’d had enough.
“Will you put the candles out?”
“No.”
Gwayne lifted himself and walked up next to Cole, careful so his feet landed along the narrow shaggy rug spread out instead of the hard stones and branches of the ground.
“You’re falling asleep.”
Cole sighed and rubbed a hand through his face, “You can barely see the light from the bed, my Lord. Please either let me keep it or find yourself someplace else to sleep in.”
Cole was probably right and he could most definitely sleep soundly even with the soft candlelight, but Gwayne still grabbed the taper by the golden base and brought it close to his face to blow it off. Despite his protests, he tried reaching through Cole’s arms for the other taper on the opposite side of the desk, but Cole quickly grabbed it and placed it away from his reach. With the both of them now being face-to-face, he noticed Cole eyeing him in an almost worrying way.
“What is it now?”
“Did you get hurt?”
“What?”
“Your head.”
Gwayne stilled when he understood what Cole was referring to, the throbbing on his forehead making itself known again. With all of the arguing he’d forgotten about it.
Cole brought the candle between them and lifted it to inspect Gwayne’s forehead. He felt the touch of his fingers on the soon-to-be lump and flinched away from them. He told himself it was from the pain.
“Oh, just some of the debris from the tent. Doesn’t hurt much.”
“Get a look at it tomorrow from the maester, make sure it’s nothing serious.”
Cole lowered the taper back on his desk and sat back down, “And rest up,” he said this by nodding at his own bed on the other side of the canvas, “we have a long day ahead of us, I’ll put it out now.”
“Where will you sleep?”
“We could share, the bed is broad enough. Besides, it'll provide some shield from the cool of night. Unless it is too unrefined for you, my Lord. In that case I shall sleep on the floor.”
Gwayne knew he was jesting, but he also had the inkling Cole would do exactly that if Gwayne insisted on it just the slightest bit. It was a provocation. If he declined, Cole would be proven right in him being too delicate for the knight lifestyle, but accepting wasn’t the desired response either.
“Very well then.”
Gwayne eyed him from above, but Cole kept his eyes away as he tidied up his things, storing the pieces in wooden boxes and rolling the map.
He couldn’t figure out Cole’s expression in the dim light, though he could feel some hesitance from the way he moved, as if this hadn’t really been the response he’d been expecting. Nonetheless, Gwayne did not quite feel like sleeping on the floor, so he tried to quiet his thoughts as he slowly made for the bed.
It was a decent size, fitting for the Lord Commander of the King’s Guard, but it was not meant as a space for two grown men. He lifted the linen and crawled inside, facing the opposite side of Cole so the sore area of his head ached as little as possible. He thanked the Gods for this position, as he could hide his face from the other man. He started feeling uncomfortable, for a number of reasons he had a hard time even categorizing.
First was the obvious part about lying next to a man. Although Gwayne was not a stranger to the concept, doing it with the lover of his sister wasn’t a comforting thought. Doing it with someone who’d just admitted to him the pleasantness he’d feel when his days finally came to an end also slightly disturbed him. And then there was the fact that the night wasn’t particularly chilly. It was cold enough to need to seek refuge under the plush bed sheets- especially in his current state of undress- but not enough to warrant the warmth of another’s body by his side. Gwayne couldn’t find a believable excuse for them to be doing this, and it troubled him.
As he listened to Cole removing his boots but leaving the rest of his clothes on, he thought about his sister. About how often they’d been told of their resemblance. And how possible it was that a man as depressed and miserable as Cole would use the most akin thing to his beacon to satisfy his own personal needs, even if Gwayne wasn’t of his exact predilection.
What troubled him the most was that on a good day he wouldn’t even have been opposed to the idea, on the contrary, he would have perhaps welcomed it. Criston Cole was undoubtedly quite the appealing knight, and his personality only turned Gwayne the smallest bit off. Knowing he’d shagged his sister helped with the distancing, and the possibility of Cole shagging him in return for his resemblance to her definitely put an end to Gwayne’s wandering thoughts.
He felt the bed dip and a light breeze graze his back as Cole settled behind him, and he found some relief at noticing he maintained some separation between them.
What could Cole possibly want? Was he really so desperate? From their earlier conversation he’d gathered he thought more with what was beneath his pants rather than with his head, but Gwayne didn’t think he’d dare. If he did, he’d be sure to push him away, to let him know he was not interested. But did it matter anymore? He saw in himself more honor than in Cole, but knowing his death could come to him in a matter of weeks- days even, if they were unlucky- made him unsure. Would the Gods forgive him for seeking and allowing this last form of embrace? Could he forgive himself?
“How did she save you?”
The words were out of his mouth without him even allowing them to. He sensed Cole’s shock, but the knight's voice remained confident as he questioned him.
“Ser?”
“My sister. You said she saved you twice. One from yourself. Why would you do that?”
He didn’t know what compelled him to speak like that, perhaps the situation was affecting him more than he’d anticipated. He felt stirring behind him and Cole sighed, the air tickling his left ear. “It was a long time ago, my Lord. No use thinking about it now.”
“I insist. I would like to know if I’m marching with someone with no care for keeping their own life.”
There was a pause in which Gwayne thought the other knight was ignoring him, but after a while he continued, “I believe I already told you, Ser. I sinned and lost all my honor. My cloak was the only thing I had, the only thing I could bring my name and family some semblance of pride. But I stained it. The only way I could find myself was by ending it all. Offering myself to the Gods. But your sister gave me a reason to live, and for that I owe everything I have to her.”
Gwayne didn’t speak, couldn’t. He didn’t think he wanted to know exactly what Cole had done to damage his honor in such an irredeemable way, as he’d put it. He was afraid it would alter his perception of him, the one he’d manufactured since the beginning of their campaign. That of a man corrupted by war, but still a man doing what he thought was best for the things he believed in. He knew Cole was no pure soul, but he didn’t want him to be a fiend either.
He wanted to press on, to subtract something more, but Cole beat him to it, “What matters is we’re here now. And we will march with what we’ve got. My apologies if my words earlier in the day made you uncomfortable, Ser. I do not wish to cause you any added grief.”
“You perturb me, Cole. I am not fond of seeing you around the queen dowager.”
Cole scoffed and tentatively put a hand on Gwayne’s hip, his touch intensified by the thinness of his nightshirt, “Good thing you’re here instead of her, then. To keep me away from her.”
Gwayne despised that the words had an effect on him, and not precisely a negative one.
“Restrict yourself, Lord Commander. Considering your history, I have no desire in being another of your failed courtship victims.”
Cole at the very least laughed at his clear attempt at a joke, wanting to free himself from the tension and sorrow surrounding them.
“Didn’t think you’d need to be courted, my good Ser.”
Gwayne grabbed the hand at his hip and tugged it until it wrapped around his middle, forcing the other man closer.
“I do, if you really must know,” he heard Cole humm and nuzzled his head on the cushion, the growing familiar smell of burned wood seeping through his nose, “now grant me this one favor and allow me some sleep.”
Cole got comfortable on the same pillow he had his head on- Gwayne’s own bed covers and cushion abandoned somewhere on the other side of the tent- and Gwayne sensed the even breaths on the back of his neck, lulling him away.
“That I can do, Ser.”
He found himself asleep not too long after that. In a bizarre sort of way, the tent felt restful, and the warm body beside him wasn’t much bothersome either. Perhaps it’d been too long since he’d felt another’s hold. Or perhaps Cole was right about one thing and they were all marching to the quietus of their souls and the misplacing of their minds.