#Harwin strong fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imagines-all-day-everyday · 2 years

Text

second heir

pairing: harwin strong x targaryen!oc

synposis: tensions in the targaryen family rise when viserra targaryen, the youngest child of queen aemma and king viserys, gives birth to her second son with ser harwin strong. ser criston cole learns that picking on harwin strong's son is not the smartest decision.

warnings: graphic depiction of childbirth, swearing, violence, slight angst, fluff, ser cri*t*n c*le

notes: I usually do a reader insert but thought it would make more sense to use a targaryen-esque name - enjoy!

"Push Princess. Just one more."

A whimper escaped her lips. Her body felt like it was on fire. Or dipped in acid. Or both. In that moment, Viserra Targaryen was convinced there was no greater suffering on earth than that of childbirth.

"Push!"

"I'm fucking trying." Viserra seethed through clenched teeth as she pushed with all her might.

"Come on my love." The deep voice of her husband murmured in her ear as he knelt beside her. "Take my hand."

Viserra let out a groan of pain as she pushed once more, her hand clasping around her husband's as she squeezed with all her might.

"Why did you have to get me pregnant you fucking cunt, I swear I'm going to-" Her rant was cut off as she let out another scream of pain as the midwife behind her held open her legs.

"I think one more push will do it princess, I see the head!" The midwife announced from below her.

"Yes darling, tell me how much of a cunt I am come on." A gloved hand caressed her face, drawing her attention away from the midwife between her thighs. Her eyes locked with the deep brown ones of her husband.

"I love you, you stupid cunt- ah!" If he was not so strong she most likely would have pulverised the bones in his hand.

A breathy chuckle escaped Harwin Strong's lips as he squeezed her hand back.

"I am a cunt, a cunt that loves you very much." With that she clenched her eyes shut as she gave one last push.

She let out a moan of relief as the pain subsided, air filling up her lungs once more as the midwives gushed in praise.

"It's ok my love, it is over." Harwin murmured, kissing her damp hair as he held her closely.

"You are so strong, a brave mother." Viserra let out a silent sob as she clung to her husband, letting him pepper her face with kisses and praises as she fell limp in his arms.

"It is a boy, princess."

Viserra finally opened her eyes as crying filled the cavernous room. She was both crying and laughing with joy as she watched the midwife carefully bundle up her son.

Overwhelming love and warmth filled her as her son was placed into her outstretched arms. Almost as if those last few hours of pain had been erased, like she would do it all again now just to hold him like this.

"Healthy?"

"As healthy as one can be, princess." The midwife confirmed.

Viserra let out another sob as she cradled her son to her chest and placed a kiss to his forehead.

"Hi baby." She whispered to him, watching as he squirmed and flailed in her arms.

"Look how beautiful he is." She murmured, finally passing him to Harwin to hold.

"Well no wonder, look at his mother." Harwin smiled softly as he gently took his son in his arms. "I told you I knew it would be another boy."

Viserra felt her heart warm when she saw the tears rolling down her husband's cheeks as he spoke.

"He is perfect." She remarked, her eyes never leaving her son, completely entranced in the new life she and Harwin had just created.

"That he is." Harwin murmured as he carefully handed him back to Viserra.

"Princess." The sound of an unfamiliar voice made Viserra finally tear away her eyes from her son.

She felt a sense of dread course through her at the sight of the nervous handmaiden. She knew that could mean only one thing.

"The Queen has requested the child be brought to her. Immediately."

"Now? For what purpose?" Harwin's voice was demanding as he rose to his feet, a complete shift in his demeanour from only moments ago.

"I-I-" The handmaiden began to flounder, her eyes wide and fearful as she glanced between the commander and the princess.

"-it is fine." Viserra saved the handmaiden from her unpredictable fate.

"I will take him myself."

"You will do no such thing." Harwin snapped as Viserra began to push herself off the mattress. "You must rest."

"Your husband is right princess, you must stay in bed." One of the midwives agreed.

They were right, of course. Viserra wanted nothing more than to lay in bed with her husband and new son. But Queen Alicent Hightower had already ruined that perfect moment by sending her handmaiden in here. Just the mention of her name was poisonous enough to sour everything it touched.

The least Viserra could do now was ensure that she drip fed the Queen her own sweetly crafted poison while she met her grandson.

"Remove the cord and make sure the afterbirth has arrived. Then help me dress. Husband, you hold him."

Harwin eyed his wife for a few moments before nodding as he took his son once more. He knew his wife well enough to know that once she made her mind up, there was no changing it. Best to stand aside and let her run her course.

"It is done princess." One of the midwives announced after a few minutes.

Viserra gritted her teeth and wrapped a hand around one of the bedposts. She ground her teeth in an attempt to extinguish the grunt of pain she let out as she pulled herself off the bed and onto her feet.

"This is ridiculous." Harwin spat, his heart aching as he watched helplessly as his wife winced as the handmaidens cinched her dress around her waist.

"What could possibly be so urgent that she needs to see our son right away."

"I am sure the Queen has her very rationale reasons." Viserra drawled as the handmaidens stepped away from her.

"Let us just get this over with." She huffed as they opened the doors from their chambers.

"Run a bath for the princess for when she returns." Harwin murmured to one of the servants quietly so Viserra did not hear.

"Sister!" The sound of Rhaenyra's voice filled her ears the second they stepped into their main living quarters.

"A healthy boy, I heard." Viserra felt a smile form on her lips at the sight of her sister bounding towards her.

"Oh he is beautiful sister, congratulations." A rare true smile appeared on Rhaenyra's face as she stared down at her nephew.

"Thank you sister."

The smile was quick to fall from Rhaenyra's features when she noticed Harwin's grim features and the way her sister's smile did not meet her eyes.

Her brow narrowed when she watched her brother in law and sister begin to make their way towards the threshold of their quarters.

"What is wrong? Where are you going?"

"The Queen has requested to see him. Immediately." Harwin answered as they stepped into the hallway.

"She what?" Rhaenyra could hardly believe her ears as she walked alongside them.

"I know she did it with Joffrey but I never thought- she has gone too far. I cannot sit by and-"

"- you can and you will sister." Viserra cut her off, breathing deeply as pain rumbled through her.

"We will go and show her the child, let her feel powerful for a few moments. It might do her some good." Their voices were low as they made their way through the hallway. At a very slow pace at that given Viserra's state.

"I am coming with you."

"No." Viserra's voice was firm as she came to a stop to grab her sister's arm. "She will just find some way to villainize you or to get you to say something she can twist."

Rhaenyra's face morphed into one of sadness as she studied her sister.

"Let her torture us for a while." Viserra insisted.

"We can handle it." Harwin spoke, sending his sister in law a nod.

Rhaneyra glanced between them as she tried to reach a decision. She knew what the rationale one was. That her sister was right. As heir it was more strategic to leave it. But as Viserra's older sister, every part of her was screaming at her to march up those stairs and tear Allicent's hair from her scalp.

The look on Harwin's face was what made her decision for her. The look that said if anything happened to his wife, he would literally murder everything in sight. She knew her sister was safe with him.

"Fine." She relented. "But please try not to strain yourself too much sister." A hand reached up to gently brush Viserra's cheek.

"I will do my best." Viserra forced a small on her lips as she leant into her sister's touch.

With that Harwin and Viserra were on their way once more. Viserra let out a whimper as she clung to his arm. They had only made it a few metres when Harwin came to a stop.

"Alright that is it."

"Harwin what-"

"Hold him." Viserra opened her mouth in surprise as he passed their son into her arms.

"Harwin-" She let out a small yelp of surprise as he bent down and wrapped his hands under her back and legs and lifted her off the ground with ease.

She clung to their son as Harwin cradled her in his arms and began to march with a determined pace towards the Queen's chambers.

"Harwin-" She began for the third time.

"I will put you down before we go inside do not fret. We can let her think you scaled those steps on your own. But I am not letting my wife who just gave birth take another step if it can be avoided." He answered her as he passed by gaping onlookers without so much as a glance in their direction.

Her heart warmed at his words. She felt her anger subdue for a few moments as she studied her husband, with that look of loyal determination on his features. The face that she had fallen in love with as a teenager.

She remembered the day that he had taken up a position as a sworn protector of her family. The first time the pair locked eyes across the hall. The first time they spoke when he caught her trying to sneak out of the castle. The first time they unfurled their secrets to one another. The first time she took his hand and led him into her chambers.

While Rhaenyra was having her tryst with Criston Cole, Viserra was having hers with Harwin Strong.

But unlike her sister, Viserra did not have the weight of being their father's heir on her shoulders. Nor was her father as focused on marrying her off to the most politically strategic husband possible.

So when Viserra walked in one afternoon and informed her father that she was in love with Harwin Strong and was to wed him, what else was he to do but agree? He could never say no to his baby daughter, nor did he want to. He could see how in love she was and all he wished was for her to be happy. Besides, the rumours of their tryst and the ruining of her maidenhood had began to spread through the castle. This would quell those rumours.

It made sense politically too, given Harwin Strong was the son of the hand of the king and the heir to Harrenhal. It was the perfect strategic match for a second born daughter. That was how he had explained it to Alicent when she had questioned it anyway. Of course, that only deepened the queen's jealousy and resentment towards the Targaryen sisters.

Harwin came to a stop in front of the Queen's chambers. Viserra brought a hand up to caress his cheek.

"I love you husband."

"As I love you, wife." He answered, pressing a kiss to her palm as he gently placed her down on the ground. He captured her lips in a kiss. The usually frowned upon public display of affection caused the guards stationed at the door to divert their eyes.

"Give her hell." He whispered into her ear as the doors opened.

That she would.

Their son squirmed in her arms as they made their way inside. Neither spared Ser Criston Cole a glance as they passed him. Alicent was standing at the window, her back to them, her gaze fixed over the sea.

Viserra fought the urge to double over in pain as her insides burned. Her body was slick with sweat. Practically dripping from head to toe. Her blonde hair plastered to her face and back.

It was a comfort to her to know that even when she looked like this, Alicent's beauty would still never compare. A small comfort, perhaps a petulant one. But a comfort nonetheless.

"Viserra." Alicent's sickly sweet voice rung out through the cavernous room.

"What are you doing here? You should be resting after your labours." Her concern almost sounded sincere.

"I did not wish to disappoint you, your grace." Viserra answered as Harwin ushered her over to the couch.

"Oh yes, please sit." Alicent nodded, her dress swishing at her ankles as she made her way over to them.

She watched with intense eyes as Harwin guided his wife down to sit on the sofa. His gaze was so full of love and concern it almost made Alicent feel ill. Anger rippled through her as he placed a tender kiss to Viserra's forehead.

Such love, such intimacy. It was something that Alicent would never experience. At least Rhaenyra had to make some small sacrifices in the name of duty as heir. Viserra on the other hand did not even know the meaning.

Being the second born daughter meant the focus had always been off her. That she could run around and do as she pleased with no consequences. Alicent had known of her treacherous affair with the Strong boy, she had even gone to Viserys with the information. Yet nothing was done, she was brushed off once more. And after all that Viserra still got to wed the man that she loved.

"I cannot believe how long it has been since your last son was born. How old is Aemar now?"

"He will be six next month, your grace." Harwin answered her.

"Six." Alicent remarked. "Such a long space in between children."

"It was not for a lack of trying your grace." Viserra answered her as she raised a brow. "Believe me."

Harwin glanced down at his feet to hide his smirk as Alicent's mouth drew into a sharp line.

"Yes well, better late than never I suppose." She cleared her throat as she approached them.

"Let me meet him properly." It was a demand, not a question. Her arms extended expectantly. Viserra bit her tongue as she reluctantly handed the queen the small bundle in her arms.

"He was two weeks early I understand? Like his brother?"

"Ten days early, your grace."

Alicent let out a hum as she examined the child in her arms intently. "Do the maesters think it will impact him the way it has Aemar?"

Viserra could feel the fire beginning to build up inside her.

"I am not sure I understand, your grace." Harwin spoke for her, noting the way his wife's fists had curled up the material of the sofa.

"Well the boy is quite small for his age."

Criston Cole smirked in the corner.

"The maesters have assured us they are both strong and healthy. They do have Targaryen blood after all." Viserra answered, using every ounce of her strength to keep her voice calm.

"Unless you are questioning the quality of Targaryen blood, your grace. Which I am sure was not your intention."

Alicent looked up from the child, her eyes locking with Viserra's.

"Of course not. I suppose it would have to be the integrity of your husband's blood that caused such defects."

Silence fell over the room. It had been such an off handed remark. Said so casually and plainly for how great of an insult the words wielded.

Harwin and Viserra were no fools. They were aware of the Queen's suspicions around the lineage of Rhaenyra's three children. The rumours that they had been fathered by one of the knights in the city watch. They were true, of course. It was plain as day. The three boys had dark brown hair and pale skin. But nothing would extract that confession from Viserra.

It was only logical for Alicent to start questioning the lineage of Viserra's children too. If one sister was capable of adultry, why not the other? It did not help that Aemar had been born small and lean, particular in comparison to his father. But the maesters had assured Harwin and Viserra that he was merely a late bloomer, that he would grow into his build.

As Viserra stared at Alicent, she wondered how she had ever felt sympathy for her. Much less been her friend. She used to follow Rhaenyra and Alicent around wherever they went when she was a child. Hanging onto their every word like it was gospel.

Even after her father had announced his intention to wed Alicent, Viserra had still tried to be friends. She had seen how Otto Hightower had manoeuvred his daughter like a chess piece for his own gain. And she had felt sorry for her as she watched her churn out child after child, trapped in a loveless marriage.

But the moment she had started going after Rhaenyra, all hope was lost. And as the three women grew, Alicent's bitterness towards Rhaenyra spread to Viserra, entangling her up in her web of venom and lies and hatred.

There was no repairing the bond that had been broken.

"What did you say?" Harwin's voice was low, his eyes bright with rage.

He took a step towards her. The sound of Criston Cole's blade being unsheathed rang out behind them.

"Husband, relax." Viserra brought a hand up to grip his forearm.

She turned around in her seat and glared at Criston. "And sheath your blade Ser Criston, there is no need for such theatrics." She resisted the urge to smile at the sight of his glowering stare.

"The Queen did not mean any harm by her words." Her voice was scarily light and calm. She forced a chuckle up her throat and past her lips. Her face was the perfect portrait of calm.

She thought she might tear the Queen's head clean off her shoulders when she noticed Alicent's grip on her son tighten.

"You know that she is often left alone by father, sometimes he forgets to pass on things. Like what the maester's have told him about the health of his grandchildren."

Viserra could feel Harwin relax under her touch as she shot Alicent a smile.

"Right, your grace?"

If looks could kill, Viserra would be shredded into ribbons right now.

"Of course. I meant no offence." Alicent managed to force out, causing Viserra's grin to widen.

Viserra knew she should leave it at that. To not poke the beast. But Alicent's insult had ignited the flame within her. And once that flame was alight, it could not easily be extinguished.

"You know, you must get your boys to come meet their new nephew, your grace. Especially Aegon." Viserra spoke casually as Alicent handed her son back to her.

"Must I?"

"Oh yes. I mean with me as second heir and the birth of our son that would put Aegon now at... seventh in line?" Viserra feigned confusion as she glanced up at Harwin.

Harwin knew the nature of the game instantly.

"Eighth, my love. Counting our little nephew." Harwin responded, a smirk on his lips as he glared at the queen.

"Oh yes eighth of course, I almost forgot to count little Prince Joffrey. My mistake." Viserra chuckled.

"I know Aegon is not so... passionate about ruling as you or your father are, so I am sure that the knowledge he is now eighth in line would be most relieving for him to hear."

Viserra was not sure if she had ever seen Alicent so unhinged. Her bottom lip trembled and her face twitched as she stared at her step-daughter. Usually the perfect face of righteousness and dignity. The ever composed queen. She looked as if she might just step forward and scratch Viserra's eyes out.

"You dare-"

"What happy news this morning!"

Viserra felt her heart warm at the sight of her father making his way through the double doors. Viserys' eyes lit up at the sight of his daughter and his newest grandson.

"It appears your hunch was right Harwin, a healthy boy I have heard."

"Indeed your grace." Harwin smiled as Viserra extended out the bundle of cloth for him to take.

"Let me see my handsome grandson."

Alicent glared as she watched her husband take the child in his arms. He had never even looked that happy when holding their own children.

"Oh he is beautiful. He will make a strong knight I am sure." Viserys beamed as he rocked the babe gently.

"Has my grandson got a name yet?"

"We were thinking Edmyn." Viserra answered when Harwin glanced down at her questioningly.

A grin spread across his lips at the name. It was a traditional House Strong name. One that Viserra knew Harwin had been secretly dying for.

"Edmyn? That is an unusual Valyrian name." Alicent chimed in. Viserra had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

"Because it is not one. Aemar has a Valyrian name, I think it only fitting we also pay homage to the Strongs."

"I could not agree more daughter. Edmyn suits him. I am sure your father will be proud of it Harwin."

"Indeed he will your grace."

This time it was Alicent's turn to not roll her eyes.

"You know, I think I can see a bit of his grandmother in him." Viserys remarked, his voice cracking ever so slightly. Viserra could feel tears threatening to pool in her own eyes at the mention of her mother.

Harwin cleared his throat when he noticed his wife's state.

"If it is ok with you, your grace, your daughter has been more braver than I could ever be, I think she deserves to rest."

"Oh of course." Viserys smiled as he glanced down at his daughter. "I know how draining your labours can be."

"Thank you father." Viserra grimaced as Harwin helped her back up onto her feet.

"We are hoping to bare you a granddaughter next." She continued as she studied Alicent. "And we have already picked out the name."

She was more than happy to twist the knife in further.

"Aemma."

This time Alicent could not fight the eye roll at Viserra's words, turning her back as she did so.

A tear rolled down Viserys' cheek as he brought his hand up to caress his daughter's cheek.

"We can only hope the gods may be so kind." Viserys smiled as he embraced her in a tight hug.

"Now go rest with your husband and new child."

Viserra winced as she slipped into the hot tub. She withheld a moan as the warm water surrounded her, melting into her skin and bones.

"I am sorry if I bled on you."

Harwin let out a small chuckle and shook his head as he knelt down beside the tub.

"I have seen the worst that mankind has to offer, the type of violence that no one should see. You really think a little bit of blood is going to offend me?" He mused as he brought a damp cloth up to her forehead.

His gaze softened when she did not reply, watching as her eyes fluttered closed.

"You should not have had to go through that today." He murmured as he tenderly cleaned her.

"No." She conceded. "I should not have."

"You would not have to if we left King's Landing. If we travelled to Harrenhal and lived with my family."

"You know I cannot leave Rhaenyra. Not with these spiders circling her ever tighter. She is surrounded. I am all she has." Harwin withheld a sigh at her words.

They were expected, but disappointing none the less.

"I know."

No more was said as Harwin bathed her and helped her dress. He picked her up and carried her to their bed, placing her gently on the satin sheets.

She was asleep before her head hit the pillow. Harwin smiled softly as he watched her sleep, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Viserra stirred but did not wake at the sound of a soft knock on the door. Harwin spared her one last glance before he crept to the door. He was greeted by Rhaenyra Targaryen on the other side.

"Is Viserra asleep?"

"She has had a long day." He answered quietly.

Rhaenyra merely nodded in understanding, her face tight with worry as she glanced over Harwin's shoulder.

"She will tell you all tomorrow, I am sure." He assured the princess.

"Was it bad?"

"Quite. Alicent grows more venomous each day." Harwin answered.

"I thought Viserra would be spared given she is not first heir."

"It appears that her resentment has spread to encompass your sister too, princess." Harwin could not hide the anger in his voice as he spoke. He hated feeling so helpless, like there was nothing he could do to protect his wife.

"You should leave, you do not have to stay here. Both of you and the boys should go to Harrenhal. Be spared from this torture." Rhaenyra whispered, desperation evident in her voice.

"You and I both know that Viserra will never leave you alone here."

Rhaenyra sighed and nodded in agreement. "I wish I had not taught her to be so stubborn."

A sad smile spread across Harwin's lips.

"As do I."

Harwin squinted as the sunlight hit his eyes. He stepped out into the training courtyard. The sound of wooden swords hitting sacks filled with barley filled his ears. The grunts of young boys exerting themselves as they practiced.

He glanced up to see Viserys watching from above. He gave him a nod and a smile in greeting. His eyes scanned the yard, counting four of his nephews. He was quick to spot his son. The smallest of the five children. And the only one skulking about in the corner.

A smile spread across his lips as he watched the way Aemar's eyes brightened at the sight of him. Aemar dropped his sword without a second thought and raced towards him, weaving between the other boys to reach him.

Harwin let out a small chuckle as Aemar smashed into his leg, wrapping his thin limbs around his thigh to cling to him.

"Is it supper time father? Is training over?" His son asked as he peered up at him through his thick head of dark hair.

"Not quite yet. I just came to see how you were getting along."

"Oh." Aemar's smile was quick to fall. He watched as his father crouched down to meet his eyes.

"Maybe I can finish training early today? Could you ask mother?"

"Your mother is sleeping with your brother. She is quite tired."

"Oh no do not disturb her then, mother deserves as much rest as she can have." Aemar's brow knitted together as concern flashed across his features.

Harwin smiled softly as he ran a hand through his son's hair. He had always been so considerate and kind of others. Something that worried Harwin slightly. That kind of compassion was a weakness here.

"How has your training been going?" Harwin's eyes drifted over to Criston to see Criston's gaze already locked onto his.

Aemar glanced down at his feet. "Fine."

A lie.

Harwin could see Criston speaking to Alicent's boys, Rhaenyra's children left to practice on their own. He had a feeling his son was being given the same treatment.

"Go on then, I will watch you train and then we can go get something to eat." Harwin shot his son a warm smile and patted him on the shoulder.

Aemar, never one to disappoint his parents, dutifully nodded before scurrying back to the centre of the yard.

Harwin rose to his full height and paced around the edge of the square. He could feel Criston's eyes on him as he walked but chose to ignore it as he watched the boys begin to spar.

Criston and Harwin were similar, some would say. Both knights, protectors of the royal family. Both had fallen in love with a Targaryen princess. Both had disgraced their sacred vows to bed them.

The difference between Criston and Harwin was that Harwin's infatuation was not one sided. A difference that both were acutely aware of.

Harwin had always found Criston's jealousy quite pathetic. And initially quite humorous. That was until Ser Criston had started taking out his anger on Viserra and Rhaenyra's children.

"Come on Aemar, weapons up." He encouraged when he saw his son hesitantly go to pick up his sword.

His small fingers had nearly reached the hilt when Criston's boot stepped on it, crushing it as he brushed past Aemar to speak to Aegon.

"It seems some of your younger pupils could do with a bit more attention, Ser Criston." Harwin could not control his tongue any longer. If he did not say something, it would be his fists that would talk instead.

"You question my method of instruction?" Criston answered him.

"No, I merely suggest that method be applied to all your pupils."

"With all due respect Ser, I doubt you can have an impartial stance on the matter."

Harwin barked out a humourless laugh as he locked eyes with him. "Humour me."

Criston eyed him for a few moments before an unreadable expression crossed his features.

"Very well. Aemar, you spar with Aegon."

Harwin gritted his teeth as he watched Criston grip his son's armour and yank him into the centre of the field.

"That is hardly a fair match."

Indeed, Aegon was at least twice his son's size and weight and even in age. Aegon, being the spoilt cunt that he was, seemed delighted at the opportunity to crush a weaker opponent.

"When steal is drawn a fair match isn't something anyone should expect."

Harwin glanced up at the viewing balcony at the king and his father. Neither seemed willing to say a word.

"Blades up." Criston continued.

Harwin could see Aemar was shaking, even from where he was standing. His son was not a fighter, at least not yet. He was small and skinny and his temperament was the most gentle he had seen. He may grow into one yet, but Harwin was certain that this type of combat would not help him get there.

Aemar glanced at his father, his eyes pleading as he shakily rose his sword up in front of his chest.

"Engage."

Aegon let out an unhinged scream as he hurtled himself at Aemar. Harwin was too far away to stop him from hitting Aemar across the face and pushing him down. Harwin reached him as Aegon raised his sword to bring it down onto Aemar's chest.

Harwin lunged forward and grabbed the older prince by the scruff of the neck. Aegon let out a scream of frustration, thrashing around against Harwin as he tried to attack his younger nephew.

"Aegon!" The King finally let out a weak reprimand from above.

Harwin simply shoved him away, sending him stumbling into Ser Criston.

Rhaenyra's children ran to crowd around Aemar who was still on his back. They were murmuring comforting and encouraging things to him as Harwin reached them.

"Son, are you all right?" Harwin crouched down, his heart hammering in his chest as he brought his son up to sit.

The wood had drawn blood, a small slice across Aemar's smooth cheek. It was still enough to make Harwin see red.

"I am ok father." Aemar's small voice wavered, his chin wobbling as he tried to keep a brave face.

"I am confused Ser Harwin. You wish for me to treat your son equally and yet intervene within mere seconds."

Harwin's jaw clenched at the sound of Criston's mocking voice behind him. Harwin rose to his full height, his fists bunched at his sides as he turned to glare at Cole.

"The prince could have been seriously hurt. That match up was not safe."

Criston let out a small chuckle as Harwin turned around once more to pay attention to his son. He needed to quell his anger before he could no longer contain it and did something regrettable.

"I am sorry you feel that match was not fair, Strong." Cole spoke as he eyed Harwin.

"But I am afraid due to your son's.... stature... none of his nephew's would be a fair match." Harwin glanced down at his son who's head hung in shame at Ser Criston's words.

He could hear Aegon and Aemond sniggering behind him.

"Perhaps I could ask one of the handmaiden's to volunteer. Or your new son. They are probably equal in strength."

The snap of broken bone hung in the air.

Criston stumbled back as blood began to leak from his nose. Harwin let out an animalistic growl as he knocked him to his feet and launched himself on top of him. He landed punch after punch, screaming as he let out his rage.

"Say it again! Speak that way about my son again!" He shouted as arms wrapped around him and forced him off the knight.

Criston's body was limp, his head lolling back as blood poured from his nose.

"You talk about him like that again and I will fucking kill you, do you hear me!" He bellowed as other knights dragged him away.

Viserys and Lionel watched from above, their faces grim as they watched the scene unfold.

"So much for that pleasant afternoon." Viserys sighed.

"I heard it took four knights to pull you off him."

Harwin winced as Viserra pressed an ointment into his blistering knuckles.

"I was a bit too preoccupied to count."

Amusement flashed across her features as she rubbed the ointment in gently.

"I wish I was there to witness it, would have got me all hot and bothered."

Harwin shook his head, trying to fight the smile on his face as he glanced up at his wife.

"What? It taking four knights pulling me off him, or watching Ser Criston being beat into a pulp."

"Can a woman not find both equally arousing?" She teased him as she placed the ointment on the table beside the bed.

She withheld a sigh when she watched the smile seep from his face. His eyes glazing over as he thought about today's events. She leant forward and captured his lips in a gentle kiss.

"You did nothing wrong, my love." She mumbled against his lips as she pressed their foreheads together. "

Cole should not have dared insult a prince like that. All the boys heard him say it, he has no way to talk himself out of it. He will be punished. I will see to it that you are not. You were just protecting your son." Viserra's voice was thick with emotion as she spoke, anger furling up inside her at the memory of her husband relaying the words that Cole had said to their son.

She could not think about it for to long. Or think about the small cut on Aemar's cheek that she touched when she kissed him goodnight. It made her sick with rage. Angry enough to burn the entire castle to the ground.

"I still should not have lost my temper. Not in front of Aemar. It sets a bad example." He mumbled as he glanced down at his bruised knuckles.

"It might have frightened him."

Viserra's gaze softened at her husband's words. She ran a hand through his thick hair before using her index finger to tilt his chin up and force him to meet her eyes.

"Aemar adores you. He could never be frightened of you. He knows that you would only act like that if our family was in danger."

Harwin smiled as Viserra leant forward to kiss her husband's forehead.

"I do not know what I would do without you." He mumbled against her skin as he embraced her in a tight hug and buried his head into her chest.

"Nor I you." She whispered to him as she let him cling to her, engulfing her frame as she wrapped her arms around him.

It was in that moment that Viserra's mind wandered back to the conversation they had yesterday when she was taking her bath. About leaving King's Landing. And for the first time, she felt herself seriously considering it.

A knock at the door made both of them pull apart. They exchanged glances before turning their attention to the entrance.

"Enter." Viserra called.

"Rhaenyra." Her sister's name slipped through her lips at the sight of her.

"Sister, Ser Harwin." Rhaenyra inclined her head as they both rose to their feet to greet her.

"What brings you here at such a late hour?" Viserra's brow knitted together as she studied her sister.

"I came to tell you." Rhaenyra swallowed as her eyes darted between them.

"My family and I are leaving. Tomorrow."

Viserra's lips parted in surprise, her eyes darting to Harwin before turning back to her sister.

"To Dragonstone?"

"I should have left years ago." Rhaenyra nodded.

"But what of your position. If that bloodsucking queen has father all to herself-"

"-I have been made a spectacle of sister." Rhaenyra snapped, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "They whisper about me in the corridors. I wish to leave them to it."

Rhaenyra sniffled as she held back her tears, her eyes moving from her sister to Harwin who was studying her warily.

"After the events of yesterday and today, I cannot stay here any longer. You and your family have been tarred with the same brush. I cannot let you be tried and punished for the crimes Alicent believes me to have committed."

"Sister." Viserra breathed out as she stepped forward to take her sister's hands in her own.

"I beg of you, do not do this for my benefit. We are on your side, in your corner. We can batter this storm."

Rhaenyra shook her head and squeezed her sister's hands tightly. "I know sister, I know. But this is a storm that we should flee from." She locked eyes with Harwin's once more.

"And I am not doing this for my benefit, I am doing it for both of our families."

Harwin came to stand beside Viserra as she released her sister's hands, confusion contorting on her features.

"Come with us." Rhaenyra continued as she glanced between the couple.

"We can be a family. Our boys can do as they like, play and train without us having to fear what Criston Cole might do to them."

Viserra dragged her eyes from Rhaenyra up to Harwin's. He was already staring down at her, his face muscles taught. In that moment, it was just the two of them together as they studied eachother.

"Your father-"

"My father does not matter." Harwin cut her off. "Our family is what matters. You know I have always championed us to leave this place."

"I cannot ask you to do this." She whispered, her voice wavering as she spoke.

"I go wherever you go. I would follow you to the end of the earth my love." He murmured back, squeezing her hand tightly.

"It would be nice to give birth and stay in bed for longer than thirty seconds." She murmured after a few moments. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he nodded in agreement.

"Indeed."

For once Rhaenyra was unable to hold back her tears as she watched her baby sister and her husband.

"To Dragonstone then?"

The couple turned to her at her words. "To Dragonstone." Harwin agreed, squeezing his wife's hand once more.

"Maybe you can beat up Cole once more before we go. Just so Viserra and I can have a fond memory of this place to look back on."

A grin spread across Harwin's lips as Viserra chuckled beside him.

"That can be arranged."

I adore this fic and the little family I have created hehehe <3 p.s totally canon that Viserra and Harwin have a girl called Aemma. As always, feedback would be super super appreciated and you can give it back HERE!

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theforgottenmcrmy · 2 years

Text

Captivated (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

***please note that this is a sequel to “Safety”, which can be read HERE. Reading Safety before reading this is not necessary, but doing so will provide additional context for this story***

***please note that this now has a sequel, “Storms”, which can be read HERE.

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, references to an ill parent, spoilers for House of the Dragon

Word Count: 6,000 ish.

Summary: While serving as Princess Rhaenyra’s lady in waiting, you’ve been granted ample time to become well-acquainted with the man they call Breakbones. The Princess’ recent tours of Westeros in search of a befitting King Consort have only allowed the two of you to grow closer, and now you’re completely taken with Ser Harwin Strong. But the Princess’ recent tour to the Riverlands, in addition to some troubling news from home concerning the health of your father, Lord Tyrell, have left you feeling discouraged. You’ve begun to fear your affections for the strongest knight in all the Seven Kingdoms may not be returned. Perhaps a surprise visitor from Highgarden will clear things up...

A/N: Y’all... I am FLOORED. Absolutely shooketh. Nothing I have written has ever received such an overwhelming response. Thank you all so much to everyone who liked, commented, and reblogged Safety. I appreciate each and every one of you so very much. I am not sure how many parts this series will get, but the ending of this one pretty clearly sets up a part 3... so let me know if that’s something you’d like to see. Please see the A/N at the ending of this chapter for notes regarding the taglist. Thank you all again. I hope you have a wonderful rest of the week! 🖤 PS: this is a Criston Cole hate account. #sorrynotsorry.

I really hope the tags work and I won’t have to post this twice.🥲 Please forgive me if I do.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Princess Rhaenyra smiled warmly at the small child, as did you. The little girl humbly accepted the half a loaf of bread from the Princess’ hands.

You and the Princess were currently in the heart of King’s Landing, inside one of the city orphanages. The harvest that year was already proving to be bountiful, almost entirely in part to the good people who worked the lands of your home. It seemed that there was plenty of food to go around those days, and you were grateful that the Princess and the King were of the mind that it ought not to be wasted.

Back in the Reach, you and your brother had often done the same- you’d visited all of the orphanages and sick homes in Oldtown and even The Arbor at one point or another. Your father has instilled the concept of giving back to those in need very early on in your lives, as your grandmother had instilled the same in him.

You had mentioned this in passing to Princess Rhaenyra one day, when she was still becoming acquainted with you. Once she’d heard of it, she declared it to be a worthwhile endeavor, and adopted something similar as part of her own regular routine. As such, she had made it a point to visit a new place in need throughout the city each week.

While it warmed your heart to help those less fortunate than yourself, especially the parentless children, you were happy that the Princess had decided to become more hands-on with her charitable works for other reasons. You were no fool- you knew how positively the common folk viewed noble men and women who showed them sympathy and kindness.

As lady in waiting to the future Queen, you knew it would be in Princess Rhaenyra’s best interest to win the hearts of the people as soon as possible. Dark plots were actively working against Princess Rhaenyra already, and the more political tools she equipped herself with, the better she’d fare in any future struggle for power.

While you had fully supported the Princess’ recent charitable endeavors, as did King Viserys, others from Court were less than thrilled with the idea. Queen Alicent had voiced some concern, as did Ser Criston Cole. He had deemed it too dangerous.

Even now, the Dornish knight was visibly sweating from across the room. From what the Princess had told you personally, and from what you had heard from others, Ser Criston Cole had experienced many battles, and lived to tell the tale of them all. And yet, in a simple orphanage within King’s Landing, he appeared to be visibly sweating and his eyes shifted across the room madly. His nervousness on behalf of the Princess’ safety had to have occupied his every thought.

Standing beside him, and much more relaxed in composure, was Ser Harwin Strong.

In your time at Court, Ser Harwin Strong had become a member of the City Watch. As a result, he’d become quite familiar with the inner workings of the city, and was comfortable walking amongst the streets. Ser Harwin had proven himself to be an asset for the Princess’ repeated journeys out into the city. Being out in the heart of the city didn’t appear to scare him or cause him any serious cause for concern. But you doubted anything would.

Unlike the panicked eyes of Ser Criston, Ser Harwin’s gentle eyes watched over you and the Princess carefully as you interacted with the children bouncing with excitement around you. You caught him staring at you as you continued to distribute bread, but forced yourself not to think too much of it.

Eventually, it was time to return the Red Keep. You could have sworn you’d never seen Ser Criston look so relieved- though perhaps that would only be true until the Princess’ next escapade concluded. He and Ser Harwin scouted the entrance to the orphanage to make sure there was no sign of danger while you and Princess Rahenyra bid the children goodbye with promises to return in a few weeks.

You made your way out of the dwelling to where the carriage, along with the rest of the guards who had been recruited to comprise the escort, was waiting for the two of you. Princess Rhaenyra climbed in first. You were quick to follow, but were temporarily paused when someone politely offered you an arm for assistance.

It was Ser Harwin.

“My Lady,” he said, bowing his head downwards towards his extended arm.

Despite yourself, you smiled at him as a sign of your gratitude, and hopped up and inside the carriage with his assistance. Once you and Princess Rhaenyra were both seated inside, the carriage was lifted up and off the ground, beginning the return back to the Red Keep. Ser Criston and Ser Harwin, one of them on either side of the carriage, kept vigilant eyes on your surroundings as the entourage moved through the streets. You caught glimpses of the two knights every now and then through the grated windows near the top of the carriage.

“I cannot tell you how relieved I am to be back,” Princess Rhaenyra sighed after a moment. She leant back against the wall of the carriage, and settled down further in her seat.

From your seat across from her, you offered her a small smile. “I recall the feeling of returning home after a long journey very well, Your Grace. I dare say that there is little else that compares.”

Princess Rhaenyra laughed shortly, but you knew she meant no offense. “Though I dare say the feeling of being out of the clutches of power-hungry suitors to be a far better one than that which you have described.”

You stifled a laugh, knowing your involuntary response would be frowned upon by most others at Court. However, none would be more displeased to hear of it than King Viserys, who had through painstakingly great lengths to arrange the tour of the Seven Kingdoms. It was all organized in the hope that his daughter might find a suitor worthy of both her heart and the title of King Consort.

Unfortunately, the tour had proven to be unsuccessful thus far. Princess Rhaenyra had visited the Reach, the Westerlands, and the Riverlands, and not a single notable contender had emerged- at least not in the eyes of Rhaenyra. She had claimed the majority of the hopefuls who had paid her visit to be either far too old, or far too young. She noted that the rest of them had been about as “insufferable” as their power hungry father and grandfathers, who had watched the proceedings with greedy eyes.

You had only received second hand accounts of the events, and largely from the Princess’ sole perspective. While it would have been expected of you to attend Princess Rhaenyra throughout her travels, she had taken her junior ladies in waiting with her for assistance instead. Meanwhile, she had tasked you with what she deemed to be far more important.

Princess Rhaenyra had asked you to stay behind, in King's Landing, to see to her personal affairs. It had been difficult to accept at first, even more so when the Princess went to visit the Reach. But you trusted and respected her opinion that you would be more of use to her elsewhere. While there would always be secretarial duties to attend to, and charitable functions to plan, the main reason the Princess had asked you to stay behind was for reconnaissance purposes.

Foul whispers about the Princess were abound, and they only grew more troubling in her absence. But with you, an obvious ally and devout supporter of the future Queen, roaming around the Red Keep in her stead, the whispers were more timid, and their perpetrators were kept at bay. Any rumors that still managed to reach your ears were immediately reported to Princess Rhaenyra upon her return.

“At least the Riverlands were quite remarkable,” Princess Rhaenyra noted positively, changing the subject. She gazed out the window, as if recalling a scene from her memory. “Even though they are named for such, I was truly amazed at the sheer amount of rivers we came across.”

You smiled at her enthusiasm.

“Have you ever been? To the Riverlands?”

“I’m afraid I have not had the pleasure, Your Grace.”

“We must change that then,” the Princess insisted, giving you a conspiring smile.

“Do you intend to return to the Riverlands soon?” you asked, with sincere interest. “Has one of the suitors finally caught your attention?”

Princess Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, a gesture that most would deem extremely unladylike. However, you knew it to be a common occurrence for her, and had grown quite accustomed to it. Her boldness was appealing, and refreshing amongst the other “highly-refined” ladies at Court. She had thick skin, and never hesitated to speak her mind; you knew that both qualities would serve her well as future Queen.

“Don’t sound too eager, Lady Y/N,” she chided playfully. “Lord Tully was a gracious host, of course. But unfortunately, all of the gentlemen callers were just the same. Too old, too young, or too-”

“-Insufferable,” you finished for her, having heard her same speech twice before.

Princess Rhaenyra laughed. “Precisely.”

In your time in service to the Princess, you had come to be quite close. You considered her a friend, and could only hope that she considered you to be the same. On bolder days, you might have contemplated whether Queen Alicent’s marriage to her father had left the young woman in search of some companionship. If there was a void in that area of her life, you were happy to fill it. You missed her when she was gone on her travels… But perhaps you missed one of her most recent traveling companions even more.

“It was not entirely a waste, I suppose,” Princess Rhaenyra admitted then, her tone shifting once more. “Ser Harwin Strong is far from terrible company.”

Immediately, you glanced at the carriage windows with worry. Was it possible that the very man in question was able to overhear you now? The streets were alive with people, but if Ser Harwin was walking right alongside the carriage…

However, Princess Rhaenyra did not seem deterred. In fact, noticing your apprehension only encouraged her more. She leaned forward in her seat, and said, “We had many great conversations, Ser Harwin and I.”

You forced yourself to smile, torn between the comradery and duty you felt for the princess, and the aching pain you felt in your heart.

“I can tell you all about our conversations, if you’d like,” Princess Rhaenyra offered, clearly, but thankfully, oblivious to your inner struggle. “I believe you’ll find them to be very interesting.”

Normally, you would readily indulge in some harmless gossip with her. But now, you loathed the thought of what she might tell you. “If it is your wish to share such details, Your Grace.”

The Princess finally noticed that something was amiss. She sat back in her seat, and gave you a befuddled look. “Is everything alright, Y/N?” she questioned. “You’ve been very quiet these past few days…”

You’d always prided yourself on your ability to be honest with the Princess. But at that moment, you could not compel yourself to tell her the entire truth. So, you settled for a half-truth, and opted to share with her one of the two things that hung very heavy over your head as of late.

“My father has taken ill,” you admit, lowering your voice so as not to be overheard by anyone outside of the carriage. “I received a letter from my brother just a few days past”

Princess Rhaenyra’s confused expression shifted to one of sympathy.

“The Maesters say he should pull through,” you continued, “But I am worried.”

The Princess had never been anything less than kind to you, but still, you could not have anticipated her next move. She reached across the carriage and placed a soothing hand overtop of your own, which you hadn’t realized you’d wrung together in your concern.

“My father has always described Lord Larris as a strong man,” she assured you full-heartedly. “I trust the gods will see to it that he recovers fully and swiftly.”

You were touched by her gesture. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Should you desire to go visit him, I will agree to it at once.”

“I will keep that in mind, Princess.”

Later that evening, once the Princess had retired, you made your way from her chambers towards your own. Though the hallways of the Red Keep were seldom unoccupied, save the guards keeping watch, they certainly appeared to be that night.

It was unfortunate that the one person you encountered was the one man that, for once, you hoped not to see.

“Ser Harwin.”

The knight paused in his tracks, and bowed his head graciously in greeting. “Lady Y/N.”

“It is a good evening, is it not?”

“It is,” he agreed, smiling softly. “And, seeing as I have been fortunate enough to speak with you, it stands to improve even more.”

Despite your reservations, you blushed.

The relationship between yourself and Ser Harwin Strong, much like your relationship with Princess Rhaenyra, had grown tremendously during your time at Court. And, it had blossomed even as of late. While the Princess had tasked you with seeing to matters in King’s Landing while she went on her tours of Westeros, there were times when you had seen to everything that needed to be done, and as a result, you sought company instead. More often than not, that company had been found in Ser Harwin. Though he had his own duties to see to as a member of the City Watch, he’d never failed to make time for you.

At first, it started off with polite conversation occurring throughout strolls throughout the castle gardens and surrounding grounds. Princess Rhaenyra was correct in her insinuation earlier in the day- despite the bruteish nickname he bore, Ser Harwin was more than a decent conversationalist. The topics were light hearted, but any conversation with him sent your heart racing anyway.

Eventually, you began to share meals together on occasion. Deeper conversations occurred during those times. You’d come to discover that you and Ser Harwin had much more in common than either of you realized. You were both very close to your families. You had each lost your mothers at a young age, but both of you had good relationships with your fathers, and absolutely adored your siblings. He had enamored you with tales of the haunted halls of Harrenhal, and in exchange, you had told him all about the gardens of Highgarden and seasonal festivals that the Reach boasted.

Most recently, the two of you, along with a small party composed of his brother, two sisters, and another few members of the Court, had gone for a few days’ hunt in the Kingswood. You hadn’t lucked out on the hunt like some of the others had, but it was a thrilling experience nonetheless.

The hunt had led Ser Harwin to discover your familiarity with a bow. Though perhaps it was not very lady-like, your father had taught you how to shoot at a young age, deciding that it had the potential to be a unique party trick, at the very least. Your hobby had never been put to use by targeting live animals, but rather, stationary or inanimate objects thrown up into the air. For you, it had never been about the hunt, just the sport of it all.

As soon as you explained as much to Ser Harwin, he requested you to demonstrate your skills. You attempted to politely decline, but upon seeing a disappointed glint in his eyes, you changed your mind. A small crowd had assembled for the showdown between you and Ser Harwin one afternoon. His sisters, surprisingly, cheered for your victory instead of their older brother’s. You found it to be amusing, but oddly touching. Ser Harwin took it in stride, and merely jested about the familial betrayal.

At the end of the shooting rounds, you emerged as the winner, but by only a narrow margin. Ser Harwin could not be faulted; it was well known he was far more talented with a sword than bow, anyway.

Part of you feared Ser Harwin’s reaction, worried that his displeasure would put a strain on your growing relationship. But he had surprised you- as he often did.

“Any boy can denounce a loss as unfair, or even simply blame the wind for a poor shot,” he’d said, grinning ear to ear as he plucked one of your arrows from the bullseye of a target, and handed it back to you gracefully. “It takes a man to be willing to admit defeat to the truly better aim, regardless of who that victor may be.”

Ser Harwin Strong was a flatterer, through and through.

You raised your head to look him fully straight on. Speaking in such close proximity to Ser Harwin always made you recall just how massive he was. Your chin was practically tilted upwards, and his head was bowed down to regard you.

“I apologize that we have not been able to speak much before now,” Ser Harwin said, sounding and looking completely sincere.

“Your apologies are not necessary, My Lord. I am sure you’ve had a great deal of things to attend to, especially after having been gone these past few weeks.”

As was expected, Ser Harwin had traveled with Princess Rhaenyra during her tour of the Riverlands- his home. You had no doubt he had presented himself to her as a potential suitor in Lord Tully’s halls, along with dozens of other vying contenders. As the oldest son of Lord Lyonel, and Heir to Harrenhal, you knew Ser Harwin had every right to offer the Princess his hand. In fact, his failure to do so might have even been considered a slight against the crown- one that his father, the current Master of Laws, would not have likely been able to afford.

But you dreaded the day when news would reach your ears of Ser Harwin Strong’s betrothal. Between his title, strength, and handsomeness, it was a downright wonder why a match had not been made for him yet. You knew it was only a matter of time… and while you had come to cultivate deep feelings for the knight, Princess Rhaenyra would be a far better match for him.

Since their return from the Riverlands, you noticed more and more frequent looks exchanged between the two of them. Knowing looks. It was apparent to you that Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Harwsin held information that you were not privy to. And you had a sinking feeling as to what it was.

An announcement had yet to be made, but Rhaenyra had yet to complete her tour. She was off to the Stormlands the following week. And yet, it was likely all for show. She had to be fair and allow other potential suitors to believe they still stood a chance for her hand- when clearly they did not.

Princess Rhaenyra must have chosen Ser Harwin Strong.

The Realm’s Delight and Breakbones? They made a better pair than one would think. She was a dragon, and he was a fearsome warrior. Her mental ingenuity would only be supported by his brute force of strength. Together, they would take down enemies to her claim one by one. They would want or need for nothing- and neither would their children.

And you, you would resign yourself to your place. Despite being the daughter of Lord Tyrell, you could never hope to compete with the Princess of Westeros for a suitor’s hand. And you never would. You had sworn her your allegiance… your true heart’s desire be damned.

“How were your travels, My Lord?”

“A bit tiring, if I may speak plainly,” he replied carefully. Even you had to admit that he sounded fatigued. “But it was necessary, which has made it easier to bear.”

I suppose winning the heart of the future Queen of Westeros made the trip worthwhile as well, you couldn’t help but think to yourself. “I am glad to hear that, My Lord.”

Ser Harwin reached a hand up to smooth through his brown locks, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. You realized with slight shock that he was demonstrating an emotion you had yet to see him display in all the time you’d known him- Ser Harwin was nervous.

“Are you well, Ser Harwin?” you questioned, not caring at all about the concern which was evident in your voice.

Ser Harwin’s gaze softened even more. Your concern had moved him. “All is well, Lady Y/N…” He cleared his throat, before his eyes fell to the floor. “Or, rather, there are no physical ailments burdening me…”

On one hand, you were taken aback by the foreignness of it all. This large man looked as nervous and shy as some of the children you had visited that same morning. On the other hand, it was slightly endearing to learn that a man with the nickname Breakbones was not able to escape the burden of emotions that plagued everyone else. He was just as capable of being human as those two, even three times less his size.

Before you mentally dared to compare him to a gentle giant, Ser Harwin continued.

“I had some… rather enlightening conversations with Princess Rhaenyra during our travels,” he admitted, the nerves he physically displayed betraying his voice ever so slightly as well. “The conversations opened my eyes to a truth that I have denied for quite some time.”

You were surprised to hear that he had not been taken with Princess Rhaenyra upon first sight- most men were. But yet again, Ser Harwin was not like most men.

“I was hoping to discuss this further with you,” Ser Harwin confessed. He looked you straight on, and you couldn’t tear your eyes from his for a moment, even if you had wanted to. “Somewhere more private?”

There was a hopeful glint in his hazel eyes, but the thought of advising him on matters pertaining to keeping the Princess’ interest made you feel suddenly ill.

“Perhaps we could dine together in a few days?” he suggested then, his nerves amplified by your lack of immediate response. “Or, maybe we could take a walk in the gardens?”

You almost caved right then and there. Almost. Ser Harwin knew how much you liked walking through the castle gardens. Even though they paled in comparison to those of Highgarden, they still reminded you of home, and walking along the paths lined with various greenery and floral displays brought you comfort.

“I shall have to see, My Lord,” you replied, even though it practically pained you to not immediately agree. “The Princess has given me leave to visit my father, and I am inclined to take her offer.”

Instead of looking disappointed, Ser Harwin gave you a look of pure guilt.

“My sincerest apologies, My Lady,” he said. “... I may have inadvertently heard about the news of your father. While I did not mean to overhear you, I heard the Princess speak my name this afternoon, while the escort was on the way back to the Red Keep… I feared she required something of me. By the time I realized that I was not needed, I fear I may have heard too much.”

It was nice to have confirmation that the walls of the carriage were not very thick, if only for future reference. Part of you felt embarrassed by the fact that Ser Harwin had overheard your personal matter, but the other part felt relieved that the knowledge that had clouded your mind over the past few days had been made known to one of the few individuals you trusted in King’s Landing. And seeing as Ser Harwin looked and sounded as guilty as he admitted to be, you could not find it in yourself to be cross with him.

“Your apologies are not necessary, My Lord.”

“I wish Lord Tyrell a quick recovery,” he confided to you. “And, should you leave for Highgarden, I wish you safe travels.”

You smiled graciously. “Thank you, Ser Harwin. Should I see him, I shall pass your well wishes along to my father.”

It was Ser Harwin’s turn to smile then. But after a few moments, nervousness seeped into his composure once again. Though he was more soft-spoken than you had once imagined him to be, his next words were said so softly, that had you not been alone in the corridor, with only a few inches between yourselves, you might not have heard them at all.

“Should you decide to leave, Lady Y/N… I fear I will find myself counting down the days until I am in your company once more.”

… This man. This man was going to rip out your heart, tear it into pieces, toss it on the ground, and stomp on it through his impending marriage to the Princess you served dutifully. You knew you had to begin to prepare yourself to suffer through it… But you would also take any attention and warm sentiments that Ser Harwin Strong would grant you in the meantime.

The memories of his kindness that he had shown you would have to be enough to get you through the pain you were sure to endure.

Despite the forwardness of Ser Harwin’s words, what was more alarming was the stark seriousness of his expression. He meant every word of what he had just said, and you believed it fully. Still, you would have to be daft to decry him now just for the sake of proprietary.

“I must admit… I shall miss you too, My Lord.”

By the end of the following week, Princess Rhaenyra was off on her tour of the Stormlands, with Ser Criston Cole glady serving as one of her escorts.

You had seen Ser Harwin in passing since the night you last spoke, but you did not make any further meaningful conversation with him. Though you missed your talks, you reasoned it was better for your heart to start putting some distance between the two of you now, before his marriage to Princess Rhaenyra would place you worlds apart.

You had seen to all the tasks that Princess Rhaenyra had left you with, and had begun to pack and ready the rest of your things. The plan was to embark on the trek back to Highgarden within a day or two.

But your plan was cut short when a messenger knocked on the door to your chambers. You had a visitor, and they were waiting for you in the courtyard of the Red Keep.

You hurried to the courtyard with moderate speed. It was seldom you had visitors- a cousin had visited once, a few weeks back. But besides that, no one had yet to pay you a visit. Many visitors to the Red Keep had it in mind to speak with many, many others besides the likes of you.

But when you entered the courtyard, you noticed the small entourage that had just arrived. No carriage in sight- just several men and their steeds. But that didn’t mean the visitor was from a place nearby. When your eyes fell upon a lean figure donned in the familiar colors of your House, you beamed brightly, knowing that without a doubt, this visitor was truly one for you.

“Brother?”

Your brother, Derron Tyrell, the Heir to Highgarden, turned to face you upon your call. When he saw you, he grinned. “Sister!”

You crossed the courtyard in large strides and practically leapt into Derron’s arms. Your brother caught you and returned your familial embrace with ease.

“I have missed you!” you told him hurriedly, pulling away to look at him. Even though it had only been a few months, going on a year at most, since you had seen him last, it had felt like far longer. But Derron looked the same as he always had, and it brought you joy to see him in good health.

“And I you, Y/N,” Derron replied, his smile still as bright as your own.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing here?” you demanded of him in a hushed whisper, your arms falling back down to your sides. Suddenly, a terrible thought entered your mind. “Did I miss a raven? Is father-”

“Father is alive,” your brother was quick to assure you. “And you did not miss a raven, for there was none sent to you.”

You let out a sigh of relief.

Derron looked at his entourage surrounding him. Though you recognized most of them as bannermen with whom he had rode and fought beside for years, you could tell that your brother was wary of their presence at this particular moment.

“Come now, Sister- we have much to discuss.”

It seemed that someone, although not you, had been expecting Derron Tyrell to arrive in King’s Landing. Chambers had already been set aside for him and his men, and he’d even been given a special audience with the King later in the week to discuss ongoing matters in the Reach.

Later that day, once your brother was settled in his chambers and unpacked, you met with him. You were eager to learn of the cause of his surprise visit, and to privately discuss what he had referred to in the courtyard.

The pair of you were seated at a table on the balcony connected to his chambers. As Derron poured you a glass of wine, before pouring one for himself, you asked him the question that had been on the forefront of your mind since his arrival.

“How is Father?”

“He’s made a turn for the better since I last wrote to you,” Derron answered truthfully, setting the pitcher of wine down. “He was still too weak to travel here, but the Maesters were even more hopeful than before by the time I left.”

That was great news. Perhaps your return visit to the Reach could wait a few more days, and once your brother’s affairs in King’s Landing were settled, you could ride back to Highgarden with him, and be all the more safer for it.

“What brings you here, Derron?” you asked then.

“You may not have received a raven, but Father did,” he replied. “Father received two of them, actually.”

“Who were they from?”

“The first was from Princess Rhaenyra herself.”

That was extremely surprising. Had you done something to upset the Princess? She seemed alright when she bade you goodbye before departing for the Stormlands… but perhaps she was attempting to save face in front of those around her. Had she written to your father and asked you to be removed from her service?

“I can see your mind racing,” your brother observed with a smirk. “You needn’t worry, Y/N. Princess Rhaenyra simply wished him a swift recovery, and invited him to King’s Landing to visit with King Viserys and to discuss matters of the Reach as soon as he was able to travel once more. I wish I had the letter to show you, but I believe father kept that for himself- the Princess complimented you greatly. I wish you could have seen the smile on his face as he read her words.”

The thought of your father’s smile due to humbling praises from Princess Rhaenyra brought a smile to your own face. You missed him. You missed home. But the visit with Derron would have to be enough, until a more suitable opportunity to return to Highgarden would appear.

“You mean to meet with the King later this week?” you asked, slightly confused. “Have you traveled here on Father’s behalf, then? Was there a matter so urgent that could not wait until he was able to travel here himself?”

“Yes… and no,” Derron. “All is as well as it can be in the Reach; the harvest has been as bountiful as we suspected it would be. But there was another, more pressing matter that required one of us to see to it immediately. Father decided it would be good practice for me to come and speak with the King about business while I was already in King’s Landing dealing with this other matter.”

The other matter must have been extremely pressing, if it had compelled your father to send Derron all the way to King’s Landing without so much as a raven’s notice. “Pray tell- what is this urgent matter you speak of?”

“That would involve the second raven Father received,” Derron pivoted. “Fortunately, I do have that letter in my possession. We both thought it might be best for you to see it for yourself.”

Your brother withdrew a rolled up piece of parchment from his coat, and handed it over to you. You took it with great intrigue, and immediately set about reading the tiny scrawlings littering the page.

“To Lord Larris Tyrell of Highgarden, Defender of the Marshes, Lord Paramount of the Reach, and Warden of the South:

I hope you are able to overlook my forwardness. I, Ser Harwin Strong, son of Lord Lyonnel Strong of Harrenhal, write to you regarding a most urgent matter of the mind and heart…”

You tore your eyes away from the page, and looked back up at your brother. The reassuring look on his face confirmed what you had suspected- your eyes were not deceiving you.

Ser Harwin had written to your father directly.

But what on earth for?!

“We received the raven with this message just a few days before I set out for King’s Landing. But I assure you, Father and I have discussed the contents of this letter at great length.”

You were almost too afraid to ask, but you found the courage to do so anyway. “What does this letter have to do with your visit?”

“If you would continue reading on, you shall see for yourself,” Derron encouraged you. “There are important conversations to be had with Ser Harwin Strong… as well as his father, Lord Lyonel. Such matters are far more appropriate to address in person, rather than by letter.”

Your eyes fell once more down to the parchment in your hands. “What matters could possibly require such attention?”

“... I can tell by your reaction that you have not spoken with Ser Harwin as of late,” your brother deduced. Didn’t last week count? “But that is of no matter. Now that I am here, we can all address it. Please, Y/N. Keep reading.”

“...

I would like to start by wishing you the quickest of recoveries.

I hope this letter reaches you in due time- I intend to discuss this subject with Lady Y/N in depth as soon as she allows me, and as soon as I muster up the courage to do so. I believe she is the one who deserves to learn of this matter first, and so that she may pass her judgment on it. But, on the advice of my father, out of respect for your great House, and out of respect to my own, I thought it wise to at least enlighten you about my intentions.

I apologize- I have never had the reputation for being a particularly eloquent man. But for this letter, I shall to be just that. I have only recently returned to King’s Landing from escorting Her Grace, the Princess Rhaenyra to my home, the Riverlands. Despite the tiredness I feel, the journey opened my eyes to a truth that I feel drawn to act upon at once.

My Lord, I have had the immense pleasure of sharing company with Lady Y/N since the Princess Rhaenyra recruited her to be of her service some time ago. Although I am sure you are aware, Lady Y/N is a great compliment to your house. Her kindness and charms are extended warmly to all, from the royal family to the poor of King’s Landing. Her wit entertains all who are blessed with her conversation, and her tenacity to succeed in an environment without the support of her family, who she clearly loves so dearly, has been nothing short of inspiring- even to a ‘brute’ such as myself.

All of this, when combined with the mere passage of time, and counsel from Princess Rhaenyra herself throughout our recent travels, has led to me to face one conclusion that I have been blind to for some time.

I have become completely captivated by Lady Y/N.

…”

Derron’s next words nearly fell upon deaf ears as you spaced out, torn between continuing your enthralled reading of the letter in your hands, and seeking clarification to the many questions that had been raised by it.

“It would seem,” your brother said wistfully, “That I am here to discuss the terms of your courtship, and inevitable betrothal, to Ser Harwin Strong.”

You were astonished.

“But before I can do that, I must know… Is this what you truly want?”

Part 3, “Storms,” can be read HERE.

A/N: Thank you for reading!🖤

Please feel free to let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist for any future parts. I apologize sincerely if I’ve missed anyone- please let me know if that’s the case! I tried to tag everyone from the first part who requested it, as well as some people who left comments on reblogs, but please do not hesitate to let me know if I missed anyone, or if you are on the taglist currently but wish to be removed.

TAGLIST: @whitetigerlover17 @littlebirdgot @strawbbyjamb @te5s3ract @landofdreamsworld @nerdboylover @piper570 @ephemeralninon @linkpk88 @green--beanie @kaygilles @hippzella @wicked-hg @thatgaytevinter @nowheredreamer @ateliefloresdaprimavera @queenofterrasen418 @saintspector @thebigbadbatswife @blazinglioness @itevilhag @chlo-feigh

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mrsmaxwelllord · 1 month

Text

Summer Storm

Pairing: Harwin Strong x Martell Lady!Reader

Summary: Harwin leaves King's Landing to protect the three youngest princes from the dangerous rumor circulating in the Red Keep. Upon arriving home, he discovers that his father had another plan to put an end to the rumors once and for all.

or, Harwin marries a Martell who can see ghosts.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: For now, only Arranged Marriage.

A/N: I think it's important to make two things clear before you start reading.

There is no Harwin/Rhaenyra in this story. Harwin returned to Harrenhal with the intention of putting the past behind him and the relationship they had is only briefly mentioned.

The Reader can see ghosts and has visions of the future. This is very important for the plot I have in mind, but it will be explained better in the following chapters (It will be important to the plot but have it in mind it isn't the central point, I intend to explore the relationship between the two more).

The only reason Harwin Strong agreed with his father about returning to Harrenhall was to protect Princess Rhaenyra’s children. His sole goal was to protect their honor and keep them safe from the nasty rumor about their parentage.

He knew he had made an irreversible mistake by letting Ser Criston get under his skin — this was exactly his goal, he realized later —, losing his temper and giving him the reaction he was looking for sealed his fate at King's Landing. He also knew that he had to part with the boys, by staying he would only allow the rumor to grow and strengthen. Even though he loved them so dearly, it was the right thing to do.

Harwin didn’t question his father any longer and left. The goodbye was particularly hard with Jacaerys and Lucerys, with little Jofrey it cut especially deeper for he would not be allowed to see him grow as he had had the chance with the two eldest boys. The farewell with Princess Rhaenyra was strange in a way he didn't imagine could be possible, not after so many years in camaraderie: she was awkward and had the expression of someone who wanted to confess something, but could not do it. In the end, she only looked at him with teary eyes and nodded her goodbye. He spent the whole trip home thinking about this interaction, wondering what it meant.

Only when the five towers of Harrenhal were visible in the distant horizon and he could see the Gods Eye’s waters, did his father break the news to him. He was to marry. He was to marry that very same day, as soon as he set foot at the castle in matter of fact.

He was not only to marry a Dornish Noble, he was to marry a Martell. Not one of the ruling Lord Martell’s children, since he had made clear — not with his words but with his actions thoroughly King Viserys’s reign — that he would not get involved with Westeros’ society, but a not-quite-distant relative. One important enough to join Houses with the King's Hand without being an embarrassment or cause mockery.

Harwin was beside himself with rage. He did not come back to Harrenhall to marry, certainly not to someone he never heard of before. He thought his father old fashioned and archaic for even considering an arranged marriage. They were almost through the castle gates when he calmed down enough to be able to hear the arguments his father was making.

“It will not be enough to just leave, Harwin,” Lyonel reasoned. “I fear nothing we ever do will be enough to silence the whispers, but this could be a new beginning. By marrying we give the people a new narrative and, if the seven heavens bless us, it will make them forget. At the very least, it’ll be something new and exciting to talk about. They will spare the boys.”

It was exactly what Harwin wanted — and desperately needed — to hear: that he could undo the harm he did to the boys. He felt so guilty for unleashing his anger on Ser Criston that his hands started to shake even when thinking about that odious day. So when Lord Lyonel explained to him the proposition in this particular light, he was glad to take it. He would do just about anything for the boys.

He accepted the marriage and promised his father he’d compromise to learn to be the Lord of Harrenhal. A good, just Lord. And a respectable husband also, even though this part of the promise was more complicated to comply with.

Harwin remembered his mother then. His parents' marriage was also arranged and his mother would occasionally tell him, Larrys stories about her coming to this very same castle. Harrenhal was rumored to be haunted, it was said these halls were full of ghosts and misfortunes, that the ruling lords were cursed to fall every century. Lady Strong never told her sons how afraid she was of the prospec of living in those dark walls, yet they could hear her hidden and forgotten fear; Harwin, who was raised to be Lord Strong one day, remembered one evening swearing to protect his future wife from the curse. A silly thought from his boyhood, he dismissed it. Yet, when thinking about what his bride would be like, he knew it was likely that the same fear could make itself known in your heart.

Harwin held no grudge against his betrothed, he knew it was likely that the choice was also not yours to make. You were in the same position, to be married to a stranger, so he made another commitment. To himself, this time. Like his parents’ marriage, he wanted this one to work out and, for this, you would’ve to work together and trust each other. But there would be no love involved, it was not possible, he already had his children and his priority was their well being. People would expect him to have heirs of his own one day, but this was a topic for the future. For the time being, he only had the heart to work one compromise at a time.

The first time Harwin met his Wife, he didn't see you entirely: you were wearing a thick veil that covered all of your face and your dressing concealed the rest of you. Harwin's acknowledgment of Dorne was limited to what the Maesters told him in his youth and what people said in King’s Landing about their costumes, but upon one look at you it was clear you were making a statement. You were clearly dressed in Dornish fashion, a thick satin fabric in a deep shade of blue that he realised was supposed to match his House’s color. The dress did not lack beauty, with its golden suns embroidered on the hems and also the extra piece of gold jewelry you wore in your neck, wrist and fingers. Harwin wondered if the fabric of the dress was enough to keep you warm on this winter day and if all the pretty little details were to spur him on or to show the power of House of Martell.

The first meeting concerned him immensely. His intention was to study you and decide what course of action he should take based on his first impression of you, but you only managed to confuse him further than he already was with you.

Upon being introduced to you, you were only polite and even-tempered, he dared think you were a bit too… placid. He couldn’t make anything out of your replies, it felt to him you only answered with what you thought he wanted to hear. Which he also thought was in contrast to your so bold choice of clothing.

He sat beside you at the main table and tried to have a meaningful conversation with you — as meaningful as a conversation with someone you know nothing about can be — yet got so frustrated that the only thing he could do to alleviate it was to drink the wine. It was not that you lacked intelligence in your little observations and answers, but Harwin could tell you were hiding something behind your clever words. It was like you were trying to dodge him yet it only made him so much more curious about you.

When it was time for the bride and groom’s dance, he realised what was wrong. For most of the feast, you drank and ate very little and your hands were always hiding in your lap under the table. Only when he held your hand did he realize you were shaking and cold. So very cold.

You were just as nervous as he was, that comforted him somehow. To know he wasn’t alone in all his mess.

Harwin danced with you for as long as he could, which wasn’t really much. Yet it was enough to find out the two of you strangely could synchronize well together. He still could not see your face under the veil, but he had a feeling you smiled back at him when the song stopped.

The time for the wedding ceremony arrived faster than you expected it to.

Even though there were fireplaces alight everywhere in the hall, you felt cold. Your hands, which had briefly stopped shaking while you were dancing with Harwin, started shaking again with more force than before. You were terribly nervous, thanking the Gods for the veil preventing your expression from being revealed to the crowd watching you. But soon, that too would be taken from you.

The ceremony itself was short and according to the customs of the Faith of the Seven, after you excused yourself and changed into a proper wedding dress and a yellow cloak symbolizing the House Martell. It happens at the Sept of the Castle, with a rather old Septon blessing the union. After the seven vows were made, it was time to exchange the clocks. Since your father couldn’t come with you to the Riverlands, it was your uncle who removed the clock from your shoulders; then Harwin carefully placed the blue cloak on your shoulders and lifted your veil.

You held your breath and made sure to look in his eyes to study the expression on his face. The veil was only an old custom, one you were partially glad for, but mostly afraid of. It conceals your expression but also your appearance, not that the way you looked was of any significance. In fact, your appearance didn't make any difference at all for the marriage, if Ser Harwin disapproved of it the union would happen anyway.

To you, the veil only served to make the wedding kiss an even more anxiety-filled moment, the anticipation was killing you and you suspected your soon-to-be husband felt the same way — if his endless questions about you and your likes were of any concern. If he thought of you ugly, you only wished that he could not show it in front of all those watching eyes— it would be your first kiss and the start of your life as a Lady, it would hurt too much to watch his face squirm with displeasure.

To your relief, there was no squirm of displeasure from Harwin. His eyes initially only looked at yours, then it ran through your face… Your eyebrows, your hair, your cheeks, your nose, then finally your mouth. In which he fixated for as long as he could before he looked up into your eyes again and followed with the ceremony.

“With this kiss I pledge my love” both you and Harwin say in harmony and he leans down to kiss you. His lips are soft and sweet and he kisses you slowly, carefully, with one hand he holds yours and the other he guides your face up to better kiss you. It lasts only a moment yet it leaves you feeling inebriated.

“…and take you for my lady and wife” Harwin finishes, with the delicious thick accent of his.

“…and take you for my lord and husband.”

The feast that followed the wedding was extravagant. With delicious food made in both RiverLand’s and Dornish’s costumes to please both parties, even though your own party was small and consisted only of your uncle, a few knights, and some maids that had come to serve you in your new home. You had brought with you a few barrels of Stronwine as a gift to your father-in-law and he seemed to thrive in its rich flavor and high alcohol content.

The guests, most of them Lords from Riverlands and friends to Lord Strong, were happy, singing and dancing to the songs. Your brother-in-law was nowhere to be seen. Your now officially husband was seated by your side at the main table and, just like before, kept on asking you all kinds of questions.

You thought it was a good sign, the questionnaire about your family, friends and life in Sunspear showed interest in you. Yet it was difficult to answer it all, you did not know his character just yet and preferred to keep the more delicate matter to yourself until you were sure he was trustworth; that he would not judge and make your life hell. So you kept your replies neutral and tried to keep the conversation about him; you asked him how was being Captain in the City Watch, what was life at the Red Keep like, what he enjoyed doing in his spare time, if he had any. You considered asking him about Princess Rhaenyra and her children, but decided against it. You thought it wise not to corner a hounded man — not when he was known as Breakbones.

You danced with him again and again during the party, actually enjoying his company and quickly quit. Despite your concerns, because you knew he had lost his temper and attacked the Queen’s sworn shield, he seemed to be a gentle and composed man. Harwin is devastatingly more handsome than you expected him to be, his hair is half up allowing you to better enjoy the strong features of his face. His clothes were a dark shade of blue that almost matched his eyes and gave him a solemn aura, you couldn’t help but notice.

When it was time for the bedding ceremony, you were beside yourself with worry. You knew what to expect but the prospects of it did not please you, yet, once again, Harwin eases your anxiety and just leads you to his chambers without drawing attention from anyone instead of following the traditional ceremony.

He leads you to the Kingspyre Tower, where the castellan’s chambers are at, it is the tallest tower and it takes a long time to get up there. Harwin uses this time to ease your worries with comforting words, he says he does not wish to see you concerned. And it almost helps, it is almost enough for you to believe his words.

Once in his chambers, he locks the door from the inside and seats you at the biggest canopy bed you’ve ever seen. You wait for him to start, not sure of what exactly he expects of you, but he leaves you in the bed alone and goes to fix glasses of wine in the bedside cabinet. You decide to take matters in your own hand and quickly unlace the dress, leaving you only in your chemise, then you make yourself more comfortable and wait for him to turn.

When he does turn, he is taken back by your lack of clothing, but goes to your side and gives the glass. Unlike in the feast, you drank almost all of it. You need the bust of confidence.

“Are you still nervous, m’lady?” he asks with a sweet smile, his tone has that accent of his you came to adore.

You decided to go with the truth this time.

“Yes, my lord. I find it difficult to feel anything else at this time.”

Harwin takes a long sip from his cup and takes your hand in his.

“I meant it when I said you had nothing to worry about.”

“Thank you” you say, because words are failing you by now. Your hands are shaking again, but Harwin looks at you so gently it becomes hard to believe he’d willingly hurt you. You want to trust him, you truly do.

“I’ll be honest with you” he starts, suddenly looking away and, for a moment, you believe he’ll talk about the young Princes. “I want this marriage to work.”

“As do I, my lord..” you reply, confused.

“We’ll be Lord and Lady of Harrenhal one day and it’ll not come without difficulties. If we want to rule with honor and dignity, we’ll have to understand and respect each other. I want us to work together.”

“I want the same, Harwin.”

“I must tell you a few things then, so we know where we stand. Set some boundaries.”

“Is it about Princess Rhaenyra’s children?” you finally ask, catching up to his meaning.

It caught him off guard, he turned to you and his expression tells it all. The conformations of the histories you’ve been listening to about your husband. You smile sadly. You had really hoped it was all just rumors.

“So what they say is true.”

Harwin wants to deny it, but he decides to start this marriage with honesty so he simply nods. And it is as a huge weight is lifted from his back, he sighs deeply as if he is finally able to breathe again.

“Do you honestly wish to work together?” you ask him, looking into his eyes. “It’ll take time and a great deal of effort, but I think that if you’re willing to, we can manage it.”

“There’s nothing I want more.”

...

Notes: Couldn't help but write my own piece about the beloved Harwin "Breakbones" Strong. He just screams "arranged married plot"! and I could not simply make it easy from him!! I want to see him suffer a bit.

This will have a follow up!

Let me know what you think!

#harwin strong #harwin strong fanfiction #harwin strong x reader #harwin strong x you

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aemondwhoresworld · 6 months

Text

RHAE rec. (still UPDATING)

𝐒𝐄𝐑. 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆

≡ this is my SER HARWIN STRONG recommend list!

≡ i don’t own any of these works. also i wanted to thank you to all the author for writing such an amazing works! 🤍

≡ please be free to recommend more fic if you have any other angsty, fluff, etc fic

≡ if you have any other HARWIN STRONG fic recommend, please feel free to include it in!! 🤗

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍. rec

⌗ one-shot

SECOND HEIR — by @imagines-all-day-everyday

LOVING HANDS — by @letaliabane

THE COMMANDER’S TRYST — by @house-strong

ALONE — by @thesithdiaries

STRONG BONDS — by @itsgameofthronesimagines

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mgcldydrms · 1 year

Text

Dance With Me ( Harwin Strong )

requested by anon: Can you write a little blurb about Harwin Strong asking Reader for a dance?

word count: 0.8k

warnings: none, except for fluff

pairing: harwin strong x fem!reader

author's note: it took me some time to complete this blurb, but I finally did it. I really hope you all enjoy this one.

navigation | main masterlist | hotd masterlist | taglist

Your eyes wandered around the grand room. Almost everyone in Westeros had come together in King’s Landing to celebrate yet another year of Viserys as the King of the seven Kingdoms. As his second oldest daughter, you were attending as commanded, even though you would rather spend your time doing something else.

As you glanced around the room, you noticed that almost everyone was out of their seats and on the dance floor. They had huge smiles on their faces. They must be really enjoying themselves, you thought to yourself as you let out an almost inaudible sigh. Even Rhaenyra, your older sister by a year and a half, was dancing with someone.

You looked over to your father, who was talking to Lyonel Strong. You had no idea what they were talking about, however, before you could move closer to where they were and listen to the schemes they were conjuring up, you heard your name being called.

Your eyes opened wide, recognising the voice clearly. Slowly, you turned around and looked up at those brown eyes that already watched you.

A gentle smile graced Harwin Strong’s lips as he looked down at you. You couldn’t help but smile brightly at him, a light blush gracing your cheeks while your eyebrows were slightly raised, waiting for him to say something.

“Would you like to dance with me, Princess?”

Harwin held his hand out for you, lightly wiggling his fingers while he waited for you to make a decision.

While you contemplated whether to take his hand and dance with him in front of everyone, which was somewhat of a nightmare for you because you hated being the centre of attention, you turned your head slightly to the side, looking over your shoulder, quickly noticing that your father and Lord Strong had stopped talking and were now looking as expectantly at you as Harwin Strong.

Viserys, your father, nodded his head, encouraging you to take up the young man’s offer. You knew that he only wanted the best for you. He had noticed the glances you stole at Harwin Strong, always staying a bit longer when he was around, exchanging secret smiles that got noticed by both fathers, King Viserys Targaryen and Lyonel Strong.

You let out a small breath you didn’t know you were holding before you turned around again, a bright smile on your lips as you looked up at Harwin, who was still holding his hand out for you.

“Of course.”, you stated, putting your hand in his while you got up from your seat.

Harwin had a proud smile on his lips while he guided you to the dance floor, almost everyone’s attention on you. You were able to catch your sister’s eyes, who instantly wiggled her eyebrows, making you lightly giggle, luckily without anyone noticing.

Rhaenyra was the first one to find out about your crush on Harwin Strong. She encouraged you to talk to him whenever you could, sometimes even pushing you towards him, which usually made you bump into him, seeing as though you were the clumsy one out of the two of you. Thankfully, it helped, and it always encouraged you to strike up a conversation with him.

Once you made it to the dance floor, you turned around and stood face-to-face with the young man in front of you. Both of you had bright smiles on your lips. Anyone who didn’t notice the sparks flying between you was blind. There was so much chemistry between you. Everyone could see it.

Both of your fathers wore proud smiles on their lips, knowing the next big thing they had to discuss with one another.

As soon as the music started again, you and Harwin, along with the other guests, moved your bodies to the rhythm of it. You weren’t the perfect dancer, however, you were decent enough to manoeuvre your way around the dance floor.

Harwin couldn’t help but admire the way you danced and quickly noticed that you were always wearing a smile on your face, whether it was from being embarrassed because you missed a few steps or because you were enjoying yourself, he didn’t care. Harwin loved seeing that smile. It brightened his day.

One dance ended, and another one began, and you felt as though you didn’t want to stop. You wanted to keep on dancing, and the young Strong too. He wanted to be as close to you as appropriately possible.

The two of you wanted to dance the night away with one another, and the longer you were on the dance floor, the lesser you cared about everyone’s eyes on you. The only thing that mattered to you at that moment was to have Harwin Strong this close to you, talking to him, laughing with him … feeling his touch.

#harwin strong x reader #harwin strong imagine #harwin strong blurb #harwin strong x you #harwin strong x Targaryen!reader #harwin strong x fem!reader #harwin strong fanfiction #harwin strong fluff #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd imagines #hotd x reader

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ytmanzwhore · 2 years

Text

The Realms Princess Part 3- Harwin Strong

Summary: the wedding of rhaneyra and laenor

Warnings: a touch of violence at the end!

Read other parts here: Part 1 Part 2

“What is wrong with you?” Alyssa swept into Rhaenyra’s chambers after their return from Driftmark, where her sister had been pouting since they had ensured their Father’s wellbeing after their return to the keep.

“What do you mean?” Rhaenyra asked from her seat by the balcony.

“You have barely left your room since we got back,” Alyssa sat beside her. “We have many things to plan. We need the bride to be. I know you aren’t happy with this arrangement, but at least you are familiar with Laenor, it could’ve been a Lannister.”

“I couldn’t even fathom that,” Rhaenyra laughed with her sister. “I must confess something to you.” And so her sister revealed her moments with her personal guard, and his now removal from her service after Rhaenyra refused to run away with him.

“Oh sister,” Alyssa shook her head, pulling the older girl into her arms for a hug. “You have done the right thing, refusing him. You cannot take the blame for his own over reaching desires. Once you get through this wedding, maybe you can revisit your relationships, but right now we have the biggest party in the seven Kingdoms to plan.”

And so the sisters, along with Rhaenys, planned Rhaenyra and Laenor’s wedding festivities. Over the days, Alyssa’s mind drifted to the thoughts of her own potential marriage. Her father had agreed to her match with Ser Harwin easily, and had asked his youngest for a few days to discuss details with his Hand before the agreement was finalized. But seeing the pleased smile on Lord Strong’s face when she had stated her desire to marry his son, Alyssa was not worried about an agreement.

The day of the feast which would begin Rhaenyra’s wedding week, Alyssa was running around like she lacked a head. Rhaenys had left for Driftmark to gather her family, and so it fell to the youngest Princess to ensure final details were taken care of. Alyssa took the time to take her mid day meal with her younger siblings, all three of them scrambling for their older sister’s attention before she was summoned to her father.

“Father?” Alyssa called out as she entered his solar, immediately painting a smile on her face as she noticed the two men joining her father. “My Lord Hand, Ser Harwin.”

The two men bowed their heads in greeting as Alyssa turned to her father who was seated in the corner. “What can I do for you today father?”

“Alyssa,” he got up and approached her, grabbing her hands. “I wanted to thank you for your help in arranging these festivities for your sister. I know this typically falls upon another member of the keep, but you have done wonderfully. And to thank you for your hard work, I hope it would please you for me to announce your marriage agreement with Ser Harwin Strong, this evening at the feast.”

Alyssa had to hold back her grin as her father squeezed her hands. Seeing a grinning Harwin out of the corner of her eye, Alyssa felt her heart stutter as she finally let her smile through as she thanked her father. As Alyssa turned to face her soon to be husband, she silently thanked Lord Strong, who distracted her father with some parchment as Alyssa walked up to Harwin, feeling all of a sudden shy.

“My Princess,” Harwin reached out to grab her hand as she stood in front of me.

“Ser,” Alyssa smiled up at him. “Are you pleased with this, truly Harwin?”

“Have I not shown over the past months how I feel?” Harwin murmured as he brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I am honored to be your husband one day. You are a treasure Princess, and I am so lucky. The men will all be envious of me tonight.”

“The women will feel the same of me I’m sure,” Alyssa smiled. The two of them turned to her father who announced his need for a talk with his other daughter, the couple and Lord Strong saying their goodbyes before exiting his solar. Lyonel gave the two a smirk as he said his goodbyes and said he would see them at the feast.

“Are you nervous for tonight?” Harwin asked Alyssa as the two linked arms and Harwin walked the younger girl to her rooms.

“Not as much,” Alyssa shrugged as they came into view of her rooms where Ser Rodd was standing outside. “I just hope everything goes well.”

“It will be a night to remember I’m sure,” Harwin murmured as he pulled her to a stop, Alyssa turning to face him. “I am very excited to get to be your husband, my soon to be wife.”

“I agree,” Alyssa smiled softly as Harwin’s hand came up to cup her cheek. The man searched her eyes for a second, before leaning down to press his lips to hers.

Many thought that since Alyssa had always behaved in the manner befitting her station, she never had acted outside of those bounds. But as a younger girl, Alyssa had found herself sharing short kisses with stable boys. And none of those could compare to the warm feeling of Harwins soft lips on her own.

Neither of them tried to deepen the kiss, thought he was tempted when Alyssa’s hand found itself on his chest, grasping at his tunic. The two pulled apart with a smile, Harwin leaning over to press a kiss to the back of her hand as he murmured his goodbyes. Ser Rodd stifled a smile at his charge’s giggle as she almost skipped into her room to get ready for the evening.

Alyssa found herself in her best new dress that evening, a deep red dress with gold thread, and a v neck that showed a tasteful amount of cleavage and drew attention to the large ruby sitting in the hollow of her throat. Alyssa smiled at the guests of the keep as she approached the head table where her father and sister were already sat. Kissing them both on the cheek, Alyssa made her way to her seat as they began to welcome the houses to the feast.

After barely welcoming the Lannisters, and being shocked by the attendance of her uncle’s late wife’s family, Alyssa smiled as the doors opened to admit House Strong. Shaena and Jane were both in new dresses the three girls had worked on together, and the three men of the House looked handsome in their finery.

“Princess, we wish you happiness in this union,” Lord Strong bowed his head to Rhaenyra, smiling at Alyssa as the King offered his thanks. Harwin winked at Alyssa, causing the girl to blush and his sisters to giggle before Lyonel made his way to his seat with the King, and his children headed to one of the head tables. After the arrival of House Velaryon, Viserys would announce Alyssa’s betrothal, and Harwin would join her at the royal table then.

Alyssa smiled softly as the Velaryons made their entrance, smiling to her cousins as they spoke with the King. Rhaneys, Corlys, Laenor and Laena joined them at the head table before the rest of their house headed to the guest tables. As everyone took their seats, a lone figure in the Hall doors drew everyones attention, as Daemon made his way towards the Royal Family. The King stood and watched him approach, Daemon grinning as his brother stared him down before gesturing for another empty chair to be added to Alyssa’s side of the table.

Viserys stayed standing to make welcoming remarks, but was interrupted by Allicent’s dramatic entrance. Even Alyssa couldn’t find it in herself to stand or smile as the Queen approached the table in green. Daemon watched his niece with pride as she stared stone faced at her step mother as she made a cold remark to Rhaenyra before approaching her seat on Viserys’ other side. Alyssa wasn’t sure if the Queen thought she would find an ally in the younger Princess, but everyone took note of the lack of respect Alyssa had for the queen.

Viserys shook off the interruption, and with a boost from his Hand, was able to continue with his speech. Her father spoke of the second age of dragons, before he turned to his other daughter. “And it pleases me greatly, that on the eve of this union, to announce another union of my house.”

Alyssa stood and smiled sweetly as everyone looked to the Princess of the people. Minds were whirling, trying to guess who would have the pleasure of marrying her. “The crown and I, to thank my daughter Alyssa for her exquisite work organizing these next few days of festivities, are delighted to announce her betrothal. In 6 moons, Princess Alyssa will marry Ser Harwin Strong, Heir to Harrenhal, and Commander of the City Watch.”

Harwin stood with a smile, approaching the dais. He bowed to the King and shocked Queen, before rounding the table as the hall roared in applause. Alyssa offered him her hand, and he lifted it to place a kiss to the back of it, before they turned to the rest of the hall. The two of them stood grinning until the applause died down, and the two took their seats with Viserys signaling for the meal to commence.

“It seems your stepmother feels slighted,” Daemon remarked to Alyssa later on as the two danced.

“She is not my concern,” Alyssa shrugged. “She made no effort to be involved in this planning, though it is her duty. She should not be given false courtesies.”

Daemon hummed as he watched his young niece, releasing the girl and taking her sister into his arms. Alyssa found herself laughing with Laenor on the next round of dancing, the two joking as they twirled around, before the screaming started. Laenor, the fighter he is, had darted towards the circle forming in the middle of the hall. Alyssa just stayed out of the way, then attempted to get towards the dais as the whole crowd began to turn on each other.

She shoved her way through, and thought she was almost out before a large body slammed her into the table behind her. The Princess yelped, but no one noticed. She slid to the floor, planning to climb under the table to get away from the chaos. As she did, a knee came up, slamming into her nose. Her eyes watered as she felt her nose break, barely able to hear the loud calls for her name.

Through her blurry vision, she was able to see a body kneel in front of her before pulling her into their arms. Harwin’s blood boiled as he felt her tears soak his shirt, her hand curling into the fabric as he shoved his way out of the crowd to get her back to the family. Both Viserys, Lyonel and Rhaenyra hurried towards the couple as soon as they were clear of the people.

“Is she ok?” The king asked frantically, petting Alyssa’s hair as the girl finally removed her face from Harwin’s chest.

“I am ok,” she soothed, even with a trail of blood down her face. “Will you set me down?” She looked up to Harwin who nodded, Alyssa patting his chest as he steadied her shaky legs.

“Oh my sweet,” Viserys sighed as he cupped her face, the crowd finally calming and yelling was heard. The group turned to the hall, shocked to see the beaten body of Joffrey on the floor, Ser Cole standing over him, bloodied.

#harwin #ser harwin #ser harwin strong #harwin strong #harwin imagine #ser harwin imagine #harwin strong imagine #ser harwin strong imagine #harwin strong x oc #targaryen oc #house targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #harwin strong fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 1 year

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HotD Fanfiction Discord is Live!

Hello all!

Just want to let you know that I and some fellow House of the Dragon fanfiction writers have gotten together and set up a Fanfiction Hub!

The Discord has spaces for general chat, character discussion (depraved and romantic) and fandom art. Writers and readers have access to fanfiction update posts, WIP threads and writing resources. Writers also have their own chat spaces to seek beta support, general advice and recommendations from other writers in the server.

If you are interested in joining, the Discord link is available here! We’d love to have you around!

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dedicatednotobsessed · 1 year

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The Sellsword [Harwin Strong x Fem!Reader]

Other HOTD stories [requests open]

Summary: Surviving in Fleabottom can be a challenge although you knew how to survive the streets, not being afraid of killing any man as long as it meant your survival. The older you became, the more who recognized your skill and you became a sellsword. You ended up in a chance encounter with a gold cloak, Ser Harwin Strong and you prove him wrong when he challenges your skill as a female sellsword….

WARNING: This one shot contains sexual content. Please read at your own risk.

Gif doesn’t belong to me ❤️‍🔥

You smirked lightly as you sat across from your pal, who called himself Dagger, your hand clasped in his. You were in the depths of Fleabottom where most of the other cutthroats tended to spend their time gambling and in the arms of whores. Most of them were an unusual sort, yet you called them family.

“I am telling you that you can not win, Dagger,” You taunted watching his plump face turn red, the two of you struggling in an arm wrestle match: a test of strength.

Cheers erupted around the table as you slammed his hand on the table, the man grunting in defeat. “One day, I will win.”

“Ah, that day is not today, my friend,” You said with a small smirk while taking a long drink of your ale.

“Alas.” A scrawnier man came over clapping you hard on the back. “Y/N constantly proves that she is strong, for a woman.”

You narrowed your eyes a bit after finding your composure from the slap. “Oi, do you want to try your hand at me, Fang?” You questioned with a cocked brow and smirked when he stuttered. “That is what I thought.”

You set your empty cup on the table with a small laugh. “I just find it amusing you lot are afraid of a little girl!” You teased. “The most fearsome men in all of Fleabottom are scared of a little delicate girl!”

Your laugh continued to grow as you sat back down, smirking while your eyes scanned over the men. Dagger was the biggest of them all with a big belly hanging out of the bottom of his tunic. Fang and Claw were twin brothers, both as scrawny as one another with each one having features similar to a face of a rat.

“Are you being a cocky shit again, Y/N?” A gruff voice spoke up.

Your smirk widened and lulled your head at Darreth, a man of pale skin which made his dark hair stand out. “I would never think of such a thing.”

Darreth snorted as he set a fresh cup of ale in front of you while placing a hand atop your head. “Of course you wouldn’t.”

You smiled and thanked him quietly for the ale before taking a drink. After your father got murdered, Darreth found you begging on the streets and took you in as a daughter from the young age of eight. He taught you how to be a Sellsword as himself and was able to make a name for yourself before you were the age of five-and-ten.

You let out a long sigh, your eyes flickering up when you heard Darreth scoff. Your eyes connected with the blue eyes of a gold cloak, a small smirk forming on your lips.

“Is there something you need?” You called to him noticing his gaze lingering a bit longer than it should.

The gold cloak watched you for a moment before a chuckle passed his lips as he walked closer. “I want to make sure you are all right.”

You raised a brow. “What do you mean? Do I seem as though I am in any danger?” You questioned.

The man hesitated a bit as his eyes scanned over your features, the smug smirk clear on your face. “No, it appears not.”

You tilted your head as you looked the man over. His dark curly hair suited him well, making his blue eyes stand out from the rest of his appearance. He was quite handsome, even if he was a dog to the King- as Darreth liked to call the city watch.

“Why don’t you try your hand at a test of strength against me?” You suddenly offered.

The man chuckled a bit. “I can not, I’m afraid.”

You tilted your head with a small smirk as you stood up, walking around the man a bit. “The gold cloaks are supposed to be some of the strongest men…if you are to protect the king after all.”

“Leave the dog alone, Y/N,” Darreth spoke up although you ignored him.

“It should not be too hard for a gold cloak to beat a simple Sellsword,” You taunted looking over the man.

The man chuckled and nodded. “I guess you are correct.”

You hummed as your smirk grew. “And what is the name of my opponent?”

“Ser Harwin of House Strong,” He introduced himself with a nod.

“Well, Ser Harwin of House Strong,” You began while walking back towards your table. “Let us see if you can beat me.”

“What are the stakes here?” Harwin questioned as he sat across from you.

“It’s simple really. I will give you what you wish if you win and you give me what I wish if I win.”

Harwin chuckled a bit. “And what do you wish for if you win?”

You smirked lightly as you held your arm up, your elbow on the table. “That will be a surprise.”

Harwin returned your smirk, clasping his hand in yours. You could tell it was quite a challenge when your arm began to shake as he tried to slam your hand down but you were quick to overpower him.

You let out a laugh when you slammed his hand down, everyone cheering for you.

Harwin blew out a breath, a chuckle passing his lips. “Well done.”

You smirked lightly. “I believe I deserve my reward, Ser Harwin.”

“Ah, yes. That was our wager.” Harwin chuckled a bit. “How much gold would you like?”

You raised a brow at him before you stood up, walking behind the man. Your fingers lightly ran over his armor while you tilted your head as a small him passed your lips. “And who said I would like gold?” You purred in his ear.

Your eyes went up to Darreth who narrowed his eyes as he watched you, your smirk only widening. You ran your hands down Harwin’s armor before taking his hand and helping him stand, leading him away from the rest of the group.

You took him down the narrow paths of Fleabottom, holding onto his hand to make sure he does not get lost.

“I should get back to my duty,” Harwin said after a moment as he pulled you to a stop.

You looked up at his piercing blue eyes, smirking wide. “Fuck your duty,” You whispered while leaning up so your face was inches from his.

You laughed lightly as he just watched you while leading him through the door of a brothel. You swayed your hips a bit, leading Harwin into an empty room before turning towards him.

“Tell me, Ser Harwin,” You began, fiddling with the laces on your tunic. “Have you ever laid with a woman?”

Harwin chuckled a bit at the question. “If you must know, I have.”

A small hum passed your lips while you looked down at your tunic. You untied your tunic and slipped it off your body, moving onto your belt and boots next. You noticed the gold cloak watching you and you smirked more, letting your breeches fall next. As a Sellsword, you never dressed as a proper lady; something Fang and Claw taunted you about quite often.

You walked closer and began to untie Harwin’s armor for him beginning with his gauntlets. “I wonder if any of those women are as good as me,” You said softly, tilting your head as you helped him with his chest armor.

Harwin hooked two of his fingers under your chin, his other hand going to your waist to bring you closer to him. “Let’s find out,” He whispered and leaned down kissing you deeply on the lips.

You returned his kiss hungrily as your hands went to his breeches, sliding them down with ease. Your smirk widened widened as you grinded your hips into his to gain a bit of friction, your hand going down towards his cock.

You released the kiss, your hand tugging up and down as you helped him with his tunic. You moved your hands up to his bare chest while you slowly pushed him back onto the bed, climbing over him after he laid down.

You kept your eyes on Harwin as you traced patterns on his chest. You have been with both men and women and you always enjoyed being the one in charge. You have found a certain arousal from it.

You gripped his cock once more guiding it towards your cunt. Harwin gripped onto your hips tight as you helped him inside of you, a moan passing your lips.

You began to move your hips against his as he went further inside of you, moans of satisfaction coming out from the two of you.

Harwin grunted as you began to lightly bounce while your breasts clapped against your chest. You arched your back, furrowing your brows as he began to go faster, gripping onto you tighter.

You felt yourself reaching your limit soon enough, your bounces becoming faster the faster Harwin thrusted inside of you.

You let out a loud satisfied moan when the two of you reached your limit, laughing as some of your hair fell in your face. You smirked down at Harwin, the two of you trying to regain your breath.

“Did I prove to be right, Ser Harwin of House Strong?” You purred, pushing back some of his curly hair.

Harwin returned your smirk while he relaxed back on the silk pillows, admiring your natural state. “I do not know about that,” He said in a teasing tone. “We could get confirmation if you are the best woman I have slept with when the moon is upon us…only to make sure.”

You smirked and leaned down close to his ear. “Meet me here when it turns the hour of the owl,” You purred and winked at him before climbing off with a giggle.

Harwin watched you, chuckling lightly as you got dressed and left the brothel in a rush. You knew you were to get an earful from Darreth however, you deserved your reward against Ser Harwin and the many rewards he was to give you the more times you snuck around with him with every visit to Fleabottom he had paid.

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welldonebeca · 1 year

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The Christmas War (9)

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Masterlist

They had to move quick to do the things needed to transfer Jace to Winterfell. It was a group effort, with documents to cover everything from his move, transfer, his permit and all of that.

His son was elated. Rhaenyra and Laenor had sat with him at night to talk about away from prying ears and concluded that, yes, it was something serious and not an idea Harwin had put in his head. It made him wonder how much Jace had planned in his head about his future, how much he thought of all of them, and adjusted to keep everyone happy. It sounded so tasking.

He deserved to be selfish and a little inconsequential.

Classes were going to start at the end of January, so they were trying to be quick with everything. It was the first time in his life he was grateful for Christmas not being a national holiday.

He was very excited about everything.

Harwin was lucky to have a contact inside the school - an old childhood friend - and got the basic stuff for his enrolment running while Daemon worked on making sure they wouldn’t have any problems with his old school.

He would be able to join their swimming team with a recommendation from his current coach, and the school was only waiting for his records to have him assigned to a few advanced classes.

It made Harwin very proud to know everything his boy had accomplished in such a short life.

He had just hang up the phone from setting things up when he watched Jace taking Joffrey and the oldest of the little boys - Aegon, he suspected - and walked into the kitchen to find Rhaenyra with her face buried into a cooking book.

Oh? She was the one cooking, not Daemon?

“Hey,” he called.

She raised her eyes to him, and her eyes widened.

“If you are here, who is with Luke?” she asked.

He stopped, a bit surprised.

“Luke?”

Harwin froze when it clicked in his mind.

It was the 25th.

Luke’s birthday!

“It’s Luke’s birthday!” he gasped. “We got forgot Luke’s birthday!”

How could he have forgotten his birthday! It was December.

It was during Christmas! Christmas dinner always doubled as Luke’s birthday party!

“Who is we?” Laenor called behind him, rushing inside with a box full of food, turning to Rhaenyra. “Where is Daemon?”

“Picking up the cake,” she walked to the box, taking several lemons from inside. “Did you get the right brand of vanilla?”

He blinked, confused, feeling a little out of place.

Oh. So he was the only one who had forgotten.

“Yes. Fake vanilla, not the right one,” he confirmed. “Did you start the crème bastard?”

Harwin turned to look at them, and Rhaenyra looked a little annoyed.

“I forgot.”

He stood quickly.

“Are you making that sweet cream I taught you?”

She nodded.

“Trying to,” Rhaenyra pointed out. “And those… winter cakes?”

“I can make them,” he told them quickly. “I can help.”

Laenor seemed relieved.

“Good, cause she sucks with sweet food,” he pointed out.

“Hey!”

She glared at him, but Laenor simply chuckled and booped her on the nose on his way to the other side of the kitchen.

“Dear wife, you have no sense of sweetness,” he pointed out. “Everything has either too much sugar or it is too bland.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

It was so strange, seeing them interacting the way they used to do before.

Years ago, Harwin used to be a little jealous of the bond they shared, and in the beginning, he wished very much that Daemon felt the same.

He never quite knew the details of their relationship in the past, maybe a bit out of fear. They were so affectionate with one another, always hugging and touching, holding hands in public and leaning on one another in public and private… it was hard to place where they stood when thinking about that, but also their private lives - Laenor was dating Joffrey since before Harwin was hired to be with their family, and he didn’t seem to mind him having a relationship with Rhaenyra.

It was natural for Harwin to be a little jealous.

Of course, after the divorce and he actually became friends, and he found out Laenor was gay, which was a bit of a shock.

“Must be because I am sweet enough myself,” she teased him back.

That earned her a big smoochy kiss on her cheek, like the ones they were always shared at home.

“Ex-wife,” Daemon remarked, walking into the kitchen, carrying a big box, glaring at them, though not doing more than that.

It made him curious as he moved with a pan to make his crème bastard.

Did he know?

Because as far as Harwin knew, Laenor had never come out in a big official way. Before he explicitly told him he was gay - with all the words - he just thought he was bisexual!

Maybe Daemon thought he was bisexual.

He smirked a bit to himself. It would do good to Daemon to feel a little bit of jealousy. A little bit of healthy competition wasn’t bad - even if that was just in his head.

"You never let me forget it," Laenor quipped, cutting his lemons, and Harwin walked to his side as Rhaenyra and Daemon exchanged a long kiss, getting the eggs from the egg basket.

Daemon picked up the box he had left on the counter and placed it into one of the fridges, still sealed.

"I'll go check on the kids and get done with the bacon pie," he told her. "Did they have lunch?"

"Forty minutes ago," she told him. "Can you help them brush their teeth?"

“Of course,” he agreed.

He left and Harwin elbowed Laenor on the side, separating the yolks and whites.

“Does he know?” he whispered.

His friend frowned, confused, and Harwin glanced back at Rhaenyra.

“You know,” he insisted. “That you and Rhaenyra could never, ever, ever…”

Laenor laughed, and when they glared at her, she was looking at them a bit confused.

“I like to keep him keep guessing,” he confessed, done cutting the lemons. “You never know when her ex-husband can swipe her off her feet again.”

Harwin chuckled. Hopefully Daemon trusted Rhaenyra enough that he didn’t think of that too much. It would be a shame.

They separated to do their own things, and he had to bat Rhaenyra’s hand away when she tried to poke her finger into the hot cream, like she would do before.

“If you want to be helpful, then get me the blueberries, please,” he requested. “They are in the fridge.”

Harwin made lots of the dessert - according to Rhaenyra, Rhaenys and Corlys were coming over, and a few of Luke's friends, so he made enough for thirty people. Rhaenyra loved that dessert, so he knew any excess was going to be welcomed anyway.

Rhaenys and Corlys arrived when he was helping setting up the table, a mix of Christmas and birthday foods, and he had a bit of time to clean up before everyone joined the group for the party, and he was surprised when Luke all by dragged him the moment he stepped down the stairs to a group of boys he had never seen before.

"Okay, so, this is my other dad," he told them, looking excited and proud. "His name is Harwin Strong and he is a fencing champion."

Harwin smiled, feeling very warm and happy.

"Nice to meet you," he looked at the boys.

"Papa, this is Clement Stauton," he pointed at a short blonde boy, then a pair of brown haired boys. "And Amons and Raylon Bracken."

He nodded to them.

"Wait, he the one who gave you dirtbike?" Raylon asked, his Valyrian accent very thick, looking impressed. "Cool!"

Harwin smiled, patting his son's back.

"Well, I knew he really wanted one," he told them. "And that he will be very responsible with it."

Luke smiled largely.

"Of course," he agreed. "I'm very responsible."

He was left to chuckle.

At 15? Sure.

"Alright," he messed Luke's hair a little. "I hope you all have fun tonight. I'm pretty sure Luke got some cool video games to show to you."

That seemed to get them very excited, and he knew Laenor would brag about being right when he set up the TV room for their gaming.

When he walked back, Rhaenyra was coming down the stairs, looking simply gorgeous in a silver dress, and Daemon seemed to notice it, because he was very quick to welcome her and swipe her off her feet in a movie-like kiss.

Gods, she was gorgeous.

He was almost jealous when she saw Luke and kissed him all over his round cheeks, making him blush pink as they spoke something in Valyrian.

It was hilarious, however, to see the boys' reaction. The boys were all pretty much drooling when she she hugged them affectionately.

"Hey," he tapped Laenor on the shoulder when he reached his side. "Look."

His friend did, and chuckled.

"Oh, yeah. All of his friends crush on her," he told them. "Or on Baela. On or Rhaena. On Daemon too."

He chuckled.

"I called it," he reminded him. "Remember when the boys got into school?"

Laenor finally seemed to remember, laughing a bit.

"Hey, anyone could have called that the boys' friends would crush on their mum," he pointed out. "It's Rhaenyra, come on."

In that he was right. Rhaenyra was the most beautiful woman Harwin had ever met in his life.

They started sharing food a bit after that, and Corlys and Rhaenys made small talk with him during it - they were planning on visiting Essos after this, doing a little bit of a tour or something for their extended Valentine's day holiday.

It was very nice to see a couple that'd been together for so long still finding ways to make life romantic and fun.

They set up a phone for Viserys - Rhaenyra's father - and two of his kids to watch it, the girl and the younger boy, who were both at his house when they set up to sing happy birthday.

When the cake was placed on the table, Harwin was surprised to find it decorated with pictures of the family. All of the family, even including a photo of him playing with Luke when he was smaller, pretending he was an aeroplane, and another with him over his shoulder just a few days ago, after his son had flicked him in their fencing.

Oh.

Harwin didn't even know Rhaenyra had pictures of the kids with him.

They sang happy birthday, and he tried not to look too stupid as he pretended to sing in Valyria with them, too emotional now from seeing how everyone was working so hard in including him in everything.

"Happy birthday, Luke!" Rhaenyra's sister's celebrated happily. "We can't wait to see you next Summer!"

When one of the boys - Raylon - said something in Valyrian, it was Jace who turned around and poked him, saying something harsh with 'muña' and 'daor', and he knew he was talking about the girl.

Rhaenyra took no time in devouring the cream and blueberries he had made, getting a cup for herself as soon as they were set on the table, and he could see Daemon holding another portion just waiting for her to finish the first.

They were a good pair, and were honestly raising the kids very well.

He could see why she was so happy.

Gods, he needed to find himself a girlfriend.

"Papa!" Joff called. "Papa, help."

He turned to look at his son, and he was trying to reach the end of the table to get a cup for him too, and he could see Laenor and Daemon had also seeing.

Still, the two just nodded and pointed with their chin at him, and Harwin moved over, picking the cup and spoon for him.

"Thank you," his boy celebrated. "The table is s…"

He stopped himself and looked at it, then at Harwin, making a gesture with his hand, raising it as to something tall.

“Tall?” he suggested. “Like the opposite of short?”

Joff nodded.

“Tall,” he agreed. “Thank you!”

He smiled.

“You can ask for whatever you want.”

Joff nodded, eating his good very happily.

“Mum said you have snow!” he told him. “In your home!”

“I do,” he agreed. “Do you want to see it?”

“Can I?” he asked, sounding very excited. “I want to see the snow!”

Harwin smiled.

“I’m sure we can talk to your mama and schedule a visit.”

The room filled with the sound of music as he did, and he could see the kids already moving to the sound of it, a bit dorky but looking like they were having fun.

He was surprised when Luke didn’t even stay with his friends, rushing to the twins and taking one to dance by her hand.

Gods, he knew that face. He absolutely knew that face.

Luke looked like a puppy in love!

He sat down, and Joff leaned onto him, dancing on his own feet as he ate excitedly, and Daemon twirled Rhaenyra in the centre of the room as they joined the kids, looking like they were just out of some classic film, exhaling love in each step of them.

Joffrey - the adult - sat down by his side with a slice of pie.

“Not a dancer?” Harwin looked at him.

“Maybe later,” he shrugged. “Laenor is dacing with Baela. It reminds him of the times he would dance Laena.”

Yes, he could see that.

“So, what do you think?” Joffrey asked him. “Family holidays, hm?”

Harwin smiled.

“You know what… it went nicer than I thought it would,” he confessed.

His friend moved to him, putting his arm around his shoulder and giving him a squeeze.

“Welcome to the family,” Joffrey told him.

And for the first time in his 16 years tangled with the Targaryens and Velaryons, it finally felt real.

“Thanks,” he smiled. “I like it here.”

…

“The Christmas War” is being posted on my Patreon two weeks before it comes to Tumblr and AO3! To have early access to all of my works, subscribe to my page! It’s just $2 a month!

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#The Christmas War (HOtD) series #rhaenyra targaryen fanfiction #rhaenyra x daemon #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon targaryen fic #rhaenyra targaryen x daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen #harwin strong #harwin strong fluff #harwin strong fanfic #ser harwin strong #harwin strong fanfiction #harwin strong fic #harwin strong imagine

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witchofhimring · 9 months

Text

Being the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen

Rhaenyra Targaryen x daughter reader (platonic)

Reader can either be read as the child of Laenor, Daemon, Criston Harwin or other

-As her only daughter you are especially cherished. The moment they place you on her chest she instantly, unconditionally loves you. While she does not have favorites, you are cherished.

It was with one last agonizing push that Rhaenyras only daughter came screaming into the world. "A daughter, your Grace!" With trembling arms Rhaenyra took her daughter from the midwife. Y/n Velarion's e/c eyes opened and Rhaenyra instantly fell in love. Secretly, she had always harbored hopes of having a girl. She knew the realm prayed for a son, but deep inside Rhaenyra yearned for a girl. A daughter to love and cherish and protect her from all that she herself had suffered.

-You are absolutely doted on my your mother. She makes sure you have the best of everything. She loves to order sweets brought from all over and give them to you in elaborately decorated boxes. She has you all decked out in red and black clothing. Rhaenyra likes to do your hair and make elaborate hairdos. Whether for a special occasion or any normal day she takes great pleasure in showing off how pretty you are!

Y/n squealed in delight as Rhaenyra pulled out a box. Knowing that it held some kind of delight behind its wooden covering you wasted no time in hastily opening it. Tiny hands seized the sugar covered fruits from Dorne. The mother giggled as with great enthusiasm Y/n chomped away at them. "Remember to share them with your brothers!" Rhaenyra called out to her daughters. "Gods I love her." Rhaenyra thought.

-Because of the political situation you are heavily guarded. Your friends/ladies in waiting are carefully picked amongst Rhaenyra's closest allies. From the time you are old enough to walk she hires a personal guard to follow wherever you go. This is especially true if Otto, Alicent or Criston Cole are near. Unlike with her sons I don't see Rhaenyra letting you near your uncles. Partly because it would be seen as inappropriate but also for safety sakes.

-Princess Rhaenyra, Princess of Dragonstone, eldest child of Viserys and heir to the throne, ran in great haste down the hall. She payed no heed to the sudden stairs of people. Most of the time she would care, but not now. Not when she noticed her brother Aemond speaking with her baby girl under the Weirwood tree. She did not know his intentions and frankly, did not care. None of Otto Hightowers grandchildren would be in any position to harm her daughter. "Y/n." Rhaenyra hurried down the path to see two children quite peacefully reading a book. Aemond was the first to look up and scowled. Rhaenyra didn't like it. Even something as innocent as this could insight trouble. Gods know Otto might even consider marrying the two if he could get away with it. A perfect way to tether the Princess of Westeros to himself forever. She would never let that happen.

-Obviously you will have a dragon from day one, if there isn't an egg already placed in the cradle. She will likely want you to have a new one rather than an older one. This is mainly because she worries an older one might be too aggressive and large for tiny you to manage. Of course she will take you for flight on Syrax, high in the sky. She uses these times to bond, even going on short daytrips for fun.

If she gives you an egg:

Rhaenyra cradles the large opaque egg in her hands. It was a good size, this dragon would be healthy. It was placed right beside the infant who was roused to the waking world. Her large e/c eyes focused on the egg with such intensity that Rhaenyra could hardly believe it. Her fingers brushed against the thin hairs that had just started to sprout up. Her little Targaryen.

If you claim your own dragon:

She would have preferred Dreamfyre. That dragon was so gentle and lovely, a perfect fir for her gentle daughter. Not fucking Tessarion. Anxiously Rhaenyra waited as Y/n advanced forward. The dragon keepers were on standby. But if Tessarion became volatile then......... The great dragon moved its head. The Valyrian coming out of Y/n's trembling mouth would barely be heard over the beasts rumbling. Horrified, Rhaenyra moved to intercede. But suddenly the dragon lowered its head and Y/n's hand placed itself on its snout. "Look mom! I'm a dragonrider!"

Riding a dragon with her daughter:

At five years old Y/n mounted a dragon for the first of many times. Rhaenyra had been hesitant. Normally Targaryen's took their children on a flight during babyhood. But in her anxiety Rhaenyra waited until her daughter was slightly older. She had a small harness made for the baby and herself. Part of Rhaenyra didn't want to stay on the ground, but Y/n was a Targaryen, a Valyrian ancestry going back thousands of years. The dragons wings expanded and in a great bounding leap Syrax was in the air. Y/n's small form was shaking and Rhaenyra wrapped an arm around her. They stabilized once above the clouds. Y/n finally had calmed down. Soon, she was giggling and enjoying the height. Rhaenyra smiled.

-When it comes to betrothals Rhaenyra will wait until you are grown before any of that comes to fruition. Like her father she will let you chose. That is, up until the events of episode 7 where Vaemond makes his bid for Driftmark. Even though she will not be aggressive about it, your attention will be directed to Cregan Stark. Of course you will get the talk, and what to expect during pregnancy/childbirth. Your also likely to get a new wardrobe. This is even more expected if where your moving to (think Winterfell and Dorne) has a drastic change in weather compared to Kingslanding/Driftmark. If you do end up married then she will make frequent visits to where you live.

Everyone bellow was mingling during the Red Keeps most recent party. Everyone except for Rhaenyra and Y/n. Mother and daughter observed the happenings bellow, talking in low voices. "Have you met anyone who appeals from you?" Rhaenyra closely watched her daughters expression. Y/n's eyes skimmed the handful of eligible bachelors that a Princess of the realm could take. "Hmmmm. Uncle Aemond is looking rather appealing these days." Y/n jested. Rhaenyra snorted. None of Otto's grandchildren would ever taken her daughter to wife. Only last week Alicent had requested a possible betrothal between their two children. As far as Rhaenyra was concerned, that would only happen over her dead body. "Who is that?" Rhaenyra's eyes lit up. Now this was a much better match. "That is Cregan Stark."

Extra

What is your fathers relationship with you (excluding non cannon father)

Harwin Strong:

Like with his sons he is very close with you. Your his only daughter and so he is very protective. He will hold you as a baby and try to be there for everything. First words, steps and your progression into adulthood. He likes to carry you on his back during his time off. Even though you are a girl you will likely be taught to fight if you so chose. Although that will be in secret. I think that as the daughter of Rhaenyra and Harwin you will feel like you all are a great big family.

Leanor Velarion:

Your his only biological child. Because of this the family dynamic will change, with Laenor being far more involved with his family.1* Rhaenyra and Rhaenys will push hard for him to be a good father, the best he can be. Its a rocky start. But he gets better and does his best. Your time together is usually one on one with Laenor. Stuff like taking you on dragonrides and going to Driftmark.

Criston Cole:

This one is a doozy because he can't be sure until you are older that your his (given that Rhaenyra's likely got involved with Harwin shortly after marriage). But once he finds out....wow. Because as much as he loathes Rhaenyra he can't bring himself to hate the daughter. He will, very subtly, try to ingratiate himself to you. This will be sneaky and behind Rhaenyra's back. Of course Alicent will get wind of this making Otto aware. He will absolutely try to use this to his advantage. This of course puts Criston in a very difficult position.

Daemon Targaryen:

This pregnancy takes place shortly before the marriage to Laenor, meaning Rhaenyra was pregnant although very early on. I have a feeling Daemon might not even know the baby is his, thinking it is Harwin Strong's. So he as nothing to do with you until the funeral of his second wife. It was there that Rhaenyra reveals he has another daughter. The reason he was not informed earlier is because she was worried someone might get ahold of the note and Daemon was in Pentos all this time. This revelation will be surprised. When your parents marry he will take an interest in your education. You are expected to be an example of pure Valyrian, perfecting Valyrian and being a dragon writer. The two of you will sometimes read together and he likes to tell stories of his adventures.

Note: I'm gonna make one for Alicent and maybe Aemond. If you guys want me to make any more of these then please feel free to requested☺

#rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon imagine #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra x daemon #rhaenyra x harwin #rhaenyra x criston #laenor velaryon #daemon targaryen #criston cole #harwin strong #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader

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aemondsbabe · 1 month

Text

What is Owed

summary: the gold cloaks raid the brothel, you make a deal to secure your freedom

pairing: harwin strong x lyseni!reader x daemon targaryen

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, reader is briefly described as having lyseni features (pale hair, purple eyes) but no other physical descriptors are used, mentions of sex work, reader is a sex worker, breast/nipple play, dirty talk, double penetration, piv sex, anal sex, anal fingering, regular fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, double creampie oh jeez, oral (m receiving), handjobs, hands on necks, "whore" is used both as a pet name and degradingly we love innovation, big hulking men idk, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 7.7k

a/n: so sorry for being away! wasn't intentional, just busy with life things! but god i missed writing and i'm so happy to finally have this one done! daddies galore!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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A barely concealed sigh of disgust leaves your lips, which remain pulled into a tight, docile smile as some lord, whose name you couldn’t be bothered to remember, finally finishes over your bare chest with a beastly grunt, his hips twitching as you stroke him through it.

Took his sweet time, you think as you rise to your feet and quickly grab one of the spare cloths stashed in the nearby vanity to wipe his spend from your chest. Depositing the cloth in a nearby basket, you take a moment to right your dress and run your fingers through your pale hair. Finally, you turn back around and eye the man still lying across the ornate chaise catching his breath.

You glance at his trousers, still haphazardly piled on the floor, before checking him once more, smirking when you see that his eyes are still closed. Carefully, you make your way over to his trousers and kneel once more as you grab for the heap of fabric; keeping your eyes on him, you swiftly rifle through the pockets and smile triumphantly as you pull a few coins from one – one golden dragon, three copper stars, and a half-penny.

Grinning, you toss the man’s trousers back onto the floor before quickly grabbing the small coin purse you keep tucked away beneath the chaise, way back toward the wall and covered by the ends of one of the red satin curtains that cover the windows of the brothel – the perfect hiding spot until you can move them to the more secure lock-box beneath your bed.

“Mmph,” the lord sighs, stirring finally just as you drop the last coin into your pouch. Shoving it back beneath the chaise, you quickly rise to your feet with a placid smile just as he finishes stretching.

“Some wine for you, my lord,” you smile, keeping your voice light and sweet in just the way the Madam likes as you offer him a goblet, “To replenish your strength.”

“Yes, yes,” the older man mumbles, paying you no mind as he busies himself with the buttons on his tunic, “Fetch me my trousers,” he commands, brushing you off with a wave of his hand.

“Of course, my lord,” you nod, teeth gritting as you set the goblet back down before grabbing his blasted trousers with an eye roll. He all but snatches them from you with a pompous little hum, not even looking in your direction. Once again behaving as the Madam demands, you merely stand by while he redresses, hands clasped demurely in front of you as you wait to be of service once again, or, hopefully, to kindly escort him to the door.

You don’t mind working in the brothel, not really, especially knowing that it could be much worse – you could’ve ended up as one of the many beggars that line the streets of Flea Bottom or, more dreadful still, stuck as a slave back home. It was luck, really, that brought you to the brothel in the first place, back when you were still stumbling half-blind with grief around the fish market by the docks only to be plucked up by chance by a few of the girls from the brothel. They’d brought you back here, promising that the Madam would take you in, that you’d earn great money with your exotic looks.

One of those things had been true – the Madam was very happy to take you in. Technically, you do also make great money… for the brothel; only a small percentage is ever paid back to the workers and, for your circumstances, that just won’t do. Which is precisely why you sometimes took a little tip for yourself, especially if your client for the evening was of higher status; it’s not as if they’d miss, or even notice, a few missing coins.

As far as you’re concerned, it’s a flawless system.

You’re brought out of your short reverie by another sigh from the lord as he polishes off the goblet of wine you’d offered some moments ago and once more, your lips quirk up into a pleasing smile, “Leaving so soon, my lord?”

“Mm,” he merely grumbles before flashing you a lecherous grin, his yellowed teeth making your stomach turn, “Worry not, girl, I’ll be back before the tournament’s over.”

“Wonderful,” you sigh, grimacing internally as you make a half-step toward the arched doorway, “I’ll see you out.” Blessedly, the lord makes no more of a fuss and lets you lead him to the entryway, sparing you one final nod before slipping down the dimly lit street.

You remain in the doorway for a moment more, arms crossed over your chest as you gaze outside, relishing the feel of the cool night air against your skin. After a moment, though, your eyes narrow when you realize the streets seem much quieter than usual. At this hour, there would normally be more people about – some returning from a long day of work, others already stumbling around drunk, but tonight there were only a few scattered people roaming about.

“Strange…,” you murmur to yourself, absentmindedly running a finger over the gold chain around your neck, your fingers brushing over the small key hanging from it. Sparing a glance up at the Dragonpit looming on the nearby hill, you finally close the door with a shrug. Returning to the room you’d serviced the lord in, you glance around quickly to make sure the coast is clear before you retrieve the small coin purse from beneath the chaise, smiling at the weight of it as you carry it swiftly back to your bed, to your little lockbox, wholly unaware of the envious gaze on your back.

“Commander on the floor!” One of the Gold Cloaks shouts as Daemon prowls into the hall, a self-righteous smirk on his lips as the drum of fists against chest plates ceases.

“When I took command of the Watch, you were stray mongrels,” he growls, dark violet eyes surveying the men around him, “Starving and undisciplined!”

He pauses for a second, heart pounding with the heady sensation of power as he prepares to do what his dear older brother cannot – punish. Too long have the streets of King’s Landing, of his city gone to the Seven Hells; controlled by crime and near-anarchy when they should be controlled by him, by the dread of his authority.

“Now, you’re a pack of hounds,” his voice rises as he speaks, as he breathes life into his men, “You’re sated and honed for the hunt!”

Howls erupt around the hall, making the prince’s lips stretch into a vicious grin – his men were ready, ready to rule with the iron fist Viserys lacked.

“My brother’s city has fallen into squalor!” He says, pacing down the room, “Crime of every breed has been allowed to thrive!”

His chainmail clinks with each of his heavy steps, pride swelling in his chest as many of the soldiers nod their heads along with him. It was true, after all, everyone knew it. Viserys may have the crown, the damned throne, but the dragonfire in his veins had run cold long ago. The blood in Daemon’s burns hot, however; centuries of power and glory fuel his fires, flowing through him like the lava in the Dragonmont.

“No longer,” he grunts, pausing at the end of the hall, the silken cloth draped over his shoulders shining in the light of the torches lining the room as he turns to eye his men, smirking at the blood lust evident on their faces, “Beginning tonight, King’s Landing will learn to fear the color gold!”

A loud bang wakes you sometime later and you sit up with a small gasp, clutching the linen bed sheets. Whipping your head around, you can see the dark night sky still looms heavily over the city through the slats in the window – you must’ve not been asleep very long.

Another cry from somewhere outside finally gets you moving and you quickly wrap yourself in an embroidered silk robe, tying it loosely around your waist as you move closer to the door, your ears perked at the sound of frantic whispers. Poking your head through the beaded curtain that separates the sleeping quarters from one of the hallways, you finally spot a familiar face in the dim candlelight.

“Genna!” You whisper, waving one of the other working girls over, “What’s going on, what’s happened?”

“Gold Cloaks!” She hisses, working quickly to stuff an armful of dresses into a small bag, “They’ve gone mad, they’re rounding up damn near everyone out there!”

“Gone mad?” You echo, brows pinching together as you look toward the entrance, another muffled cry from outside catching your attention, along with the sounds of metal clanging against metal.

Genna merely nods as she practically shoves past you to get into the room before quickly loading her bag with various perfumes, oils, and loose jewelry from one of the vanities, “One of the regulars came by, woke everyone up,” she explains as she quickly ties the bag off, “They’re taking in anyone who’s so much as nicked an apple from the market.”

Your eyes go wide at her words, head ringing as blood rushes to your cheeks. Thankfully, she seems too busy to notice you glance warily at your bed, knowing your lockbox with weeks worth of lifted coins is tucked neatly below it.

“I’m telling you, if you’ve pocketed even one extra groat, you’re as good as dead,” She shakes her head as she slings her bag over one shoulder, “Get out while you can, yeah? I think they’re a ways away st–”

A deafening crash from the front of the building cuts her off, the both of you shrieking. Your heart pounds in your chest at the sound of men’s voices; yours and Genna’s heads swivel to face one another at the same time before you both glance at the large wardrobe in the corner of the room – big enough for someone to climb inside of.

It seems you both have the same idea at the same time, each of you scrambling toward the cupboard. She’s a second behind you, though, her hefty bag slowing her by an instant and she yelps as you pull the wooden doors closed, pinching one of her fingers. You push yourself as far back in the cramped space as you can, trying to tuck yourself behind the hanging coats and dresses.

Finally, you stay as still as possible, chest heaving as your back presses into the wood behind you. You hear a muffled curse from Genna before she shrieks as heavy footsteps flood into the room.

“Shut it, whore!” A guard yells and the sound of a harsh slap makes you cover your mouth with a hand.

“Careful!” A different voice shouts as more heavy footsteps sound outside, “She’s a woman, not a shadowcat,” the new voice admonished, “Take her outside with the others, then go ahead and take the wagons to the dungeons below the Keep. No harm is to come to any of them, understood?”

“But the Commander sai–”

“I don’t give a shit what the Commander said,” the man all but growled, “I am your superior still, soldier, you take orders from me; I’ll worry about him. The night’s gotten out of hand as it is.”

“Yes, Captain,” the first man grumbles after a second. Heavy footsteps sound for an instant before Genna shrieks again, “I said shut it, whore!” The man’s voice is a bit muffled this time, further away.

“Tell the Commander I’m searching in here!” The second voice calls out gruffly; silently, you curse.

You hold yourself as still as possible as the muffled sounds of opening drawers and cabinets sound from outside the wardrobe, slowly but surely getting closer to you. Your heart leaps into your throat as the wardrobe doors are tugged open, yet you hold yourself still and squeeze your eyes closed, a naïve part of you hoping the soldier would just overlook you.

Of course that doesn’t happen.

“I do see you, you know,” the gruff voice sighs, his eyes on you, “Come on, out,” he commands.

Finally, you open your eyes and peek at him through gaps of fabric, warily taking in his appearance. Your eyes widen at his size, truly a mountain of a man, with curly dark hair and matching dark eyes, clad in metal plate armor with a familiar golden cloak around his shoulders. The look in his eyes is neutral, if not sympathetic, but you still don’t move, rooted to the spot.

With another sigh, he shakes his head at you and beckons you forward with a wave of his hand, “Please make this easy.”

When you still don’t move after a few more seconds, the man grumbles and reaches in, shoving past various articles of clothing until he grabs at your forearm and pulls you, stumbling, from the wardrobe.

“Let me go!” You cry, struggling in his grasp like a fish on a line, “Let me go, damn you! I haven’t done anything!” You shriek loudly, uselessly kicking your feet as he holds you steady at arms length.

“Easy!” The dark-haired man shouts over your screeches, “If you’ll just calm–”

“What’s this?” Another voice questions from the doorway, making both of you pause. Your eyes widen when you see the man, dressed in the same gold cloaked armor as the one holding you, though this one has purple eyes and pale white hair cascading over his shoulders, complete with a familiar face you’d seen before in the shadowy corners of the brothel, “Is that her?”

Her? You balk, glancing between the two men, They were looking for me?

The brunette stays silent for a moment, bushy brows furrowed together as he looks between you and the prince, brown eyes meeting two sets of purple, “She’s not… one of his, is she?” He asks quietly, only confusing you more.

Prince Daemon merely chuckles and shakes his head as he traipses toward you with a smirk. “Ohh, no, definitely not,” he mutters, squeezing your cheeks in one large, gloved hand as he forces your face to lift up toward his, “No, my dearest brother would never dare betray his wife so.”

He tilts your head from side to side, studying your face carefully, before making you face him once again as the other guard keeps hold of your arm, “What’s your name, girl?”

You glance between the men, caged in between their large frames, before finally telling them, each syllable merely a whisper on your lips.

The prince repeats it with a smug smile, the sound of your name on his tongue makes your head spin. “Ah, see, just as I thought,” he smirks, a pleased twinkle in his violet eyes, “A Lyseni whore.”

The other man merely grunts, though you don’t miss the way his dark brown eyes flit over your form appreciatively. Daemon moseys around the room, eyes scanning over the row of matching twin beds lined against one wall. “Which is yours?”

“I… I don’t sleep in here, my pr–”

“Lying won’t do you any good, you know,” he smirks, “We’ve had eyes and ears all over the city for months, including here. So, I’ll ask again. Which bed?”

You hesitate, only for a moment, before nodding at the bed to the far right. Your mind reels as Daemon begins his search, Someone was spying in here? One of the other girls?

“Aha!” He says after only a moment and your heart sinks as he pulls your small wooden lockbox out from its hiding spot. He drops it down onto your bed with a gloating smirk and you glance up just in time to see one of the prince’s pale hands reaching for the key at your neck, easily tugging it off the chain as you gasp and jerk once more in the other man’s grasp. “That was a gift from my father!”

“Daemon, please,” the other man sighs tiredly, scrambling to hold you in place once more, “Was that truly necessary?”

“Don’t start with me, Strong,” the prince huffs, moving to unlock the box, “You’ve spoiled my night of fun enough as is.” A low whistle sounds from his lips as he flips open the lid, quickly shuffling through the various coins, small pieces of jewelry, and other trinkets you’ve managed to swipe.

“Seems we got the right one after all,” the man holding your arm, the one apparently called Strong, murmurs, nodding toward you.

“Of course we got the right bloody one,” Daemon scoffs, violet eyes rolling in his head, “I only know of two Lyseni whores in this city and it certainly isn’t the other one.”

“Mysaria!” You whisper lowly, eyes widening as puzzle pieces begin clicking together in your mind.

The prince merely laughs, looking between you and the other knight as if you’ve just told some hilarious joke. “Finally figured it out, eh?” He teases, sauntering over to where you’re still being held.

As soon as he’s in reach, the guard holding you grabs your other arm as well, holding them both behind your back as if you’d be stupid enough to try anything against two Gold Cloaks. Even if you did manage to free yourself, what would be the point in running now?

“Seems we have a clever whore on our hands, Strong,” Daemon drawls, grinning when you flinch as he grips your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his once more, “And a pretty one too. You must earn enough to pay your keep, no? A little exotic flower like you is bound to get plucked at often enough.”

You wait for him to continue speaking but he doesn’t, he simply waits, eyes boring into you as if he’s trying to read your thoughts. For all you know, he can – you’ve heard whispers around King’s Landing of how the Targaryens were supposedly closer to Gods than men.

“I suppose so, my prince,” you all but squeak a moment later, unable to bear the intense silence any longer.

“Then tell me,” you gasp as he suddenly turns your head, directing your gaze toward the small wooden lockbox strewn open on your bed, “Why does a well paid whore need to steal? Hm?”

“I wasn’t stealing for me!” You blurt, chest heaving.

“Then why do it?” You startle slightly as the knight behind you speaks, his grip on your wrists loosening enough for you to relax some in his grasp. For someone so gruff and intimidating, there was a distinctive warmth to his voice – a soft, kind lilt.

With a sigh, you glance between the two men before speaking, “I send it back to my family, once every other moon or so.”

“You send money to your family,” Daemon echos, purple eyes narrowed suspiciously, “In Lys, I presume?”

You simply nod, your eyes downcast as the men share a look over your head.

“Why do you need to send them money?” The Strong guard asks as he releases your arms, brown eyes watching you closely.

“My father was a merchant,” you begin, nervously fiddling with the tie on your robe, “He would travel to Volantis a few times a year to buy the more exotic goods shipped in from cities further east, from the other side of Slaver’s Bay, to bring back to sell in Lys. He could get a better price for them at home, Westerosi ships rarely go any further than our ports and they were willing to pay more.”

“And then, one time he left for Volantis and… never came back,” you continue, your voice only a raspy whisper as the back of your throat tightens, “We received word some months later that there had been a slave rebellion in the city and that my father had been killed in it. So, now I send money back so that my mother and siblings are able to pay for our house, because in Lys, if you can no longer afford your land you –”

“You risk becoming a slave yourself,” the brunette knight finishes, sighing sympathetically when you nod.

“How very touching,” the prince mutters, though you can see pity clouding his eyes as well.

“Perhaps we should just let her go,” the Strong guard says after a moment, making you whip your head toward him in shock, “She isn’t a danger to anyone.”

“She may not be,” Daemon says, crossing his arms over his broad chest, “But a drunken, disgruntled lord who’s discovered his gold missing certainly is.”

The brown haired man hums thoughtfully at his reasoning and both of them eye you for a moment, silence falling over the room.

Shifting your weight from foot to foot, you silently reason that you have two options – convince them to free you or wind up in a cell beneath the Red Keep. Being locked away simply isn’t an option, not for you, as that would mean being unable to send money to your family and although petty theft doesn’t carry the penalty of death, you know that if anything were to happen to them, you’d wish it did.

Gathering your courage, you look between the two men, eyeing them up and down. “Perhaps,” you start, loosening the tie on your robe just enough to bare your cleavage just a bit more, “I could convince you that I’m worth much more as a free woman?”

“Little minx,” the prince rasps, stepping toward you and grasping at your jaw once more, “Maybe you’ll prove useful after all,” he says cryptically.

Before you have time to dwell on his words, he releases you and busies himself with quickly unbuckling his plate armor, letting the chest and torso pieces noisily clank on the floor as they fall against a pile of gold cloth.

You gasp as Daemon grabs you by the hips and pulls you to him, pressing himself against you tightly as his rough hands roam over your soft curves. You can’t help but giggle as an appreciative grunt leaves his lips, violet eyes darkening as they meet yours.

“Daemon,” the other guard starts with a sigh, hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

“Come, ser Strong,” the prince growls, hastily turning you to face the brown eyed man. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you look him up and down, the corners of your lips quirking up into a small smile when you see the flush on his cheeks, “It would be rude to turn down what our little mouse is so generously offering, hm?” The feel of Daemon’s hands on your body makes your eyes flutter closed for just a second, only to snap back open when he roughly grabs at your breasts just as his teeth press against the column of your throat, eliciting a soft cry from you.

“O-Oh!”

“See? Listen to that,” Daemon says, words muffled against your skin, “She likes it, don’t you?”

You quickly nod your head yes, head clouded by the feel of the prince’s length as it presses against the small of your back, hard enough to be felt through the trousers they wear under their armor. He chuckles as he suddenly cups your center, the silky fabric of your robe pressing against your already aching flesh, and nips at your neck once more before releasing you.

“Go,” he murmurs, giving you a gentle push toward the other knight, “Make the stubborn bore more comfortable.”

Biting your lip, you approach the man with a little grin. Standing before him, you move your hand to his shoulder, to the buckles of his plate armor.

“Is this okay?”

All he gives you is a curt nod, but it’s enough for you. With another reassuring smile, you pull at the leather buckles, unstrapping them one by one until he grabs at his chest plate and sets it on the floor, more gentle with it than Daemon had been.

Pausing for a second, you cock your head to the side curiously. “I know him,” you say with a nearly bashful smile, nodding your head at the prince, “But what do I call you, Ser?”

“Harwin, my lady. Just Harwin.”

Still sensing hesitance from him, you decide to be bold and gently take one of his hands and place it on one of your breasts, peering up into his deep brown eyes all the while. Your lips turn up into a pleased smile at the low groan that rumbles from his chest and you marvel at how warm his touch is through your robe, though before you have time to linger on it further, Harwin surges forward and presses his lips against yours.

You still for a second, not having expected such boldness from a man who had held so much back thus far. Getting your wits about you, you quickly respond in kind and move your lips with his, leaning into him a bit more as you grab at his shoulders. A pleased hum leaves your lips as his hands begin exploring you, seeming to grab and knead at any bits of you he can like he’s been starved for touch for years.

He groans into the kiss once more when you nip at his bottom lip, prompting him to slip his tongue into your mouth, which earns a small whimper from you as one of your hands slips down from his shoulder to rest on his toned, muscular chest.

The sudden feel of another presence at your back makes you jump slightly – you’d gotten so wrapped up in Harwin that you’d nearly forgotten that Daemon was still in the room, though the knowledge that he’d been watching the two of you sends an excited zing up your spine.

“Oh!” You gasp as he begins nipping and biting at your neck once more, soothing the marks he leaves behind with his tongue. Your lips move against Harwin’s as another pair of hands begins exploring you, impatiently tugging at the tie around your waist until your robe falls open. A whine leaves you as the knight’s hands immediately cup your bare breasts, kneading them and savoring the way your soft skin feels against his palms. At the same time, Daemon nearly growls as he presses himself against your ass, grinding his length against you as his hands grip at your hips and waist.

“I believe you said something about convincing us?” He mutters against your neck, grinning when you pull away from Harwin and meet his gaze as you turn to look over your shoulder, brow raising when you see he’d taken the time to strip off his tunic at some point.

“Quite right, my prince,” you grin, looking between the two men once more before slipping off your robe, leaving you bare as it pools on the floor. Your cheeks flush at their appreciative groans, skin prickling at the way you can practically feel their eyes on you.

With another little breath, you lower yourself to your knees between them and immediately skim your hands over their strong thighs. Ever eager, Daemon quickly unties his trousers, a predatory gleam in his purple eyes as he frees his hardening length.

You bite your bottom lip at the sight of it and quickly reach up to wrap a hand around it, marveling at the way it hardens steadily under your touch. “I think you’ll find I can be very persuasive,” you murmur, softly licking over the tip before sealing your lips around it and suckling gently while you gaze up at him, batting your lashes enticingly.

“Fuck,” he breathes, long fingers threading into your hair as his head tips back. You grin around him, bobbing your head while you stroke over the rest of his length with a hand, laving your tongue over the head.

Not forgetting about Harwin, you shift your gaze to him as your other hand palms his length where it presses against the rough fabric of his trousers, already hard and wanting. That seems to be the final straw for him and he scrambles to undo the ties, brown eyes glued to where your lips are wrapped around the prince’s hard cock.

Your eyes widen when his length finally springs free and you let Daemon slip from your lips as your mouth falls open. “Seven Hells,” you murmur, watching as Harwin strokes a hand over his cock, a proud smirk on his lips.

“Well now, that must be where your damn stubborn attitude comes from, Strong,” the prince teases, chest heaving as you continue stroking a hand over his length.

Unable to resist, you brush the knight’s hand away before grasping his cock in your own, heart skipping a beat as your fingers hardly touch around the girth of it. You lean over and lick up the length of him, from the base to the very tip, before taking him into your mouth, bobbing your head in the same way you did with Daemon.

It takes a few moments, but eventually you settle into a good rhythm – stroking one man’s member with your hand while you suck and lick at the others, swapping every few moments or when one of them gets impatient enough to tug you over by the hair.

It’s easy to lose yourself in the cacophonous sounds of grunts and growls above you, at the way each man’s fingers thread into your hair differently. Daemon’s grip is much rougher, more commanding, as he drags you exactly where he wants, pushing and pulling your head along his cock in an exacting rhythm.

Harwin, on the other hand, is more gentle — his tugs seeming more like suggestions than commands. Unlike the prince, he strokes over your hair gently as you attend to him, letting you set your own pace. Anytime your eyes meet his, he looks at you with awe almost, hairy chest heaving as his hips twitch, holding himself back from fucking your face in the way he wants.

Daemon has no such qualms, hasn’t the patience to resist tugging at your hair as he presses your mouth lower and lower down his cock, relishing the way you choke and sputter. His violet, half-lidded gaze sends shivers through you each time your eyes meet, the look in his eyes echoing the fierce dragon’s blood flowing in his veins.

Surprisingly, it’s Harwin that breaks first, tossing back his head with a low groan after some minutes and pulling you off of his cock.

“What—?” You scarcely get the word out before his lips are on yours once again, tongue licking into your mouth.

“Need you,” he mumbles simply, glaring as Daemon snickers behind your back. “Please,” he breathes, voice softer this time.

“You needn’t ask,” Daemon drawls, pressing himself against your side as his hands paw at your breasts, pinching and pulling at your nipples and chuckling at the way you whine, “She’s a whore.”

You roll your eyes playfully at the remark and grab Harwin’s hand, leading him toward one of the bigger rooms of the brothel. “That may be true, but perhaps I like a man with some decorum, my prince,” you call over your shoulder, chuckling as Daemon follows hot on your heels.

You lead the men to one of the fancier rooms, one laden with imported ornate rugs and silken lamps that give it a warm red glow, complete with a giant circular daybed with plenty of room for all three of you. After all, if the brothel is empty, why not take advantage of it?

Putting on your very best show, you push at Harwin’s hairy chest until he sits back on the edge of the bed before walking over to him with a sly smirk, hips swaying enticingly. A chuckle leaves your lips when his eyes widen as you climb on his lap, your thighs bracketing his.

“Is this ok –” His lips are on yours before you can finish the question; the both of you move a bit more desperately now, though his touches are no less attentive as his hands skim over your waist and up your back.

Suddenly, you’re tugged away from Harwin’s lips with a little gasp as one of Daemon’s hands laces through the hair at the crown of your head, drawing you back until your spine is arched.

“Forgetting someone?” He teases, lightly wrapping his other hand around your neck in a way that sends pleasant tingles down to your already aching center. You shake your head no, teeth biting into your bottom lip as Harwin’s cock twitches between your legs.

“Never, my prince,” you murmur, smiling into the kiss as Daemon presses his lips against yours. His movements are more urgent than Harwin’s and it soon dissolves into a battle of teeth and tongues; you mewl into his mouth when the hand around your neck slides down your chest and palms eagerly at one of your breasts.

Though they’re closed, your eyes roll back as Harwin leans forward and begins mouthing at the side of your neck, his wavy hair tickling your shoulder. Soon enough, both men are pawing greedily at your chest, making your head spin – both of their touches are so different: where Daemon is rough, pinching at your nipple until you gasp and whine into his kiss, Harwin is gentle and uses his thumb to tease at the other until he feels you shivering on his lap.

The knight surprises you once more when his touch skirts down over your stomach before his fingers run through your folds, making you jerk from Daemon’s grasp with a moan. Your cheeks flush slightly at the sight of the little victorious grin on Harwin’s face as he expertly circles your pearl, watching closely at the way his touch makes you squirm and grind down against his hard length.

“That’s it,” he husks, grunting as your grasp tightens on his shoulders, nails digging into his lightly tanned skin, “Need to warm you up, don’t I?”

Beside you, Daemon scoffs as he stands straight once more, fingers still threaded through your hair. “Please,” he huffs, sliding closer to where you sit on the knight’s lap, until his length is practically brushing against your cheek, “Whores don’t need warming, Strong. You may as well take her.”

Before you have time to so much as register the jab, Harwin slips a thick finger inside you in the same instance that Daemon manhandles his cock into your waiting mouth, muffling your whimpers. Both men growl as they take you, the knight’s finger fucking easily into your wet channel as the prince’s length slides against your tongue once more.

You can hardly do more than ragdoll in their grasp, mewling while Harwin fingers you open, adding a second digit after a moment and crooking them in a way that makes your hips rut eagerly into his touch while Daemon takes from you as he pleases, fucking into your throat with loud growls and grunts.

Below you, Harwin groans as he easily presses a third finger into your heat, watching you carefully as he does and smirking when you show no signs of discomfort. “Think you’re ready for me,” he murmurs, chuckling when you nod your head as best as you can. As desperate as you are to be filled properly, you can’t help but let out a little petulant whine as he pulls his fingers from you.

“Patience,” he grunts, shifting you on his lap enough to reach between your bodies and fist his length, grinning at the way you squirm eagerly as he runs the head through your slick folds. His chest reverberates under your palms when he growls as he finally grabs at your hips and pulls you down steadily over his thick cock, half-lidded eyes staring down at where you both connect, “Fuck, there you go.”

You pull away from Daemon with a loud gasp, sucking in a lungful of air, chest heaving as your walls pulse around the knight, savoring the way his stretches you open. “Gods!” You cry, wriggling in his hold as you grind against him, your hips moving of their own accord.

Daemon huffs, annoyed, and tries dragging you back onto his cock a few times to no avail, quickly becoming irritated at the way you mindlessly clench your jaw closed each time Harwin’s cock presses against the sensitive spot within you.

“Poor little whore,” the prince sighs exasperatedly, once again tugging your head back until your eyes meet his, “Too distracted, hm?”

You open your lips to reply, only to gasp dazedly as Harwin thrusts up into you from below, muscular thighs flexing under your own. “Give her a moment,” he grunts, gripping your hips to guide you over his length.

The prince merely tsks, pulling at your hair again until your eyes pop open; a shiver goes through you at the smirk that graces his lips, as if he knows something you don’t. “Tell me,” he starts, carding his long fingers through your hair, “Have you ever taken two cocks at once?”

“N – fuck!” You gasp, eyes rolling back briefly as Harwin ruts up into you quickly, evidently excited by the idea, “N-No.”

“Hmm,” Daemon hums, smirk only widening, “Then I know just the way to get your attention.”

He moves away from you quickly, letting your head flop back uselessly as he walks swiftly to a small cabinet in the corner of the room where the Madam keeps a small stock of massage oils and lotions. You straighten just in time to watch as he stalks back over to you and Harwin, a vial of oil in hand. “I trust you have at least some experience with this, yes?” He questions, letting out a pleased hum when you nod.

The two men share a look between them and you mewl as Harwin lays back against the day bed, pulling you with him until you’re lying against his chest, making you gasp as the change in angle presses his length squarely against the most sensitive spot within you.

“Hold her steady,” Daemon murmurs behind you, uncorking the little bottle of oil.

The knight grunts when you tighten around him and one of his hands abandons its hold on your hip to cup one of your cheeks, his touch surprisingly delicate for a man of his stature. “Excited?” He questions, brown eyes studying your face carefully.

Any reply dies on your lips in lieu of an eager gasp when you feel the prince’s presence behind you, his hips nearly touching your rear as he slots himself between Harwin’s legs. Still, you nod your head earnestly, sending pearlescent hair cascading over your shoulders to pool on the knight’s chest.

Harwin’s chest rumbles with a satisfied hum, though you’re left gasping at the feel of one of Daemon’s hands deftly parting your arse cheeks, swiftly followed by massage oil being drizzled between them, filling the room with the scent of lavender. When you jolt slightly at the feel of a finger skirting over your entrance, the prince is quick to reprimand you with a sharp slap to the rear, leaving your skin tingling in its wake.

“You’re going to be good for us?” Harwin questions, drawing your attention back to him as he smooths a thumb over your cheekbone.

“Y-Yes, yes,” you nod listlessly, breaths staggered as Daemon fingers you open, expertly preparing you. Again, you earn a pleased hum from the man below you.

The next few moments pass in a blur – your head spins as the prince readies you and Harwin placates you all the while with gentle caresses and kisses, even snaking a hand between your bodies to rub at your aching pearl.

Finally, Daemon seems satisfied and pulls his fingers from you before slotting himself against you, quickly slicking up his cock with more of the oil before pressing the head against your opening, grinning smugly when you press back against him.

“Fuck, there we go,” he rasps, carefully sliding his length into you until his hips meet your backside.

A high, whining keen is pulled from your lungs at the stretch, tingles shooting up your spine and making you shudder at the feel of being this filled. You can do little more but gasp, pinned between two muscular bodies, as the men start to move. The feel of it is like none other, a constant push and pull as they thrust in and out of you in tandem.

“G-Gods, fuck!” You finally cry, managing to suck in a lungful of air as your nails dig into Harwin’s chest.

The knight beneath you isn’t faring much better than you are, a near constant stream of deep grunts and groans leaving his lips as he feels you tighten on his cock. “By the Seven, you feel divine,” he mumbles, making you cry out as he pulls you to him, strong hands encircling your waist as he mouths at your shoulder, biting at your skin.

Above you, Daemon’s violet eyes remain fixed on your ass, savoring the way it bounces each time his hips smack against it, watching as his length spears into you again and again. “What a good little whore,” he grunts, words short and clipped as he clenches his jaw. A stuttered moan is pulled from you as he grabs at your backside, fingers do doubt leaving bruises in their wake as he gropes you, “Taking us so well.”

Your muscles tense at the praise as your high threatens to overwhelm you, looming in a small pit in your belly that’s growing bigger and bigger with each passing second. Your walls tighten around Harwin again, making him hiss beneath you.

“Gonna, Gods, I –” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as the knight bullies the sensitive spot within you, pounding against it with each rough thrust, making your words die on your tongue.

Thankfully, Harwin understands perfectly, balancing on that thin precipice himself – the cacophonous litany of your moans and whines along with the lewd, wet sounds of their cocks plunging into you again and again only serving to push him further to his own end.

“That’s it,” the knight rasps, grabbing your chin with one hand and directing your attention toward him once more, “Go on, peak, let me feel it.”

His command, along with another hard smack to your rear from Daemon, send you hurtling over the edge with a sharp, loud cry. You lose all sense between them, muscles clenching and relaxing rhythmically as your whole body seems to erupt into flame.

The gorgeous look on your face, along with the steady pulse of your walls around him, finish Harwin as well. A deep groan, complementary to your own high-pitched whines, is all but punched from his chest as his length twitches within you, painting your walls with his spend.

As your peak slowly settles, like waves receding at low tide, you’re left gasping, clinging to Harwin as Daemon still thrusts wildly into you, chasing his own high. Desperate to feel you clench around him once more, the prince reaches around, over your hip, and his greedy fingers quickly find your bud.

“Oh!” You gasp, squirming in the knight’s grasp as the prince’s fingers roughly rub against your pearl, forcibly dragging you right back to the edge you’d just fallen from.

“Come on,” Daemon grunts, tugging you up by the shoulder until your back presses against his chest, deep, vicious grunts filling your ear, “One more, little whore, fucking do it for me.”

You scramble in his hold, lips parting in a silent cry as your muscles jerk in sharp, uncoordinated movements. Unable to extract yourself from his hold, the overstimulation finally gives way to blinding pleasure once more and you peak with a loud, piercing yelp.

Daemon grunts behind you, pleased, as your walls all but force a high from him as well. He thrusts into you a few more times, groaning at the feel of your slick coating his fingers and pooling between your bodies. Finally, he lets go, grumbling low words in a language you don’t understand as he fills you.

The only sounds in the near empty brothel is the sound of staggered pants as the three of you catch your breaths, content to do little more than lie in a heap for a few moments.

It’s Daemon that moves first, pulling himself from you with a muted grunt before swaggering over to a small vanity, pulling up and tying his trousers as he goes.

Harwin soothes you with gentle touches as he pulls away, keenly aware of the way you wince at certain movements, overly sensitive now. “Are you okay?” He asks, voice gentler now as he surveys your body, “Nothing hurts?”

You can’t help but chuckle at his concern, so unused to men caring for you once they finish. “I’m fine, I assure you,” your lips quirk into a smile as you soothe his worries, a little sigh leaving your lips as you settle back against the silken sheets that cover the daybed.

“Here,” Daemon grunts with indifference as he tosses a clean cloth at you, more than familiar with the layout of the place, “To clean yourself.”

You huff softly and roll your eyes playfully before grabbing the small towel and standing to wipe spend and extra oil from your skin, making a mental note to heat water for a proper bath as soon as the men leave.

It’s then that it occurs to you that they may not let you stay, what if even this wasn’t enough to secure your freedom, to get them to overlook your transgressions?

“So,” you start, discarding the cloth in a laundry basket by the vanity before turning and facing the men, surprised to find Harwin’s eyes already on you, “Forgive and forget, yes? The debt has been paid, etcetera?”

They share a look as they dress themselves, Daemon loosely pulling on his armor, opting to tuck most of it beneath an arm, though Harwin takes the time to fasten his properly.

“Oh, I think you’ve more than convinced us to spare you, little minx,” the prince drawls, eyes roving over your still nude form as he approaches you and takes your chin between two long fingers, “As for your debt, well…”

You grin as he trails off, two pairs of purple eyes sliding over to Harwin.

“There’s still the interest to consider,” he murmurs with a little chuckle, dark eyes sparkling with mirth.

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

736 notes · View notes

imagines-all-day-everyday · 2 years

Text

insolence

pairing: harwin strong x reader

synposis: the commander of the city watch's unexpected departure from king's landing prompts a long overdue confession to the handmaiden of princess rhaenyra.

warnings: angst, fluff, swearing

notes: justice for harwin, our baby who deserved better and more than 10 minutes of screen time <3

"There was an incident at the training yard today. Involving the commander and Ser Criston."

*yn*'s body froze, her hand hovering over the chalices as the words slithered into her ears.

"What kind of incident?"

She straightened up and placed the pitcher of wine down before the cup could overflow. Her knuckles bone white as she chaperoned the two glasses of wine over to the table placed in between the princess and her husband.

"The kind where Ser Harwin nearly beat Ser Criston to a pulp."

*yn* had to use all of her willpower to not drop the gold goblets at the princess's words. Surely there had to be some explanation, some misunderstanding of sorts.

"Seven hells, whatever for?" Laenor's words were slurred, his tone high pitched. Drunk.

"For the same reason the Queen dragged us up to her room when Joffrey was born."

*yn* could feel Laenor's eyes burning into her as she placed the goblets down on the table.

"The vile accusations are circling us husband. On all sides."

Rhaenyra's tone was firm but her face was ever expressionless. One that was impossible to read. Forever wearing a mask that *yn* rarely ever saw removed. Some never did.

"I wish to speak to my wife in private."

*yn* turned to Laenor and curtseyed quickly.

"Of course your-"

"*yn* has served me for many years, she is well aware of the rumours spread about us. We can speak openly in front of her." Rhanerya gestured to her handmaiden lazily, her piercing eyes never leaving her husband as she spoke.

"I am not asking this time."

*yn* swallowed and glanced between the pair. Neither were paying her any attention, their gazes solely fixed on each other, daring the other to blink. Neither wanted to back down.

Before *yn* even had time to fix her anxious expression, Rhaenyra's stare was on *yn*. Rhaenyra's eyes glided over her features, *yn* could practically feel her deciphering every micro-expression etched into her skin.

If Rhaenyra sensed *yn*'s anxiety, she did not reveal it. Instead she curtly nodded and sent her a tight lipped smile. It was more than most people ever got.

"You may go, *yn*."

"Of course princess." *yn* curtseyed. "I will be back to help put the boys to bed."

"No need, me and Laenor can manage tonight."

"But-"

"-That will be all *yn*." Rhaenyra's tone was gentle but firm as she cut *yn* off before she could protest.

*yn* knew what that tone meant. Now was not the time to argue with her or question her commands. Rhaenyra had always treated *yn* with respect and kindness, almost as if they were friends, but she was still a Targaryen. The future queen.

This time *yn* merely nodded and curtseyed before hastily making her way to the door.

"Oh and *yn*." Rhaenyra's voice stopped her from curling her fingers around the door handle.

She spun around, her lips parted to answer. Rhaenyra beat her to it.

"I heard Ser Harwin was at his usual tavern, drinking away his sorrows."

The ghost of a smile flashed across Rhaenyra's lips as she spoke. It was gone so quickly *yn* thought she might have dreamt it.

"Just if you were curious as to where our commander might be."

*yn* could feel a blush creeping up onto her cheeks, her face growing a deep shade of crimson red. Laenor's brow furrowed as he glanced between the two women in confusion.

"Thank you princess." *yn* stared down at her feet as she curtseyed once more, her fingers finding the door handle as she did.

Rhaenyra inclined her head in response before turning her attention back to her husband. *yn* turned her back once more just as Rhaenyra brought the goblet up to her lips to hide her amused smirk.

The stench of liquor, sweat and sex infiltrated *yn*’s nostrils. Tavern goers barely spared her a moments notice as she slipped into the chaos. Ducking and weaving through the crowd, her eyes flitted from one face to the next.

He was hard to miss. His massive frame dwarfing the table he was crouched over. An intimidating mass of muscle shoved into a dingy corner. A mass of brown curls concealed his face as he bent down to press his lips to the pint of lager he was nursing.

Harwin Strong looked up from his cup. His eyes glassy and unfocused as *yn* slid into the seat opposite him.

"You should not be here. It is not safe." His voice was gruff and deep. The type of voice that crept down *yn*'s spine, leaving shivers in its wake.

"Well lucky I have the commander of the city watch to protect me then." Her attempt at lightening the mood seemed to have the opposite effect, Harwin's eyes darkening and his jaw tightening at her words.

“Have you not heard darling?” He hiccuped as he paused to take another long swig from his drink.

“It’s ex-commander now.” His words slurred together into one convoluted string of vowels.

He had completely consumed himself in drink, something *yn* had not seen from him before.

“What?" *yn* blinked in disbelief. "How is that possible? Does the King not know what Cole said to you?”

She could feel her voice rising as her anger grew. She had never liked Cole, not since he had attempted to guilt Rhaenyra for refusing to give up the crown for him. And now that he was Queen Allicent’s lapdog, his cunt-like attitude had only worsened.

“It does not matter what he said to me.” Harwin shrugged as he slouched back in his seat.

“Of course it matters. He goaded you. You have every right to do what you did.”

“I should not have let him get under my skin. I have disgraced myself. My family. I deserve it.”

“You absolutely do fucking not.” *yn* growled. “That man is an insipid little cuck who is bitter at the world because he got so cunt drunk on-“

She cut herself off, inhaling sharply before she could say anything further. She had to watch her tongue in places like this. Where rats with beady eyes watched from their little spider holes and sewer pipes.

Harwin studied her intently, as if he was only just realising she was sitting across from him. Like her words had finally snapped him out of his drunken haze.

She watched as his face morphed from one of anger to one of humour as he took in her bright eyes and clenched jaw.

“I like when you are angry.” Harwin mused.

“Brings out a fire in you.” His eyes danced with amusement as he peered at her over his drink. “Makes you even more ravageable.”

*yn* felt heat creep into her cheeks at his words. These types of compliments from Harwin were completely foreign to her. He was always kind, humorous, but never flirty. It appeared that drink loosened his tongue.

*yn* had been Princess Rhaenyra's handmaiden since she had turned eight and ten. The second born daughter of a wealthy merchant, Dreyos Valrin was more than willing to offer his daughter to the King.

She had grown up beside Rhaenyra, and by proxy had grown to know all the other members of the royal court, and their protectors.

Harwin had always been there, although it took *yn* a few years to notice him. He had always been in the background, observing.

But then Criston wreaked havoc at Rhaenyra's wedding and Harwin had stormed through and scooped her and Rhaenyra up under each of his arms as if they weighed no more than a feather, carrying them to safety. She could remember him placing her down on the ground and staring down at her with those big brown eyes of his as he asked her if she was ok.

It was like she was properly seeing him for the first time.

Once Harwin became commander, the pair grew closer. Hours spent waiting in the corners of feasts and tournaments lead to in depth conversations and stories. To secrets and inside jokes. Knowing glances and stifling giggles.

Rhaenyra grew fond of Harwin to, the three becoming close friends. Then the rumours started. *yn* had always dismissed them, especially with the way Rhaenyra so convincingly denied them.

But as each child was born and *yn* saw the scientifically mystifying dark brown roots instead of starch white ones, her doubt only grew.

And her heart broke a little more. Because it was further proof that this infatuation was entirely one sided. An unrealistic fantasy.

“Seven hells, you are drunk.” Was the only thing that she could muster up under his intense gaze.

Her sheepish mumbling only made Harwin’s smirk widen.

“That I am.” He conceded.

“But my inebriated state does not make you any less beautiful.”

*yn* felt the blush spreading across her face darken.

She must have done something to gain the gods favour because at that very moment a drunken customer bumped into her back, sending his drink flying through the air. It missed her by an inch, but it was enough of a distraction to save her from having to construct a reply to Harwin's forward comment.

"Sorry love." The man gurgled as he stumbled past.

Harwin glared at him as he walked away. *yn* did not miss the way his gloved hand tightened around the handle of his drink.

"You should not be in a place like this." He reiterated as he finally dragged his eyes from the man.

"Neither should you." She countered.

"This is precisely where I should be. With the other fuck ups and outcasts."

*yn*'s smile vanished at Harwin's words, watching as he tilted his head back to finish the remnants of the liquid sitting at the bottom of his cup.

"Come. Let us leave this place." She spoke as he slammed the empty cup onto the table. "You have wallowed here enough."

"Why do you care where I wallow." He muttered, his eyes following her every move as she rose up to her feet.

"Because you are my friend." She stated matter-of-factly. "It is my duty to care."

"Friend huh?" His mumbling was so quiet and slurred that *yn* did not even hear him as she glanced around at her surroundings.

"How much?" A gruff voice called out from behind her.

"I'm sorry?" Her forehead creased in confusion as she turned to see a man staring at her.

"How much for an hour of your time darling."

Her eyes darted behind his shoulder to see a few man luring at her. She swallowed and fought the urge to wrap her arms around herself as the hairs stood up on the back of her neck.

"I'm not a whore."

Her response made him chuckle and his pack of friends snigger in cohesion.

"Everyone's a whore if you've got enough money." He answered her as he took a step closer. His eyes were raking up and down her figure in a way that was making her skin crawl.

"So tell me, how much is that little cunt of yours worth?"

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Harwin was now sitting up tall in his chair. His brown eyes suddenly sharp as they locked onto the man. *yn* cursed under her breath as she watched the anger ripple through him.

"I suggest you go." She spoke, her voice firm as she turned away from Harwin to glare at him. The man merely let out a dry chuckle and a low whistle as his eyes dragged down her once more.

"Must be pretty fucking good to get this one so riled up."

The table scraped against the ground behind *yn*.

"Apologise to the lady."

His voice was so deep that she felt the rumble of his chest against her back as he spoke. Her eyes never left the man in front of her.

She watched as the man's eyes drifted up past her face, all the way to Harwin's behind her. He had always dwarfed her in size, like he did most people, and she could see the realisation begin to dawn on the man's face that he had made quite the fuck up.

His friends behind him were whispering to each other, taking turns to steal glances at Harwin.

".....breakbones......"

Her ears plucked those words out of the air at the same time the stranger's did. She watched him visibly pale as he realised who he was picking a fight with.

"Apologise. Now. I will not ask again."

The man shrunk into himself at Harwin's words. A glance over his shoulder revealed his friends had scattered in all directions, leaving him without backup.

"I am sorry m'lady."

She watched him as he made an attempt at a bow, staring up at her pleadingly through his lashes. She let him stew there for a few moments, taking the time to glare at him.

"It is fine."

"I do not think it was sincere enough." Harwin growled as he stepped around her to approach him.

She reached out and placed a hand onto his forearm. The feeling of her touch made him stop and turn to look down at her.

"He apologised. Let us leave and be done with it."

He studied her for a few moments as he felt the white hot rage begin to melt away under her touch. He gritted his teeth and turned to look at the man trembling in front of them.

*yn* felt relief wash through her when he nodded his head stiffly in agreement. Her hand was still on his forearm as she guided him past the man, leaving him shaking where he stood. Harwin let her lead him through the tavern, his glare keeping anymore drunks away.

It was clear his anger had not fully dissipated once they stepped out onto the dimly lit street. She finally let go of his arm as they began to walk back towards the castle.

"I do not want you going there again." The silence finally broke after a few minutes.

"Well stop going there to get offensively drunk and I I will not have to."

"The lack of respect I endure from you will never cease to amaze me." *yn* could hear the smile in his response which in turn made a small smile appear on her lips as the energy around them shifted.

"I did not realise an ex-commander required a certain level of respect." Her stomach dropped the second the words slipped past her lips.

It was a low blow. A gamble. Possibly the diciest quip she had ever delivered to him. Something she most definitely regretted.

"You know." He said after a few moments. Nerves wracked her body as she opened her mouth to apologise.

"I always blamed the princess for your insolence, that you had spent too much time in her company. But now I am second guessing that theory."

A moment of silence passed as the pair caught eyes. His face was solemn until one side of his lips began to twitch up into a smirk. Then they both burst out into hushed laughter. Relief coursed through her veins at the sound of his amusement.

The couple slipped back into comfortable silence as they approached one of the back entrances into the castle. *yn* turned to say something to him as she began to scale the stairs but was caught by surprise when she realised he was no longer beside her.

"Harwin?" She peered down at him questioningly when she saw that he had come to a stop at the bottom of the stairwell.

"This is where I bid you goodnight Lady Valrin."

"What are you talking about? You are not returning to your chambers?"

Confusion brewed in her when he shook his head.

"I do not think it appropriate for me to stay here anymore given these recent events."

"But this is your home. Ser Criston is as much to blame as you-"

"Ser Criston did not publicly humiliate the hand of the king." He cut her off firmly.

"I have taken up lodgings elsewhere." He spoke just as she opened her mouth to protest.

"Besides, I do not want to tarnish your reputation by being seen with me at this hour by the castle's preying eyes."

His words made a humourless chuckle escape her lips.

"I am a second born daughter of a merchant, the handmaiden to the princess. I do not have a reputation to tarnish. I am of insignificance to preying eyes."

He shook his head at her words. "That is a lie *yn*."

She felt her heart hammer in her chest as a gloved hand came to cradle her face.

"And you and I both know it." His thumb brushed against her chin as he spoke. His voice was low, his gaze gentle as they looked at one another.

An unreadable expression crossed his face as he dropped his hand from her face and took a step back. She exhaled a shaky breath as he bowed deeply in front of her.

"Goodnight Lady Valrin."

She swallowed as he looked up at her through his mass of curls, his deep brown eyes locking with hers. The confession she had so desperately wanted to rid herself of hung tantalisingly on her lips. But she shoved it down once more, like she had done a thousand times over.

"Goodnight Ser Harwin."

"Can we go to the dragon pit yet?"

"Once your mother is finished with the council. I heard she wants to watch you train today."

Lucerys Velaryon moaned as he flopped down beside *yn*.

"But I want to go now."

"We all wish we could have things when we wanted them young prince." *yn* teased him lightly.

"But patience is a virtue, we know." Jacaerys huffed as he bounded over to join them.

"Yes Jacaerys, that is correct." *yn* nodded as the two boys joined her under the shade of the tree.

"You have only told us about three hundred times." He answered back sarcastically which made Lucerys giggle.

"Well now I have told you three hundred and one times and I will continue to until you learn it." *yn* raised a brow at him, unable to hide the smile on her face as she tried to be semi-authoritative.

The boys could read her like a book, and play her like a fiddle. They knew she was all bark and no bite.

"How do you 'learn' patience?" Lucerys queried as he moved to rest his head in her lap.

"Well, I am getting quite good practice right now."

It took the boys a few moments to realise what she meant, but when they did they let out gasps followed by fits of giggles.

"When will mother be done?" Lucerys asked once their laughter had died down.

He was like a dog with a bone.

"I am not sure, it should not be much longer. Then you can go to the pit." She answered him as she ran a hand through his hair.

"I thought we were saying goodbye to Harwin after the council."

"What?" *yn* could not hide her surprise as she turned to look at Jacaerys. "What are you talking about?"

"Mother told us he was leaving and that we had to say goodbye."

"Leave? To where?" Jacaerys' brow furrowed at her tone, noting the concern on her features.

"To Harrenhal."

*yn* felt like she might be sick, her brain racing at a million miles an hour as she tried to process the information provided to her by two young children.

"Did your mother say when he was leaving?" She could feel her voice wavering as she spoke, her eyes beginning to sting as she kept her gaze fixed on the grass below her.

The two children exchanged worried glances when they noticed the expression on her features.

"Mother said he was leaving tonight." Jacaerys answered her.

"Did Ser Harwin not tell you?" Lucerys piped up from her lap.

"No. No he did not."

"I thought you two were friends." He frowned, sitting up to study her when he saw the grief flit across her face.

"As did I."

*yn* did not think it possible to experience so many different emotions in such a short period of time.

She had gone through sadness, confusion, humiliation and betrayal all in the span of one afternoon.

Now she had settled on anger. Pure, unbridled rage that was directed at one person and one person only.

The last thing she wanted to do this evening was to traipse up through the castle to the princess's chambers. Yet that was exactly what she was doing. Having been summoned by her princess to discuss something 'urgent'.

All she wanted to do was to curl up in her bed and cry.

She squared her shoulders and painted a pleasant smile on her features as she opened the door. She could thank Rhaenyra for her learned ability to hide her true emotions.

Swirls of pink and orange light filtered in through the large windows, bathing Rhaenyra's room in a beautiful golden haze. Dusk had always been *yn*'s favourite time of the day in King's Landing.

Her body went rigid when her eyes fell on an unexpected figure standing at one of the windows on the far side of the room.

"What are you doing here?" Even she was surprised by the bitterness laced through her words as they left her mouth.

Harwin turned, clearly caught off guard by her presence as his lips parted in surprise. He composed himself quickly, his face expressionless as he studied her.

"The princess sent for me." His words were calm and soft. The complete opposite to hers.

She huffed and crossed her arms in front of her chest, sending him a glare before purposely turning her head to avoid his gaze. Some might call her petulant for this but she did not care in the slightest.

It also pained her to look at him.

"I take it you have heard the news?"

She could feel her anger begin to rise to the surface at his question.

"Yes, the princess's sons informed me." She kept her gaze fixed to the window opposite her.

"I am sorry."

"Are you sorry you did not tell me or sorry that I found out?" Her words were venomous as she finally turned to direct her rage at him.

"That was your plan, was it not? To scamper away to Harrenhal without a word."

He did not burr up as she pelted him with her anger. Instead his gaze only softened as he took a step towards her.

The dusk light filtering through illuminated his figure as he stood in front of the window. It made him look more ethereal than usual.

"I thought it would be easier this way."

"So you are a coward then." She snarled, her eyes glowering with anguish as she watched him step closer.

"In this situation, I am." He murmured.

His confession took her by surprise. She froze, her lips parted as she stared at him. However, it only quelled her rage momentarily before she was aiming her venom laced words at him once more.

"Why are you leaving?"

"My father has instructed me to return to Harrenhal and start my duties as heir. These rumours have left me no choice but to leave."

"Are they true?"

Harwin blinked at her in disbelief at her question. *yn* never thought that she would ever be brave enough to say those words aloud, but now with the prospect of never seeing the man she loved ever again, she felt oddly liberated.

"The rumours, are they true?" She pressed when she did not receive an answer.

For the first time in their interaction an expression that resembled anger flickered across Harwin's face.

"You really think that low of me?" His voice was low as he glared at her. "That I would go off and father three children with a married woman when my heart so clearly belongs to another?"

The brief sense of relief that she had felt was very quickly drowned out by his confession. His heart belonged to another. Of course it did.

"I jest about your insolence but I never expected such an insult from you."

His words brought her back to the present. Her eyes narrowed as she stepped forward, her fists clenched at her side.

"You dare speak of insolence to me? You care so little of our friendship that you were willing to leave, perhaps to never return again, without so much as a wave goodbye." She was aware there were hot tears streaming down her face now, but she found herself unable to care. He was leaving, she might as well bare all of her ugly parts to him now.

"I do hope you did not extend such little courtesy to the woman you profess to love. I shudder to think how she must feel right now."

Her words were designed to hurt. Perfectly crafted to pierce through his skin. It was safe to say that she was quite confused when his shoulders slumped in defeat and he let out a halfhearted chuckle at her words.

"From where I am standing right now, she seems to be understandably quite enraged."

His words left her speechless and frozen. Like a blanket stifling her anger as if they were flames.

"And although I usually find her anger very alluring, I am actually quite frightened this time." A sad smile that reached his eyes spread across his lips.

She watched as he took a few steps forward, closing the gap between them.

"You love me?" She breathed out.

He nodded in response as he came to a stop in front of her. Their height difference forced *yn* to tilt her head up to keep their eyes locked. Her anger had completely dissipated now, dissolving completely as his hand came up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

"For as long as I can remember."

"Why have you never said anything?"

"I am not sure. Terrified of your rejection most likely. Scared of how my heart so entirely belongs to you." He mumbled as his eyes scanned every inch of her features.

"That is why I did not want to say goodbye. Because I was terrified that I would not be able to bring myself to leave if I saw you one last time."

*yn* felt her heart break as he glided the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. She had so much she wanted to say, but she could not find the words to articulate her thoughts.

So instead she did what Rhaenyra would do. Take what she wanted with no apologies or embarrassment. With that thought in mind she reached up onto her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck to guide his head down to meet hers.

She felt her stomach do flips as their lips met. Her fingers curled into his thick hair as his hands found her waist. Her head was spinning as the kiss deepened. A rumble emitted from Harwin's chest as her fingers entwined further into his hair and he dug his fingers into the flesh of her hips.

The pair only pulled apart when they could no longer breath, their chests rising and falling at a rapid pace as they stared at each other.

"It is quite extraordinary how quickly you reduce me to a quivering bundle of nerves, you know." He remarked, an amused smirk flashing on his lips.

"Ser Harwin Breakbones Strong a bundle of nerves? Impossible." She managed to stop herself from shaking under his touch, a smile on her lips as she spoke.

"My heart has always been yours too." She admitted quietly after a few moments passed. Harwin's brown eyes were filled with tears now too.

Both were aware of how bittersweet this moment was, finally confessing their love to one another just to be ripped apart for who knows how long. Perhaps forever.

The sound of footsteps approaching made the pair spring apart, only just detangling from each other when the door opened.

"Princess." They both spoke, bowing in unison as Rhaenyra appeared in the doorway.

Her hands were clasped firmly together in front of her as she came into the room. Her eyes flitted between them, silence stretching on as she took her time in studying them.

"*yn*, a word." As she spoke, her two sons came bounding in after her. They made a beeline for Harwin, both talking over the top of eachother to tell him about their afternoon in the dragon pit.

*yn* did not risk a glance at Harwin as she nodded to the princess and made her way over to her.

"We are leaving." There was no attempt at quieting her voice as she spoke. Loud enough that Harwin could hear every word over the boys animated shouts.

"To Dragonstone?"

Rhaenyra nodded. "We have been here for far too long, we should have left years ago. It is about time we escaped the whispers that keep us prisoner here."

She agreed with Rhaenyra. The castle had grown poisonous as Allicent's boys aged and Viserys withered. It was no place for Rhaenyra's boys to grow up, or for Rhaenyra to thrive.

"A good decision, princess. We will leave soon?"

"Tomorrow."

Rhaenyra glanced over her shoulder at Harwin, before turning to *yn*.

"You should bring him." *yn* could not mask her surprise at Rhaenyra's words, her head jerking around to look at Harwin.

"I am afraid I do not understand."

Her answer made Rhaenyra cock her head to one side as she studied her.

"Someone needs to train the boys. Besides, you will need the extra company, or else you will grow tired of me."

A smirk appeared on Rhaenyra's lips, her eyes dancing with amusement as she glanced over at Harwin once more.

"I think he will do a fine job of keeping you entertained."

Before *yn* could protest, Rhaenyra stepped around her and made a beeline for the boys chambers.

"Come boys, it is time for bed."

The boys knew better than to protest as they excitedly bid their goodbyes to Harwin and bounded after their mother.

*yn* stood rooted in place as she watched the three disappear from sight. The sound of their bedroom door shutting echoed in the cavernous room.

Harwin and *yn* were alone once more.

"Did you hear all of that?" *yn* murmured to him once she finally mustered the courage to turn to him.

"I will come with you. To Dragonstone." Her lips parted in surprise at his words.

"But you are the heir of Harrenhal Harwin." She answered as she watched him approach her.

"Fuck my inheritance." He stated as he closed the gap between them.

"I never wanted to be a Lord anyways. Or inherit a cursed castle. Larys can have it." He shrugged.

She shook her head in disbelief, her eyes shining as tears began to pool in the corners once more.

"I cannot ask you to give that up for me."

He smiled as he cupped her face in both of his gloved hands and bent down to place a tender kiss to her lips.

"Good thing I am not asking then."

I love that this man had like 4 lines and I've just given him an entire personality.... anyway hope you all loved it!!! Enjoy this hyper fixation for a while because I want to keep writing for him hehehe. As always, feedback would be super super appreciated and you can give it back HERE!

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theforgottenmcrmy · 2 years

Text

Safety (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

***please note that this oneshot now has a sequel, “Captivated”, which can be read HERE***

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, extremely subtle references to violence, spoilers for the House of the Dragon... I think that’s it. I’ll add more as I realize them.

Word Count: 3700 ish.

Summary: You’ve been brought to King’s Landing by Princess Rhaenyra’s search for her next lady in waiting. While your father, Lord Tyrell, and brother are hopeful for your prospects should you be chosen to serve the Princess, you’re having doubts about leaving the Reach and your family behind in favor of the storied but unfamiliar capital city. Thankfully, and perhaps a little ironically, you may be able to find some refuge in the man that they call Breakbones.

A/N: Oh look- the Strongs and the Tyrells. Two families who deserved better. Falling head over heels for a minor character with limited dialogue and screen time? Sounds like me. (What the heck is my deal with falling for men with doomed fates?) Anywayssss, I hope you enjoy this highly self-indulgent blurb.

The processional line was a long one. It was nearly unbearable to wait in it- despite the handsome prize that was to be given out at the end of it all. One could hardly imagine what it must have been like to sit and sort through it.

The Princess, and Heir to the Iron Throne, Rhaenyra Targaryen, was in search of a new lady in waiting.

Ladies from all across Westeros had made their way to King's Landing for the occasion. Escorted by their fathers, brothers, mothers, or other extended family, the capital had been overflowing with people for the past few days. The crowds might have been enough to deter some, but for most, they had stayed firmly put. The potential reward to be bestowed upon a lady of their house was far too tempting to turn back now.

It had been several hours of waiting, as each and every hopeful was presented to Princess Rhaenyra and King Viserys. The end finally looked to be in sight, once you had made it into the throne room. You’d had your doubts throughout the duration of your journey to the capital, and said doubts were only amplified by worry upon the realization that many members of the King’s court had attended the festivity. You hadn’t anticipated an audience for the event.

Your father provided a welcomed distraction when he more directly pointed out what he had been vaguely commenting upon all day: most of the other hopefuls were nowhere close to the Princess’s age. You couldn’t help but agree- nearly every noble lady in line around you seemed either far too old, or far too young. The girl in front of you, escorted by who appeared to be her brother, couldn’t have been more than five years of age.

“You may stand a chance yet, my dear,” your father said to you under his breath, before pointedly grinning at an observer who was eyeing him.

Though your father sounded hopeful, you weren’t sure how to feel about it. Being chosen by the Princess to be one of her ladies in waiting would be an honor, that much was indisputable. But, should you be chosen, it would mean a semi-permanent relocation to King’s Landing, which was leagues away from her father and brother.

The Tyrells were notorious among the Reach for being one of the few noble houses that outwardly cared for one another. Some of the other noble houses suspected that it was an act, merely a ploy used to gain the trust and support of the common folk. Perhaps in previous generations, it had been. But that was not the case for the current one. Your father, Lord Larris Tyrell, your brother, Derron Tyrell, the heir to Highgarden, and yourself, had always been close.

Too soon, the girl in front of you was being introduced to the King and Princess as the Lady Rosyn Tully. As the scene unfolded, the most prominent of your worries came to the forefront of your mind.

You knew that your father and brother were hopeful that, should you be chosen to serve Princess Rhaenyra, your list of potential suitors would grow exponentially. Already the only daughter of the current Lord Tyrell, you’d always known that you were expected to marry and secure a smart match for yourself. Though your father and brother had never forced your hand in the matter, you also knew that you were getting to be an age where others may begin to question why you had not yet been matched. Princess Rhaenyra, who was also your age, would undoubtedly be married herself in perhaps a year or two.

You’d come to peace with the fact that you’d be expected to marry, not out of love, but out of duty to your family and House. But the men in King’s Landing were strangers. Though it simply was not possible that all were heathens, you’d heard plenty of rumors. Some of the men who walked around the Red Keep were snakes, scheming and plotting with nearly every breath they took. Others were cruel, and took joy in the misfortunes of others, which, unfortunately, seemed to be plentiful in King’s Landing. The third group of them, and the scariest and most formidable to you, were the licentious scoundrels who placed little to no value on women, and preferred to think of and treat them as mere objects.

Being the lady in waiting for Princess Rhaenyra would guarantee some safety, perhaps. But while you would have to stay in King’s Landing, your father and brother would return back to Highgarden, and with it, they would take the security they’d always provided you with.

In front of you, King Viserys bantered with Lord Elmo Tully, Lady Rosyn’s designated escort. As their conversation echoed faintly in your ears, your eyes drifted to beside you, where many curious members of court observed the proceedings with intrigued whispering.

You hardly recognized a single one of them, but you hadn’t expected to. Though several noblemen from the Reach were active members of King Viserys’ court, most of them came from the Houses closer to and around Oldtown. Your eyes glossed over a lot of them briefly, never situating themselves on any one of them in particular, lest you got caught staring.

But there was one amongst the crowd that caught your eye, despite your efforts. A young man, perhaps a few years your senior, stood closer to the front of the room, where the Iron Throne was situated, but along the side wall. Though he was several rows of people deep into the crowd, it was doubtful anyone could have missed him.

The young man was massive. He was tall, insanely so- perhaps that was the reason he had fixed himself towards the back of onlookers. His broad shoulders did nothing but encourage his outward appearance of a potentially looming individual. Rich brown hair adorned his head; the earthy tone was almost comforting amongst the rest of his unique and otherworldly physique.

The rumors you’d heard about the men in King’s Landing had not excluded him. And as you took in the sight of the nearly daunting man across the room, you knew in an instant who he was. One more quick glance about the room confirmed your suspicions- no one else held a candle to him. It had to be him.

Ser Harwin Strong.

Or, rather, Breakbones, as some would call him. But you tried not to think too much about how he might have earned that nickname.

Son of Master of Laws, Lord Lyonel Strong, and Heir to Harrenhal, Ser Harwin Strong was the strongest knight in all the seven kingdoms. It was said that he was able to pull a fully occupied carriage on wheels all by himself. Someone else had told you they’d heard he was single handedly able to open and close the burdensome doors to the Red Keep once, when the chains had broken. You weren’t sure whether you believed those rumors at the time you’d heard them, but looking at Ser Harwin Strong now… perhaps you ought to have given them more merit.

Before you could come to your senses and look away for propriety’s sake, you realized with mild mortification that Ser Harwin’s eyes were locked with your own. You wanted to tear your eyes from his, and keep whatever dignity you could scramble together for yourself, but something stopped you. The way his eyes entrapped yours was undeniable. They were a lovely hazel shade, by the looks of it- though it was hard to tell from across the room. You wanted to look away- and you knew you should have. There was no reason to occupy his gaze in such a manner. You hadn’t even been introduced to him.

Still, it wasn’t until your father’s guiding hand on your arm urging you forward that you finally broke eye contact with the knight.

Instead, you were met with the inquisitive gazes of the royal family.

There was King Viserys, looking fatigued but yet still present, seated upon the imposing Iron Throne.

Queen Alicent sat beside him. You recognized her almost immediately, despite the ornate gown and crown upon her head. Before she had moved to King’s Landing, she, along with her father, Lord Otto Hightower, who was seated right behind the King and Queen, had paid your father several visits over the years. And since you and Alicent were near the same age, the two of you had often been encouraged to entertain and spend time with one another. It was odd- in your youth, your station might have been considered above hers, given your father’s House. But now that Alicent was Queen, the roles had certainly been reversed. Her marriage to King Viserys had arguably created the need for this very event. Queen Alicent, once friends with Princess Rhaenyra, had almost been a lady in waiting of sorts before her marriage. But now that she was married and otherwise occupied, it had been determined that the Princess required additional assistance with her affairs.

Princess Rhaenyra was seated on the other side of the King. She looked… dare you say it, bored. You’d heard of her sharp tongue and witful rapport, and could only hope that she would choose to be merciful and spare you any difficult conversation.

“Lord Larris Tyrell of Highgarden, Defender of the Marshes, Lord Paramount of the Reach, and Warden of the South… and his daughter, the Lady Y/N Tyrell.”

Lord Hightower’s introduction echoed off the walls of the throne room, and upon hearing it, you and your father curtsy and bow respectively to your gracious hosts.

“Lord Larris,” King Viserys greeted, smiling warmly. “It has been some time since we last met, my old friend. And as for the Lady Y/N- your daughter is very lovely. She is truly the image of your late wife, if I may say so.”

“You are too kind, Your Grace,” your father replied, sparing you a glance out of the corner of his eyes. “Y/N truly is the pride of our House.”

You smiled humbly, feeling honored by your father and the King’s words, though a bit wary as to wear the conversation might turn next.

Princess Rhaenyra regarded you thoughtfully. “You look familiar, Lady Y/N- have we met before?”

You had not expected to be addressed directly by either the King or the Princess. From what you could tell, not many in the line before you had been. Your father sensed this as well; he turned to you slightly, and gave you an encouraging look.

“I’m afraid I have not had the pleasure, Princess,” you responded, still not entirely confident, though trying to fight through your nerves. “Although, I did accompany my father last year, when he swore fealty to you.”

Princess Rhaenyra’s eyes widened in mild surprise. “The journey from Highgarden to King’s Landing is quite a long one, and to make that trip twice… That must have been difficult. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Perhaps it is for some, Your Grace,” you replied carefully, not sure as to whether her phrasing was meant to trick you.

The Princess smiled softly, as if sensing your nervousness. “That is a fair point… We welcome you to the capital, just the same.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“How was the trip?” she asked politely.

You bit your tongue at first. You’d heard rumors of the Princess’ normal disposition, but knew not how true they were… But then you recalled the rumors of Ser Harwin Strong, and now that you had seen him with your own eyes, they weren’t likely to have been rumors at all… Perhaps Princess Rhaenyra would be receptive to your blunt response. It was a risk, but it was a risk worth taking.

“Well, the weather was very agreeable,” you answered. “However, the smell has not been so forgiving. But, I suppose that, with time, one grows accustomed to it.”

An eerie silence fell over the throne room then, despite the gaggle of attendees and onlookers. You knew it only to be in your mind, but you could have sworn that the stench of King’s Landing only grew stronger following your acknowledgement of it. Out of the corner of your eye, you could feel the panicked eyes of your father upon you, but you could not tear your eyes away from the King and the Princess.

King Viserys looked contemplative for a few moments. Those brief seconds felt like hours as you waited with bated breath, rapidly growing fearful that you had erred. But suddenly, the King erupted into a fit of joyful laughter. Princess Rhaenyra soon joined him, as did most everyone who was within earshot. The rest of the room continued about their hushed whispers. Queen Alicent did not look very amused.

The King’s eyes shined with mirth as he attempted to calm himself. “Very amusing- I dare say she gets that from you, Lord Larris.”

Your father laughed from beside you, but you could tell some of the laughs were still riddled with nerves.

“Well,” King Viserys said then, directly to your father, in an attempt to conclude the conversation. “It was truly nice to see you again, Friend. Perhaps we will have some time to reaqqunaint ourselves during your visit.”

“That would be most welcomed, Your Grace,” your father replied.

Taking that as your queue to leave, your father moved to bow and you to curtsy, but the pair of you were immediately stopped by Princess Rhaenyra’s inquiry.

“Lady Y/N,” she beckoned.

You froze, and after sending a subtle, wary glance to your father, you rose back to your full height and regarding her.

The Princess was looking at you through slightly narrowed eyes. However, the look was not menacing- it was more curious than anything else. “Tell me- what is a quality I should seek in my next lady in waiting?”

You knew this was a test. The audience hushing themselves as they strained to hear your response, as well as the Princess’ interested look as she regarded you, only proved your hunch as fact. Though your father might have preferred you to offer up a safe answer to appease her, you decided against it. You’d been honest thus far, it had yet to lead you astray. You conveyed as much to the Princess.

“I would recommend seeking someone honest, Your Grace.” Your eyes briefly flitted over to Lord Hightower. “Like the Hand of the King- and someday, the future Hand of the Queen- offers the King truthful, unbiased advice. So should your ladies in waiting offer you the same counsel.”

You could tell by the look on her face that your words resonated with Princess Rhaenyra. In light of this, you felt empowered to continue.

“Many of us have been conditioned from a young age to offer up solely what others wish to hear. Pretty words can do wonders to soothe worried minds. But offering up pretty words to the future Queen of Westeros at the expense of honest advice would be a detriment to the realm. A good monarch ought to seek honest counsel, and- if I may be so bold, Your Grace- you seem very inclined to do just that. It would be best then to surround yourself with those who are just as inclined to offer it to you.”

It was quiet in the throne room once again. You feared for the health of your father beside you, but you dared not to look at him just yet.

King Viserys looked tired once again, but at least he did not look angered. “Those were some wise words, My Lady.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Princess Rhaenyra looked absolutely pleased, but you weren’t sure if that was a good thing. Regardless, she said, “It was an honor to make your acquaintance, Lady Y/N Tyrell. I anticipate that you shall be hearing from me soon.”

“I look forward to it, Your Grace,” you heard yourself say, forcing yourself to finally curtsy to the royal family.

Your father quickly escorted you out of sight. Though he was not cross with you, and would never admit to as much, you could tell he was a little disappointed. He feared that your words had rubbed the royal family the wrong way, and ruined your chance.

But he would forgive you. And you could both return back to Highgarden, where no strange men roamed the halls, and the only scheming to be found was by the young children who attempted to sneak some desert from the kitchens.

As it turned out, your choice words had not rubbed the royal family the wrong way, after all.

Only a few days later, you received a letter from Princess Rhaenyra herself, formally offering you the position as one of her ladies in waiting.

Your father was thrilled. You felt humbled to have been chosen, but the goodbye you shared with him was tearful. And once your father’s carriage had disappeared from the Red Keep and out of sight into the narrow streets of King’s Landing, the fear and realization of the fact that you were truly alone for the first time in your life became all the more evident.

The following morning was the first one you were to be in the Princess’ service. You walked to her chambers swiftly, being selective about whom you made eye contact with on the way there. You were still learning names and faces, and were trying your best to decide which among those who resided within the Red Keep would one day be worthy of your trust.

You donned one of your best dresses, the fabric was in your favorite color. While you had worn a green gown during your first audience with the King and Princess, as it was one of the colors of House Tyrell, you reasoned that standing out from the crowd of your peers had more likely than not earned you your post. While green was a lovely color, wearing one of your favorite dresses was a sure way to make a statement, and give yourself the confidence boost you desired.

… Admittingly, your confidence did waiver slightly upon arriving outside the Princess’ chambers. You had expected another knight to be keeping guard- not Ser Harwin Strong.

“Lady Y/N,” he greeted, with an amused twinkle in his hazel eyes that did not go unnoticed by you.

You felt your face heat up with mild embarrassment as you recalled that you had been caught red-handed staring at him only a few days beforehand. You nodded to him politely in greeting. “Ser Harwin… I was told Ser Criston usually keeps watch here.”

“That is true,” Ser Harwin acknowledged. “But Princess Rhaenyra has tasked him with some personal business today, and I am afraid you are stuck with me instead.”

For a man named Breakbones, he was far more soft-spoken than you had ever anticipated him to be.

You cleared your throat briefly, and lowered your voice slightly, so as not to be overheard. “Ser Harwin… I wanted to apologize, for the other day. I did not mean to-”

“Worry yourself not, My Lady,” Ser Harwin dismissed politely. “I am quite used to being gawked at.”

“Gawked?” you repeated blankly. “I assure you, My Lord, I was not gawking at you! I merely…-”

You trailed off as you noted the mischievous glint in his eye. And then you realized- he was messing with you.

You frowned disapprovingly, leaving Ser Harwin no choice but to chuckle at your antics. The sound echoed off the narrow stone hallway, warming the surrounding space and your heart just the same.

“I apologize, Lady Y/N,” he said, though he was still smiling. “I mean no offense… as I have taken none from you.”

It was your turn to smile now. “Good,” you declared, relieved, but also amused by your entire conversation thus far. “I am glad to hear that.”

“I am glad you are here,” Ser Harwin admitted. “The Princess clearly has taken to you, and I have the feeling you will serve her well.”

You could tell his words were sincere. It surprised you, but you probably shouldn’t have been. The strongest knight in the seven kingdoms probably had little want or need to deceive or scheme. Ser Harwin Strong seemed like a man who wore his heart on his sleeve… and, like you had preached yourself in the throne room, you believed honesty to be an extraordinary quality in a person.

Perhaps he was one of the few amongst this strange place that could be trusted. However, only time would tell.

“Thank you, Ser Harwin.”

“You are very welcome, My Lady,” he nodded cordially. “You should also know- any friend of the Princess is a friend of my own. Should you find yourself in need of anything, or should anyone give you any trouble, I do hope you think of me. You need only ask for help, and it shall be yours.”

Another smile came to your lips at his endearing offer. You tried not to think too much about it, but you doubted the words would ever stray far from your mind.

“I will certainly keep that in mind, My Lord.”

Ser Harwin stood to attention, and looked at the door beside him. “I should not keep you any longer, I’m afraid… I wouldn’t want you to make a bad impression with the Princess on your first day.”

“And I should let you return to your post,” you agreed, though part of you felt a bit remorse that the charming conversation was coming to an end. However, you had a sneaking suspicion that this would not be the last of your conversations with the one they called Breakbones.

You turned to face the door to the Princess’ chambers, but paused right as your hand fell upon the metal handle when the knight beside you spoke one last time.

“I bid you a good day, Lady Y/N.”

“And I you, Ser Harwin.”

There were still strangers in King’s landing. And you had little doubt that there were plenty of men who roamed the Red Keep that could pose a threat to you. With your father and brother at home in the Reach, you had assumed that meant you would have to fend for yourself.

You had not anticipated finding an ally so soon. But perhaps there was safety to be found yet, amongst the likes of Ser Harwin Strong.

I’m not setting out to make this a series, but I do have a couple follow up one shot ideas, so please let me know if you’d like to see those, and if you’d like to be tagged. Thank you for reading! 🖤

PART 2, “Captivated”, can be found HERE.

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drakoneve · 2 years

Text

A Father’s Love

request: Hii!! I was wondering if you could do a aemond imagine where you are jace twin sister so you have the strong look! Viserys decided to marry you off to aemond to prevent the bloodshed and your first born a son comes out with the the dark brown hair and aegon starts teasing his brother about it because it’s like karma hit the greens about having a targaryean with a dark hair but aemond ends up protecting you and your child from all the comments coming from the greens. Thank you 🤍

pairing: aemond targaryen x y/n velaryon (strong)

word count: 2k

warning: mentions of pregnancy & childbirth, canon typical violence (protective aemond)

a/n: i think aemond’s son having the strong look would change his view of rhaenyra & her boys

When you were still but a girl your mother, Princess Rhaenyra, explained to you that you would have your husband picked out for you in an arranged marriage. You didn’t quite understand it then, but the picture became clearer as you got older.

By the time you were one and ten your grandsire King Viserys had declared you would marry your uncle Aemond born of the same year. The arrangement came after the night of your aunt Laena’s funeral, when Aemond claimed Vhagar for his own and your younger brother Lucerys struck out his left eye.

You were close with Aemond when you were children, but after the night he lost his eye, Rhaenyra moved your family to Dragonstone. Your relationship with Aemond had been reduced down to letters over the last six years. He wrote once and he expressed his fear that you might not love him because of the scar on his face due to the response of the whispers from the Keep. You assured him something so trivial as an old wound would not deter the feelings you already held for him.

The only people you told about the letters you exchanged with Aemond was your twin, Jacaerys, and your mother. Jacaerys didn’t like the idea of you marrying your uncle at first, but when you read him some of the sweeter things Aemond had written you, Jacaerys decided your uncle wasn’t the worst man you could possibly marry. Rhaenyra didn’t mind her younger brother and was more concerned about what Alicent could do to you upon your return.

Your reunion with Aemond went profoundly well as you promised it would, and the two of you married within weeks of your return to King’s Landing. Though Rhaenyra, your brothers, and uncle/new step-father Daemon attended the wedding celebrations, they didn’t stay long after the celebrations concluded. You understood because of the tensions between your mother and Queen Alicent, but it didn’t make you miss your family any less.

Aemond helped, however, as he loved having you by his side at all times. He walked you to your lessons, invited you to watch him train, he accompanied you to dress fittings. With all the attention you’d been receiving from your proud husband it came as no surprise to anyone when Aemond announced at dinner one night that you were officially with child.

From that moment on Aemond’s tendencies to keep a watchful eye on you even worse. Any moment he couldn’t remain by your side he assigned two of his very own hand picked Kingsguard knights to accompany you. Thankfully your pregnancy went as smoothly as possible, all things considered. You had mild nausea through the majority but eventually it relented and things were smooth from there.

Labor was long, and incredibly painful, so much so the maester advised if you’d squeezed any harder you’d have broken Aemond’s hand. Aemond had stayed by your side from the moment you informed him your labors had begun and refused to leave your side despite some of the arguing of the maester and most of the midwives. Finally after about fourteen hours, you gave birth to a healthy chubby, brown haired boy.

So focused on the newborn babe laid contently on your chest you hardly registered that your mother-in-law Queen Alicent had entered the room. Despite being nothing but kind towards her, Alicent never made a move to return the same sentiment.

But Aemond noticed. He watched as his mother’s face contorted into a look of disgust as she glared, glared down at the babe on your chest. He watched as his mother forced a smile on her face. Her dead eyes said everything Aemond needed to know.

“He’s a little darling,” Alicent forced through her fake smile.

Soon after Taelon’s birth, rumors began spreading around the Keep of his legitimacy. Your lady in waiting, Lilian had been the first to mention the rumors to you one morning as she brushed and braided your hair. The most popular whisperers were ones along the lines of that your son had been conceived while Aemond was away or that you had laid with your brother Jacaerys instead.

You mentioned them to Aemond later that same day when you met him for tea, and he told you he’d already heard with them and was working towards finding the source of such blasphemy so it would be properly taken care of.

Almost a whole month later, however, and Aemond did not yet have the source. At least, that’s what he told you. The whole time he knew it was his own mother, Alicent, that was spreading the rumours throughout the Keep. For weeks he turmoiled in anguish and fury that resulted deep in his gut as he worked his mind for a solution.

He couldn’t decide whether, or more accurately, just how to confront his mother on the subject. The news of the arrival of your mother and the rest of your family arriving in King’s Landing provided the well needed distraction for Aemond, and you.

You and Aemond await side by side as your family approaches, you with Taelon swaddled in your arms. Rhaenyra reaches you first, kissing your face several times before looking down to the babe in your arms. “Oh,” Rhaenyra cooes at your son. “He’s gorgeous, my dear. You’ve done wonderfully.”

“Thank you,” you smile at her, and offer her your son. She takes him in her arms happily.

Jacaerys appears by your side and pulls you into a tight hug. “I’ve missed you, sister.”

“And I, you, brother.” you whisper to him.

Lucerys and Joffrey join the hug, but soon lurch away as you begin to ruffle their thick, dark hair.

“You boys have grown into fine young men! I cannot believe how tall you all are,” you gape at your brothers.

Aemond places his hand at the small of your back and pulls you into his side. “My wife is quite right, nephews. It pleases me to see the man my own son is sure to grow into.”

Jacaerys can’t hide the shock in his face as he studies his uncle for any malicious intentions. Lucerys grasps your hand like he did when he was first learning how to walk and would use you to support himself. Rhaenyra’s eyes widen at Aemond in shock and she looks to your for an answer. All you give her is a shrug as you take your son from her arms and look back to your family. Your mother, brothers, stepfather Daemon, standing with you, your husband, and newborn son. Something you once thought to be impossible, happening in front of your own eyes.

You knew after everything that happened between Aemond and Lucerys the night Aemond claimed Vhagar the dynamics in your family would never be the same. For a long time Aemond held a deep, vicious hatred for Lucerys. To be honest you didn’t exactly blame him. After Aemond finally opened up to you about some of his insecurities and frustrations regarding the loss of his eye and the scar that came as a result, and it helped you understand these fears and insecurities is what fueled his hatred for your brother. Over time, as you fell in love with Aemond even more and convinced him of your feelings, he began to feel less insecure.

The welcoming party disbursed as your family began to settle into the palace for their stay. Word of their arrival has spread throughout the Keep by now, and your grandsire Viserys ordered a large feast to celebrate not only the birth of your son, but the union of the entirety of House Targaryen under one roof. At first the plans made you anxious as you’d wanted a rather small dinner consisting of the royal family, but it seems there are other plans.

Normally you would get ready for such events in the confines of your shared chamber with Aemond, but tonight you opted to join your mother and Daemon in their chambers. Rhaenyra asked for your help in choosing her hairstyle and accessories, an act you once cherished as a child. As you help your mother, Daemon coddles your newborn in his arms.

“He’s quite the charmer,” compliments Daemon, who is wrestling with the babe’s free flying foot. “have you chosen an egg for his cradle, tala (daughter)?”

“Not yet, uncle,” you shake your head. “Aemond wants us to pick it out together, and I haven’t had the chance to make it to the Dragonpit as of late.” You finish the parallel braids in your mother’s hair, securing them in place with delicate pins.

“You must choose one before we leave,” he demands, not taking his eyes off your son. “I cannot, in good faith, leave my grandson knowing he has no dragon.”

Aemond appears in the chamber doorway dressed in his finest leathers. “I assure you, uncle, Taelon will have a dragon. I will make sure no son of mine goes without.”

You smile at him, taking him in for the glorious man he is. “Taelon is but a babe, sweet husband. He has no use for dragons except for our own right now.”

“Correct,” Aemond wraps one arm around your waist. “Though the sooner we choose an egg, the sooner the hatchling will come forth.”

Rhaenyra stepped forward to rest a reassuring hand in her younger brother’s shoulder. “Now's not the time to worry of such things. We’re here to celebrate Taelon.”

“Oh and celebrate we must,” you coo before scooping your son from Daemon’s arms. “Who wouldn’t want to celebrate such a handsome little face?”

The rest of the night went off without a hitch, everyone dining, drinking, dancing, and having fun. For the first time in a long time your family was collected in one room, children and all, enjoying themselves. It was well into the night when you excused yourself briefly to see Taelon to bed before returning.

You’d just settled yourself back into your seat next to Aemond when Aegon rose from his own chair. “I’d like to make a final toast,” he begins. “to Taelon, first of his name, may he grow to be handsome, healthy... and Strong.”

Aemond rises from his seat so fast the front legs lifted off the ground and it fell back onto the floor. “I’ll have your blasphemous tongue for that, ” he growled through gritted teeth. His hand fell to the hilt of his sword and he began to pull it from its sheath before rounding the side of the table to meet his brother.

“I dare you to repeat yourself.” Aemond hissed as he raised his sword to Aegon. The Kingsguard did not draw their swords, instead choosing to shield themselves and the eldest prince. “And it shall be the last thing you ever do.”

Alicent rushed towards her sons, getting in between Aemon and the Kingsguard. “That is enough!” the queen demanded, “Put away your sword, Aemond.”

You stand from your seat, tired of the insolence, and you join Aemond’s side. “Queen Alicent is right, husband. There is no need to sink yourself to such lows as this drunkard.”

The two of you returned to your chambers where Taelon slept soundly in his cradle under the watchful eyes of your lady in waiting and two guards Aemond picked for Taelon specifically. You dismissed all three, knowing the guards would take up their post outside your chamber doors.

Aemond begins stripping down to his night clothes and you begin doing the same, keeping a watchful eye on your husband. You knew the rumors of Taelon not being Aemond’s son was beginning to get to him even though both of you knew there was no other contenders.

As the two of you began to settle into bed, you scoot as close to Aemond as physically possible. He chuckles softly before wrapping you up in his arms. He kisses your forehead, then presses a string of soft kisses onto your hairline.

“You should ignore your brother,” you whisper into the darkness. “He’s a fool who knows nothing of what it means to be a dutiful and loving father as you are. I’m confident Aegon doesn’t even know the twins’ names.”

Aemond laughs, “I suppose you’re right, my love...”

You sit up, placing your right hand on the pillow next to Aemond’s head for support. He reaches up to brush the long strands of your unbound hair that has fallen around your face. “What ails you, husband?”

He hesitates, eye searching your face for any sign of deceit. “I’m afraid of failing our son. Mine own father was never a constant in my life, and I fear this leaves me unable to father our son properly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you whisper. “I’ve seen the way you watch over him. I mean, the way you protected him tonight against Aegon’s words, that proves you are more than capable than watching over our son. I’ve never doubted you from the day I told you I was with child. From that day forth your only focus has been providing for and protecting your family. You’re an honorable man, Aemond. And the most capable father.”

Aemond rises to press your lips together in a quick kiss. When he lays back down he pulls you with him, resting your head on his chest. This way you can hear the hard thump of his heart beating in his chest, a sound so rhythmic and comforting you can’t help but be lulled by sleep.

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starogeorgina · 5 days

Text

𝐊𝐞𝐩𝐚

Paring: Daemon Targaryen × reader, Harwin Strong x reader, Criston Cole x reader

Warnings: Swearing, smut, child birth

1.03

You blink away unshed tears as you stare up at Ser Harwin; the look on his face was earth-shattering. No traces of anger or bitterness could be detected on his handsome face; the softness in his eyes made you feel nothing but guilt. You should never have believed the rumors, given into your husband's taunting or gone near Criston Cole.

You’re unaware that you’re crying until Harwin wipes them away with the pads of his thumb. “Prince Daemon told me your news; congratulations, princess.” He leans forward and kisses your forehead, and in a quiet voice, he says, “He also told me what he said to you. I wish I’d known sooner.”

Ser Harwin wasn’t a fool; he knew his beloved princess’s outburst of believing the rumors surrounding him and Princess Rhaenyra being true hadn’t come from thin air, but he had no idea Daemon was the one behind it. The Targaryen prince thrived in chaos, but after causing so much damage, the knight was grateful to be away from the keep for some time; otherwise, he might have done something to get himself executed.

“Do you forgive me?”

Harwin sighs, “There’s nothing to forgive. It was a misunderstanding.”

Pouting, you shake your head. “I should never have doubted you... henujagon īlva, valzȳrys.” (Leave us, husband.)

You wait until you hear Daemon leave; he didn’t need to be involved in your conversation, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist if he was within earshot. You take Harwin’s large hand in yours and say, “I love my husband; he’s the other half of me. Targaryens are made to burn together, but I love you too. I don’t know how to explain it; it’s a different kind of love. Since I was a girl, I always knew I’d marry Daemon, regardless of how I felt, but I chose to be with you. You make me feel safe and—”

“What is it you’re trying to tell me?” Harwin wipes away another fallen tear. “I’ve memorized each time you’ve confessed your love to me, which is how I know something is wrong. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I don’t know whose baby this is. I forgot to drink moon tea after the last time we lay together.”

His blue eyes fill with tears. “Prince Daemon will be the father.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your heart aches a little when Harwin hugs you; he was a good man. A far better person than you, Daemon, or Criston. He wasn’t selfish, violent, or entitled. You only wish you’d never questioned his loyalty to begin with.

“There’s something else I need to tell you.”

—

As the months passed, your body changed, and the gorgeous gowns you had made could no longer hide how large your bump had gotten. Rhaenyra often thought you were carrying more than one baby when your bump first started to swell, but now you were convinced she was right.

Daemon smooths his hand gently over the fabric of your dress, feeling the baby kick beneath. You were comfortable laying on your left side with multiple pillows fluffed around you to keep you in that position. Your husband lay behind you with his face nuzzling into the side of your neck.

“Have you spoken much with Ser Harwin?”

“No,” you say, feeling your lip tremble slightly. “Perhaps it is for the best; the less he is near during my pregnancy, the less people will talk.”

Daemon kisses your cheek. “The baby could look exactly like us, and the Greens would still gossip. I suspect the same will happen with Rhaenyra as soon as she has an heir.”

Your sister and her husband, Ser Laenor, had gone to visit various houses in the realm on behalf of your father, who was too ill to travel the distance himself. Although they had gone on dragonback, a large number of knights, including Ser Harwin, had been sent to protect them. When you confessed your antics with Cole to Ser Harwin, he was mad for a while but insisted he still wanted to be with you; he just needed some time.

“And what if the baby doesn’t look like us?” You knew no matter what, you’d love and protect your child fiercely, but you needed reassurance from Daemon. “I’ve been beyond foolish; I’ve given them the opportunity to make my child’s life miserable before they are even born.”

“I will cut out the tongues of anyone who dares question the legitimacy of our child. Any baby you have will be an extension of you; it would be impossible for me not to love them.” He rubs his hand along your stomach again. “This is my son or daughter growing inside you. Nothing anyone says will change that.”

—

“Princess, it’s time to push again.”

“I can’t! I can’t!” You sob, clutching onto the bed sheets tightly. The pain was overwhelming; you were convinced this is what dying felt like.

“Push!”

The midwives help guide you through the last few pushes until your daughter finally enters the room. She is placed on your chest, and you sob with happiness, “She’s perfect—oh fuck.”

Your daughter is quickly carried away to be cleaned up as the midwife pushes your legs open again. “Time to do this second time, princess.”

—

Daemon hums while gently rocking your daughter Daella to sleep, while your son Gaemon suckles at your breast. They were only a few hours old, but it already felt like you'd spent a lifetime loving them.

“Perhaps when you are feeling up to it, we can pick dragon eggs for the baby’s.”

You smile and say, “That would be nice.”

With Syrax having laid another clutch of dragon eggs, you were on your way to the dragon pit to pick one while being accompanied by your husband and sworn protector, but before you could leave the courtyard, your waters broke. Ser Harwin immediately picked you up and carried you back to your chambers, while Daemon sent for the maester and midwives.

“There, there,” Daemon says before gently placing your daughter into the crib next to your bed.

You smile down at her. Daella shares your pale complexion; her silver hair and the shade of her purple eyes were an exact match for yours. Gaemon got almost all his features from you, like his sister; his skin was pale and his hair silver, except his eyes were a dark brown.

“I think he’s had his feed,” you say when Gaemon stops feeding and his eyelids slowly start to close.

Daemon takes him from your arms so you can readjust your nightgown. He kisses the baby on the forehead. “They really are perfect.”

—

Sitting underneath the weirwood tree, she smiles as Daella attempts to walk along one of the thick roots sticking out of the ground, with your loyal knight Ser Harwin right behind her, ready to catch her the second she slips. Gaemon lays back, his head resting against your legs, as you read a story about dragons out loud. Both eggs had hatched in the cradle, and your children were now getting to the age where they understood how powerful and magical dragons are.

“Careful, princess,” Harwin says softly. “Slow down before you fall.”

Daella grins up at the knight before jumping onto a different root. It wouldn’t be long before curiosity got the better of her, and she attempted to climb the tree.

When screeching comes from the distance, Gaemon points to the sky and says, “Mama, look! It’s kepa!”

You look up and see the Blood Wyrm flying in the direction of the dragonpit. Daemon always made a point of returning from dragon riding before supper time so he could dine with his family. When you lower your gaze from the sky, you are met with the cold gaze of Ser Criston Cole. You often notice the knight observing your son and daughter from a distance, but he makes no attempt to interact with them.

Although Cole would never admit it, you had a feeling he would risk his life for them just as Daemon and Harwin would.

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Harwin takes one of the pebbled nipples into his mouth while you lean over him, your hands pressing against his chest. Daemon kisses the back of your neck, occasionally nipping at your sensitive skin with his teeth as he thrusts into you from behind. Over time, the three of you had come to an agreement that when the time came and you wished to have another baby, you and Harwin couldn’t fuck as you normally would, eliminating any chances of him getting you pregnant since you wouldn’t be drinking moon tea. But you still wanted to be intimate with Harwin, and your ever-devoted husband came up with an idea.

Daemon’s voice is cocky as he says, “So, Ser Harwin, how do you feel about our princess taking what she wants from us at the same time?”

Harwin grins. “Do you think you could take both of us?”

“Yes, I want you both.”

“Greedy girl!” Daemon smacks your ass.

Your heart races with anticipation at the thought of having both of them inside you at the same time. You're used to making love to them both, but this would feel different—more intimate, more primal. Harwin and Daemon had mutual respect for one another, but they mainly bonded over how much they loved your little family.

Your husband chuckles softly, his warm breath caressing your ear. “You’ll get what you desire, my love. I’ve bet you’ve thought about this plenty of times before, haven’t you?”

Feeling your cheeks heat up, you nod.

A princess is desperate to feel her husband and lover fill her up at the same time.

Daemon slowly withdraws his shaft from your cunny, leaving you aching for more. He sits down on the bed beside Harwin, but before you have the chance to move over to his lap, the knight hooks his hands under your thighs and pulls you up until you are hovering over his face. Not wasting time, Harwin starts flicking at your sensitive clit with his tongue.

Daemon smirks as he listens to your whine. He had already ‘prepared’ both your holes before Harwin joined you in the bedchamber. After coming apart on Harwin’s lips, Daemon gently pulls the small cock-shaped object from your anus, then pulls you onto his lap so you are facing him, and slides his cock into your cunny again.

He leans back and pulls you down with him, gripping your shoulders and spreading them while Harwin readjusts himself behind you. The thought of having them both causes your clitoral area to throb, “Please.”

Harwin guides his thick cock to where you’re aching for him. With a gentle nudge, he pushes past your resistance and enters your tight hole. You gasp as he fills you completely. The sensation of having them both inside you is foreign and exhilarating. Harwin begins to rock his hips gently, slowly pulling them out before pushing them back in again, while Daemon thrusts upwards at a harsher pace.

“How does it feel? Daemon asks, pinching your nipple between his fingers. “Good as you imagined?”

“So, so good.”

Your mind becomes hazy with pleasure when one of them starts rubbing fast circles on your clit. You come apart, squeezing both of them tightly. Harwin shoots his seed inside you, then Daemon follows shortly after, coating your cunny in his seed, which he will hopefully take.

The knight slowly pulls you out, then brushes your sweaty hair out of your face and kisses you deeply. Daemon smirks, “Take your time catching your breath, my good knight, as we will be here all night.”

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