#ser harwin imagine
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The Realm’s Princess- Harwin Strong
summary: Alyssa Targaryen, youngest daughter of Aemma and Viserys, lives a peculiar life
warnings: super long intro, wanted to give some back story to my OC :) I was really going to try to power through and make this one part, but it’s not happening
Alyssa Targaryen, the second daughter of Aemma and Viserys, was a surprise and a blessing for the then family of three. Aemma had spent 9 moons hoping for a boy, only to deliver a still born. As the woman had laid in bed, the midwives and her sisters trying to comfort her, the blonde had felt the labor pains again. Shortly there after, a pink and squawling newborn girl made her demands for attention known.
Rhaneyra was obsessed with her little sister. The oldest daughter was the realm’s delight, but Alyssa became the realm’s princess. Many small folk over the years would see the form of Veraxion, the bright white dragon who had been born from Alyssa’s cradle, and smile at the thought of the Princess on it’s back.
Alyssa made herself accessible to the people of King’s Landing. At the age on ten and one, the young lady was sneaking out of the keep to visit Flea Bottom. She would bring her allowance and shop the stalls before heading to the orphanages to spend the rest of her time and deliver the rest of her change.
(The girl would never need to know that her dramatic uncle followed her on every excursion, to ensure the little ones safety).
The people of the keep were hard pressed to find any issue with the youngest Princess. She always attended her studies, she was very kind to all of the workers in the keep. She was able to keep her Father and Uncle from killing each other with a look, and was able to bring her sister back down to earth when she found herself longing for freedom.
Aemma and Balerion’s death had taken a toll on young Alyssa. She had barely left her quarters, no matter how many times her sister begged it of her. She joined her father and sister for dinner when ordered, but the woman she spent most of her time with was her cousin Rhaenys.
It was the woman’s gentle but stern guidance that had Alyssa slowly returning to her normal self. Alyssa began to spend her time in the gardens once again, reading with her sister and a few ladies in waiting. The first time she trekked back into the city, was when Viserys had summoned his youngest to tell her about his upcoming marriage to Alicent Hightower.
Viserys wasn’t sure how he expected his daughter to take the news, but laughing in his face was not it. Alyssa, despite her kindness, had spent years hearing her uncle, Rhaenys and Corlys speak of the detrimental effect Otto Hightower’s influence would have on the King’s reign, and this was the biggest indicator yet.
Alyssa had been able to shake off Viserys, and then practically ran to visit Flea Bottom. As her father and one of her friends planned their wedding, her sister pouted, and her Uncle used his exile to participate in a war, Alyssa spent her time with the small folk once more. She used her father’s desire for a big happy family to ask for extra money to disperse among the people of King’s Landing, continuing through his wedding and the birth of his son, her brother Aegon.
For Rhaenyra, the current heir to the Iron Throne, the birth of their brother was one of the hardest moments of her life. While the older sister worried about succession, Alyssa found herself worried about her half-brother when she saw the way the newborn was thrust onto nurse maids, Allicent rarely with the young boy. So Alyssa found herself breaking into her brother’s nursery, sitting and reading with the boy in High Valyrian, and playing with him.
She had even been the one to drag her father to the Dragon Pit to pick out an egg for Aegon. By the time Allicent came around, Aegon was as obsessed with Alyssa as the rest of the realm was. Alyssa had been the one to take over planning the boy’s name day, even convincing Rhaneyra to spend time with their younger brother, to not see him as her competition, but as her family.
“Look at us, all together,” Viserys looked around the wheel house, Alyssa and Rhaneyra on one side with Aegon in the former’s lap, with his pregnant wife next to him, ignoring the other three.
“Should you be travelling in such condition?” Rhaneyra questioned Allicent as the auburn haired woman winced as they carriage went over some bumps.
“The Maester said fresh air will do me good,” the girl grimaced.
“Soon you two will be with your own children,” Viserys looked at his girls with pride. “And make me a proud Grandsire.”
Alyssa sighed as she felt Rhaneyra tense up next to her, Allicent talking about how easy having children was as the mid wives exchanged looks and gazed at Aegon who was more comfortable with his older sisters than his mother.
“You should ride out with me, join the hunt,” Viserys tried to invite his oldest, Rhaneyra quickly declining.
“It’s a hunt,” he sighed. “How would the two of you like to participate?”
“I shall hold onto Aegon I think,” Alyssa smiled, trying to break up the tension. “Someone will need to make sure no one kills themselves while you men go out and play.”
Viserys’ smile quickly turned to a frown as Rhaenyra asked why she should have to participate. Alyssa rubbed her sleeping brother’s back as the two Targaryen’s shouted, sighing as she felt the carriage slow as they approached the area chosen to celebrate Aegon’s name day.
Her father and Alicent exited first, while Alyssa waved off the wet nurse offering to take Aegon. With her brother sleepily blinking on her hip, the blonde reached down to grab up her skirts as she approached the steps. Her personal Kingsguard Ser Rodd began to approach the wheelhouse to offer her his hand, but he was blocked by a broad back.
“My Lady,” a deep voice interrupted Alyssa’s concentration, her eyes darting up to meet a pair of brown eyes shining with mischief. “May I?” Ser Harwin Strong offered the Princess his hand, which she accepted with a smile. He even grabbed up some of the spare fabric of her skirts to ensure she did not trip.
“Thank you Ser,” Alyssa bowed her head. “I think I would have never lived it down if I had fallen and made a fool of myself.”
“No one would ever think you a fool, Princess,” Harwin smiled as he escorted the woman to where her father was waiting, both their siblings staring at them in intrigue. “I hope to be able to see you later during the hunt, my Princess,” Harwin nodded with a grin, strutting off as Alyssa blushed and turned to offer Aegon to their father.
Alyssa and Rhaenyra entered the tent, Alyssa heading to a seated circle of ladies and Rhaenyra meandering around the area. Alyssa listened half heartedly to the gossiping women sitting with her and Alicent, but looked up when she heard heavy foot falls approach.
“Ah, Larys,” Alyssa smiled, beckoning the man over. The two of them were the most frequent visitors of the Red Keep’s many libraries, and had found themselves debating many topics over the time the man had joined his father at court. “Please sit,” she gestured to a chair, introducing the women to the youngest Strong lord.
The ladies continued on talking about the Stepstones, the women turning to Rhaneyra as she came through the curtains.
“Your Uncle is the brain behind this war, is he not?” Lady Ceira Lannister needled Rhaenyra, the young woman clearly uncomfortable.
“My Uncle and I have not spoken in years,” Rhaneyra stared at the Lannister woman.
“Since you supplanted him as heir,” Lady Ceira mused.
“Since the King of the Seven Kingdom’s named her his rightful heir,” Alyssa said sharply, Lady Ceira looking to the normally soft spoken Princess in shock. “You should have care of how you speak Lady Lannister.”
Alyssa levied the older woman with a sharp stare, before getting out of her chair and walking out of the tent. The youngest Princess walked her way around the camp, saying hello to the court goers she knew and checking in on the animals who were being prepared for the hunt. She couldn’t deny she felt the penetrating gaze coming from the area the Lord of Harrenhal had settled his house in, meeting Ser Harwin’s gaze more than once before the sight of her sister storming out of the tent caught her attention.
“Rhaneyra?” Alyssa called as she hurried to where her sister was mounting her horse. The girl paid no attention to her sister, galloping off as Alyssa went to climb on her own horse to follow her sister, and then Criston Cole.
“No Princess,” a gruff voice called out as large arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her away from her horse. “You must not.”
“Let me go!” she squirmed for a moment before realizing she would never catch up with them at this point. She huffed and stilled her body, waiting for the arms to release her before turning around with a glare. “Ser Harwin, next time you should just let me go.”
“Ah, but then I would have to give chase,” the man smirked at the glare on her face. “Ser Cole will bring her back, I can assure you.”
Alyssa begrudgingly agreed with him, turning to head back to the tent. “Would you like to join my sisters and I before the evening meal?” Harwin called out as she retreated. She stopped in her tracks, thinking it over before turning around.
“Let me see if my brother is awake,” she smiled at the heir to Harrenhal as he grinned back, heading back to his own tent. Aegon was in fact sitting up silently in his crib, almost waiting for her. After grabbing a blanket in case he got cold, the Princess carried her brother back to the camp site where she joined Harwin, his sisters Shaena and Jane, and Larys.
Alyssa mostly observed the family as she sat there for the next few hours. The girls cooed over the Prince of course, and the Princess asked the girls how they were finding life in the Red Keep. Knowing how hard it was to grow up as a woman in the castle, Alyssa made a note to spend more time with the Strong girls as the evening approached.
After returning her brother to the wet nurses, Alyssa decided to not spend her evening alone at the head table, and returned to feast with the Strong house. Lord Lyonel had joined them for the evening meal, finding himself very pleased that the Princess was showing his girls attention he knew that were lacking. Alyssa ignored the drama she could see her father participating in between Jason Lannister and Otto Hightower lurking, immersing herself in the stories the girls were telling her of their older brothers, both of whom denied every tale.
The camp woke slowly the next morning, the King riding out with many of the men to hunt. Alyssa broke her fast with Aegon and Alicent, the two women sitting silently, the only noises being Aegon’s babbles. After eating she made her way back out of the tent and was pleased to see Shaena and Jane sitting outside with books open. The Princess headed over, asking if she could join them.
As Larys and Harwin joined them, the girls became entranced as Alyssa told stories of her adventures with Veraxion. Harwin found himself smiling as he listened to the girl wax poetic about her dragon, skinning a rabbit he had caught earlier in the day. The girls all looked up as they noticed the camp go quiet, staring at the blood covered Rhaneyra walking through the camp. Alyssa said a hurried goodbye to the Strong children, chasing after her sister to help her clean up and get the story of her night before they returned to the keep.
Alyssa was shocked to be summoned to the Small Council chambers the next morning. “Good morning father,” she greeted as Ser Harrold admitted her into the room, before closing the door with Ser Rodd by his side.
“Good morning my sweet,” Viserys smiled as Alyssa kissed his cheek before settling into the chair at his side. “I wanted to tell you, your sister is to go on a tour of Westeros these next months to search for a betrothal match.”
“Ah, good,” Alyssa nodded. Her sister would feel much better about a marriage if she had a say. “Would you ask me to go with her?”
“Not this time,” her father shook his head. “I want you to do your own searching for a match.” Alyssa nodded in agreement. It’s not like she did not know she would have to be married soon enough. “And while your sister is gone, I had hoped you would be able to help the Small Council on a matter.”
“Me?” Alyssa asked in surprise. “I would of course be honored. How can I help the council?”
“It has been brought to our attention the issues in Flea Bottom are not getting better,” Viserys sighed. “It has also come to my attention, that you may have some, let us say, insights, over what may be the most helpful to the people.”
Alyssa blushed at the knowledge that her father had clearly been told about her trips to the city. “I would like you to meet with the leaders in Flea Bottom, and find out where we can be the best help. We are prepared to supply money, grain, wool, and can talk about other supplies if needed.”
“You will be sending me to Flea Bottom?” Alyssa asked in shock.
“Only occasionally,” Viserys smiled. “I would like you to take some of your meetings here, so the people can see the crown supports this endeavor. But when you do go to Flea Bottom, you will have an escort.”
“And I assume you have someone in mind if not Ser Rodd?” Alyssa eyed her fathers smirk.
“Yes,” he nodded to the cup bearer who headed to the door. Alyssa had to hold back her grin as the man was admitted.
“Ser Harwin Strong is to be our newest member of the City Guard,” Viserys looked between the two of them. “While he will be your protector on these trips, my hope is he will be able to learn more about the city and how best to keep it safe.”
“An admirable mission,” Alyssa smiled softly, her grin widening as Harwin winked at her across the table.
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♕ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʇɐᴚ ʇǝǝɹʇS ǝɥ⊥—ᴀ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ǝpıɹԀ
♕ A/N: Ahhhh here is The Prince and The Street Rat—A Game of Pride. So this was originally always where the story was going but for a minute I did consider taking it an alternative direction. If I did change it though every hint of this ending throughout the chapters would be some meaningless. There is one more part to this story. Let me know what you think, comments are a great motivator! Thank you for enjoying this story with me😁.
♕ SUMMARY: The world works in mysterious ways and so does the residents of Kings Landing. One never knows what they find in the alleyways and rooftops. Whores, drunks, knights, thieves, sometimes even Princes.
♕ WORD COUNT: 5.9K
♕ WARNING: Nothing out of the ordinary 🕺🏽
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Swallowing thickly, you exit the room with Aemonds cloak covering your shoulders. Your dismissal lacks directives, the guards trailing behind you aimlessly. The corridors are still more maze than familiar, finding your way through without thought.
“(Y/n)!” Taliya exclaims, rising to her feet taking two steps forward. You step back, staring as though a puzzle sits before you. Biting the inside of your cheek, Daltis blinks, studying you without pause.
"I want the truth. Did Cayde die for some foolish cause of having me rise in station?" Narrowing your eyes, Taliya turns to Daltis, who wears a face of stone. Bawling your fists, your head tilts as you meet Daltis's gaze. You grimace, barely above a whisper, "Do not lie to me."
"No. He died because he loved you. He knew not of these dealings—of the hope a Flea Bottom girl has inspired in thousands," A breathless cry leaves your lips, clutching the Targaryen cloak without care of the shooting ache through your muscles. Thousands.
"I will not be the face of an injudicious movement. The weaponization of my familiarity with the Prince is an act of treason. This cause will come with senseless deaths in my name. I will not bear this. I won't," Somethings never change. Not your stubbornness or Daltis's patience. All these years and still, your defiance shines, exhausting your elders.
"Do tell what Flea Bottom girl speaks as you do. Stands as you do, flouts about amongst high Lords and Princes. You have cemented your place in the histories. Done things no other has and lived to tell the tale. No matter how fast you run, how cunning you are—(Y/n) you cannot escape this," Daltis's gruff tone commands the room as a Lord Commander demands his men. A reminder of the strength that allows his underground dealings to flourish. Your grimace softens, lips trembling into a strangled cry. A long sigh leaves Daltis as you wipe away your tears before they build, "You are the very best of your father. Do better than he. Put trust in this. It is you who will better the realm. The world will never forget (Y/n) Rivers, I am certain of it."
Alicent structures your day-to-day with heavy vigilance. Roslyn aids you in the mornings and nights. Breakfast consists of terse silences leaving Taliya failing to garner conversation beyond the briefest of words. After you sit for lessons in etiquette and houses.
Alicent structures your day-to-day with heavy vigilance. Roslyn aids you in the mornings and nights. Breakfast consists of terse silences leaving Taliya failing to garner conversation beyond the briefest of words. After you sit for lessons in etiquette and houses.
The days seemingly never end. You are Helaena's companion in your free hours. Joining her for walks, reading to or with her in the Godswood, and her favorite part of the day—braiding her hair.
"I hear you jumped from Vermax into the Bay. Far above the water and land," Helaena says, smiling gently in the mirror. You make careful work of lacing her hair with flowers. Not looking up to meet her gaze. Your second dance with death floods your memory.
"Rather pushed. I fear the story muddles in my memory. I cannot recall great detail," Helaena's smile widens as you finish her braid, using a flower to lock the ends. You offer a tight-lipped smile.
"I hear songs sung of your fearlessness. The people are quite fond of you. As am I," The young Queen's eyes shine with a level of obliviousness never known to you. A childlike glow. Forcing a broader smile to your lips, your stomach turns. No one speaks of your time with the Velaryon Prince, not to you, at least. The whispers and rumors fall deaf on your ears. You place your hand on her shoulder, offering a gentle squeeze.
"I am nothing but a humble servant. While your praises honor me, I am just a girl," Helaena shakes her head, placing her hand on your own. She looks up at you over her shoulder. The light squeeze of her hand earns a strained smile, and the moment ends as swiftly as it begins. A distant stupor seizing the eccentric Queen.
"Ablaze be the city as the bells ring, surrender leaving only the river," Helaena blinks with a shake of her head, rising to her feet with a giddy smile. She spins in the mirror, gushing at how the white flowers compliment her lilac gown.
"I beg your pardon?" You say, but she only reiterates her love of the flowers in her braid. Shaking your head, you take her hands. Meeting her gaze with urgency, "Before that, your grace. Your mumblings. You have shared them before."
Helaena frowns, your grip on her hands firm. She tilts her head, letting her shoulders fall, her eyebrows pulling knit, "The bells?"
Helaena turns to her mirror and grabs her earrings from her table, fastening them as a servant announces Aemond's arrival.
"My apologies for the intrusion. Lady (Y/n), can I have a moment of your time?" You glance at Helaena, who only smiles. He rubs his thumb along his fingers, carefully tucked at his sides. Aemond gestures to Helaena's empty library, allowing you to go first. You cross the room with your hands clasped before you, saying nothing as he closes the door behind you. Meeting your gaze, the room stills, neither of you eager to speak first. At the break of silence, you almost fail to hear the low him of his voice, "How are you?"
"You disappeared before my departure to Rivverrun. Then avoid me for weeks, and rather than presenting an explanation or anything for this new life thrust upon me, you inquire of how I am? We both know very well your grace, the answer expected of me as a proper lady," Your jaw clenches, eyebrows creasing in disbelief. He mutters an apology that drowns beneath your scoff. Shaking your head, a mirthless laugh leaves you. Squaring your shoulders, you supplant exasperation with a courteous smile, "I thank you, my lord, for your care of my well-being."
"Don't do that. Do not close me out," He's across the room, standing before you in seconds. You stare up at him, narrowing your eyes with an incredulous glint.
"The Dowager Queen made her expectations clear. What is it you want me to say, Prince Aemond? My fear is of no import. My lack of protection in the Keep walls concerns no one. So why bother shouting when no one will hear me?" You shove him back, one push becoming three, three becoming five before he stands pressed to a wall. He makes no effort to stop you, the dejection in his demeanor fueling your fire. He mutters you are right, halting the assault you inflict upon him. Your hands trembling as his words cut through your anger with ease. You release a strangled cry of frustration, stepping away as you run your hands over your face.
"I am sorry, (Y/n). The mess I have made of your life is a wrong I cannot undo. My selfishness has brought us here, but I swear to you. Ask of me anything in the realm of possibility, and it is yours," You drop down onto a chair, your leg bouncing incessantly beneath you. Realm of possibility. A gentle reminder of the reins that hold you steady. Little to no leverage to support your wish to leave. You stare off, focusing on nothing, in particular, the bounce of your leg coming to an abrupt stop. Aemond saying nothing as your face turns to stone.
"Break your oath to the Baratheon girl. Wed yourself to me," The words leave your lips without a second of reconsideration. Before your very eyes, the gentle Prince vanishes. Aemond's gaze darkens, a sneer taking his features.
"Do not toy with me," Aemond seethes, pacing the room like a caged animal. You rise to your feet, his theatrics doing little to curb your composure.
"I do not jest. I do not love you as you wish me to, but I do love you, my childhood companion. This marriage is not to appease you but of self-interest. Your mother is right; you have endangered me so. The assassination of a Prince's whore is of no consequence, but a Targaryen Princess? That comes with a hefty debt to be paid, a costly one. Your brother will gain the favor of the common people in light of our union, further solidifying his claim to the throne. You trapped me in this storm, now aid me in weathering it," Your perfect posture and level head conceal all evidence of your parentage—your history. A known girl through the streets of Kings Landing.
You speak plainly, watching Aemond blink vehemently. His eyes scan the room aimlessly. The offer of his dreams, and he stands like a bumbling halfwit. You bite your bottom lip, your chuckle filling the silence. Aemonds incertitude written across his face, "Quite the love story you and I, huh? They'll sing songs of our love. The poets will write ceaselessly of faux tales of the long journey that brought us to our union. One of passion and wild romance."
Helaena skips through the doors hooking her arm through your own, announcing it's time for supper. You half nod in Aemond's direction, leaving the room without another word. Like breakfast with Cayde's parents, dinner with the Royal family carries on in agonizing silence. If Aegon's drunk enough, he entertains you all with his nonsense that reminds you all of the imbeciles who sits the Iron Throne. Tonight he sits fiddling with his potatoes with the focus of a maester performing a procedure. The clanging of cutlery against plates fills the air.
"Your hair looks lovely this evening, my girl," Otto beams at Helaena, an earnest you would not believe was there without witnessing firsthand.
"Thank you, Grandsire. (Y/n) did it for me. She is very good at braiding," Helaena leans her head on your shoulder, smiling up at you before retreating to her food. Otto nods his head, his gaze cutting to you.
"Very impressive lady (Y/n)," You bring your cup to your lips to cover the scoff that edges to the surface. Taking a long gulp, you lower the cup displaying a dazzling smile. The Lord Hand only chuckles, turning to his food as his daughter wears a pointed stare. You stare back with a blank exterior, giving no inkling of submission.
"I have an announcement to make," All eyes move to Aemond. Grabbing your chalice once more, you raise an eyebrow as his eyes meet your own. On his feet, even Aegon refocuses his gaze from his plate to his brother. "I am to wed the Lady (Y/n)."
You continue eating even as Otto turns to you. The clang of Alicent's fork against her plate echoes through the hall. Helaena's claps in approval fall into her lap as her mother pinches the bridge of her nose. Aegon's eyes bounce between yourself and his mother, chuckling while reaching for Helaena's glass. He takes several gulps of it as Alicent reminds her second-born of his betrothal to Floris Baratheon.
"Why in the seven hells would we break our needed alliance with the Baratheons?" Alicent focuses her glare on you as she speaks to Aemond, her father's gaze never leaving your calm composure. You bring a fork of potatoes to your lips, chewing slowly as your skin crawls the room granting you audience.
"The favor of the people. People of Kings Landing know her. Tales of her exploits have swept the realm. The people love her. Wed her to our Aemond. A common girl to a Targaryen creates an illusion. They say Targaryens are closer to the Gods than men, and with their union comes a fantasy. That of the low-borns being closer to Targaryens. Closer to the Gods. Bringing much-needed favor to Aegon's claim to the throne," The twinkle in Otto's eyes brings you pause. He turns to Alicent with a pleased expression as she openly gapes. She questions the solution to appeasing Boris Baratheon, a simple fix. The promise of Aegon's heir to a Baratheon child, the promise of a Baratheon with a Royal title. A pipe dream.
"Well, then, I believe congratulations are in order. To my brother and his lovely bride-to-be. A wonderful addition to the family indeed," Aegon grins like a madman raising Helaena's cup as he stares at you. You raise your own cup, the falsity of your gratitude covering nausea plaguing your gut. The ache of shackles that forever bind you. A Targaryen Princess.
The Green Council are the first to learn the news. You sit relishing in Lord Lannisters sneer. No one dares to question your presence or the need for an emergency meeting. Your smile grows as Otto makes the announcement. Lord Lannisters eyes widen as silence takes the room. Otto regales their rationale briefly, shifting to the true purpose of the meeting, the expectations of your own and Aemond's union.
Word spreads like wildfire with the summons of all Lords in the realm expected to be in attendance. House Baratheon coined an honored guest. An array of events carefully crafted by the Green Council.
Escorts by the King's Guard through the city, a stroll through the markets. Many familiar faces do not miss the opportunity to congratulate you, feigning more familiarity than necessary. Both you and Aemond are present at food banquets, personally handing food to the needy of the city. Low rides on Vhagar showcasing your unheard-of betrothal, a Prince, and a nameless girl.
You go from a pawn to a show pony in a blink of an eye. How delightful. Overnight your wardrobe changes drastically. Hightower green at the forefront, if not green, then an emblem skillfully sewn to the bodice. You say nothing about the constant changes in your environment. Each day brings a new public outing, carefully orchestrated by the King's privy council down to the styling of your hair. Feeding off the fondness the common people share for you. Outside these outings, Aemond often disappears, and every inquiry of where earns long silences.
"Very lovely choice, your Grace," Roslyn laces the back of your gown. The fabric traps your body's heat.
"Must I wear this all night?" You squirm, rolling your neck, relishing in the light pops of your muscles. Roslyn chuckles as you grumble about the gown choice not being your own.
"Smile, my lady. Today you make history. (Y/n) Rivers. A Targaryen Princess. Your betrothed wished to start your day with a surprise," You shiver against the cold against your skin. The blue sapphire sitting between your collar bones. Bringing your hand to the shimmering gem, your back stiffens.
"He gifted me this?" You turn as she finishes tying the gown. Her smile widens as she nods. Chewing your bottom lip, you turn back to the mirror. Closing your eyes, the faint hum of water plays at your skin's edges. You take a deep breath basking in faux weightlessness.
"What do you think?" Aemond's lips pursed as you stood before him. Your lips gapped as no words left you. The silence in the room was without a hint of its beginning or end. He released a heavy sigh, muttering a slew of regrets as he adjusted his eye patch.
"Prince Aemond One-Eye. The most fearsome warrior in all of Westeros. I think when read in the histories, you shall sound quite legendary," Your hands grab his wrists, the eye patch resting on his eyebrow. A tight-lipped smile on your lips as you looked into his eye. You moved slowly, not taking your eyes off his lone one. The removal of his eyepatch came with a deep shudder from the young Targaryen.
"I—do you ever yearn for something you cannot have?" Aemond shifted on the balls of his feet as he dropped his gaze.
You chuckled while deeming him a fool, "There's plenty Flea Bottom girls yearn for that they can never have. If I had to say, then I would say family. But whilst looking at yours, I fear maybe not."
"We're family. You and I."
"Are you alright?" You wet your lips, opening your eyes with a deep exhale. The chamber doors open with a quick knock, Taliya offering Roslyn a half nod.
"It's time," She says warmly, holding out her hand with a wide smile. Neither of you says a word whilst journeying to your carriage. A sea of guards surround you at every turn. The open top leaves you privy to watching eyes. Gripping Taliya's hand, the whites of your knuckles contrast the rest of your palm. "All will be well."
Her touch gentle as the guards lift you both up from the ground. The march out of the Keep reveals cries of excitement through the streets. Smiles greet you with urgent calls of hello. Your mind awaits the second you open your eyes to greet the sun beaming down on your hammock. It never comes. The many faces blend into an indiscernible crowd chanting in unison.
(Y/n)!
(Y/n)!
(Y/n)!
"Smile. They love you," Your gaze cuts to Taliya. She smiles happily at the city's people as though it's a common occurrence. No longer a nameless face in the crowd but the cause of the gathering. A weak smile takes your lips, the Sept drawing near in the distance.
Soldiers struggle against the masses who fill the road to see you, just a girl, on her wedding day. Swallowing thickly, you raise your hand, earning a thunderous roar of cheer. The soldiers stop at the Sept stairs. Daltis stands at the bottom behind a row of soldiers. He dons fine blue silks, with ripple stitching decorating his lapel—matching his wife.
"It's quite strange. Despite all he has brought to my life, I question if I can do this," Squeezing Daltis's hand, you pull him close, shielding your trembling form from onlookers. Holding back a shudder from wracking your body, you release a mirthless laugh, "I scheme for the Black Queen."
Daltis meets your misty eyes with a sharp gaze. The wordless interaction lasts mere seconds before he nudges his head toward the Sept. You grip your skirts, stabilizing your feet as Daltis continues with a smile ghosting on his lips.
"Did you not hear me?" Tugging at his arm at the top of the steps, the blinding shine of the sun matters little. Dalits turns to the crowd with a wave, fueling their cheers that fill the air.
"Your machinations are for the good of the realm, are they not? Why bother looking back? You're not going that way," The squeeze of his hand on your own comes with a quiet that clashes against the many yelling patrons behind you.
At the top of the stairs, you look up where the structure's edge meets the sky. The ground beneath you exists in mind only. You know you stand before the people of King's Landing, an indisputable truth.
Yet still, your body lays, the soft ripples of the Bay swaying your limbs above the surface. Just because you don't get it right away doesn't mean you will not.
The moments blur into a peculiarity unknown to you. You take note of every second from the moment you step into the Sept. The eyes of strangers watching your every move, all trained in the art of neutrality. Deceit beneath boards.
The eye of Aemond stays on you as though no other exists in the world. His boards now dismantled, adoration painting his features. Dalits drums his fingers against your palm the entire way without faltering, and you spare each other mere glances. His eyes find Aemond, the wordless transaction leaving to a path you have long traveled. To the House of Dragons.
Even now, as the world erases history, your mind screams reminders of the past. Before you stands a blubbering young Prince eager for his own dragon. In front of him? Not a woman grown, not a Targaryen Princess, but a sharp-tongued Flea Bottom girl—a bastard, oh the irony. Two children, spouting vows lost on the schemes of larger powers.
"The love of the Seven is holy and eternal. The source of all life and love. We stand here tonight in thanks and praise to join two souls as one. Father. Mother. Warrior. Smith. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. Hear now their vows," Inhaling sharply, your gaze stays on Aemond. Your eyes cut to your hand bound to Aemond's by ribbon, the tremble of your hand clear.
"I am his, and he is mine."
"I am hers, and she is mine."
His lips on your own reveal the tether tied all those years prior while two fools scaling an alleyway wall. Oblivious of all to come. A fate only the Gods could foresee.
On the Sept stairs, you both wave, masks of joy painting your expressions. In your carriage, away from the prying eyes, you both find yourselves watching the other.
"Are you alright?" You break the silence, fiddling your fingers in your lap. Aemond's eye travels from your own to the sapphire between your collarbones. The silence deafening.
"I had hoped you'd want this as much as I. Have I doomed us?" He speaks barely above a whisper, watching as your eyes focus on your fingers. You lift your shoulders, dropping them with a childlike huff. The calls of your name make your head snap up, and your eyebrows pull knit.
"Princess (Y/n)!"
"Princess (Y/n)!" Aemond chuckles softly to himself, the voices of many filling the carriage. Your eyes lock with his own, a faint smile on your lips. We'll figure it out, you mouth, a weak smile taking your lips.
Stepping into the grand hall hand in hand, a line of congratulations awaits you. Aegon toasts to Aemond and yourself, announcing Boris Baratheon as an honored guest. You narrow your eyes as Aemond grins to himself, the servants setting out an array of dishes.
"By the gods!" Reaching forward, the familiar Dornish candy garners stick between your fingers. The sweet mixing with the sour on your tongue pulls a hum of approval from your lips. Aemond chuckles, sipping his wine, "Well, you're the clear culprit behind this. This is my favorite of all sweets."
"I'm aware I specifically requested it. Aemond the generous remember," He says. A soft chuckle leaves your lips, turning forward, your cheeks burning as you scan the room with wary eyes. Nothing. Not a single element of the festivities sit out of place, your stomach somersaulting as your heart hammers. The high merriment and endless wine do little to pull your avid overview of the feast.
"Are you alright?" Aemond's hand finds your knee. His eyebrows pull knit as you offer a contrived smile. "We can retire early if you like."
"No, I guess I'm just not used to so much attention," You murmur, looking around the room once more. It all remains the same. If the Rogue Prince plans to strike, he offers no clear warning to you.
In the corner of your eye, you watch Aemond follow your careful scan of the room. His eye narrows, swallowing thickly as your corset becomes a slow choking death. He knows. Your frantic state hides beneath a blank stare. Rising to his feet, an eerie smile takes his lips, "I have a surprise for you."
"Uxoricide is frowned upon, I've heard," You joke, failing to break the pressure that holds your chest. Aemond only rolls his eyes. His smile faint as he guides you toward the dance floor. The crowd parts like the sea in a wise old tale. Nobles make haste at the sight of your presence, offering bows and curtsies in reverence except for one.
The coils of her hair strike you first, a clear connection as only one other in the room shares such a rare look in Westeros. Your strides slow as you take her in from a distance, almost trailing behind Aemond as a result. Her skin glows beneath the candlelight like your own, her parentage and connection to yourself without a shadow of a doubt.
You come to an abrupt stop. Aemond's body jerks back to find you akin to a statue. Staring forward like a woman possessed, your eyes glaze over as your mind scrambles to make sense of who stands before you. Aemond returns to your side, his touch cautious as his breath tickles the shell of your ear.
"My absence in recent weeks has been little to do with the pending war. Your father's Pentosi background proved to be a challenge, even I could not conquer it, but Dorne was not. This is Syva, your mother's mother," Syva stands with a gentle smile, and her eyes crinkle in the corners. You turn to your husband, swallowing the fire that bubbles in your throat, willing the tears to remain in your ducts.
None of you move, Aemond pursing his lips, likely scrutinizing his actions to deem them good or bad. It's Syva who breaks the standoff. She stands before you taking your hands with a gasp.
"By the gods. You look just like her, my Mala," She cries, a misty haze in her eyes. Mala, her name was Mala. Aemond greets her with a familiarity that rings truth to his recent absences. You watch as your grandmother places her hands on both of his cheeks, thanking him profusely. Words evade you, your throat drying as Aemond excuses himself. His smile beaming as he passes you, joining some nameless Lord not too far from your shrinking form. Opening your mouth to speak, nothing leaves you. "I imagine you have many questions for me, dear girl. Not for a second do I ever want you to think I didn't want you. Pranar…your father, He and I never truly saw eye to eye. When I got word of his—I looked for you, but I just couldn't seem to find you. For a time, I thought maybe you had been taken too."
Lacing your fingers in her own, your lips tremble into a crumbling smile. The music and dancing around you now distant fixtures in a grand hall far beyond anything you know. Syva smiles, wiping the salty tears from your cheek, disregarding the few who whisper of you both. "Oh, but look at you now. A Targaryen Princess. From the day you were born, a force like no other."
"Please, grandmother, join us. I wish to know you. To know my mother," Your request leaves you in a raspy plea. Syva chuckles, urging you to remember yourself.
"You are no Lady or nameless Princess of some quaint Realm. You are a Princess from the House of Dragon Riders, dear. I have no place at that table with you, but if you'll have me here at court, I would be honored to know you," Swallowing the ache of your cheeks, your smile does not falter. Nodding your head like a giddy child, you swear to her she's more than welcome, confessing familiarity to be what you most desire. "I have heard the tales of your husband. The cruel Prince, the kinslayer. And that may all be true, but the fervor that boy carries for you, dear. You don't see that every day."
Following Syva's gaze, your eyebrows raise at the outlandish sight. Aemond stands with his brother, a boisterous laugh consuming the two—a new cup in his hand. You excuse yourself from your grandmother, promising to find her before the night's end. At Aemonds side, you ask the dragons to share what humors them so fervently. A pause sits between the three of you as Aegon retells his tasteless joke leaving Aemond to shift on the balls of his feet. The frivolity of your laugh breaks the ice leaving the three of you in a band of grins.
You find Aemond already looking at you as the laughter dies down. No longer at your wedding feast but on your rooftop without a care in the world. Smirking up at him, he narrows his eyes, raising his eyebrows.
"My apologies, my Lord, I almost mistook you for my husband, Prince Aemond. About this tall, a brooding Maester with love for awfully boring things. Such as philosophy and history," Aemond chuckles, intercepting his next cup of wine you down it lacing your fingers into his own. A gag leaves your lips silently, cursing the Lannisters and their coveted Lannisport wine, "While this arrangement may not have been my hearts to desire. I give you my word, I will try."
"Are you certain of this? If today marks the day I become dragon food, the history will write of the Kings Landing Bastard who haunts the Targaryen dynasty," You whined as Aemond rolled his eyes. He walked several paces ahead of you, practically dragging you to the Dragon Pit.
"We are bonded. Even now, Vhagar knows of my care for you. She will not harm you," Aemond insisted. You halted in place as she came into view, your eyes wide as Aemond tugged at your arm to go with him.
"You ride that?" You visibly gulped as Aemond grinned with pride. Aemond's pleasure did not falter at the hesitancy that seized your body. You squeezed your eyes shut, allowing him to guide you, the low rumbles of Vhagar making every muscle in your body tense.
"Lykirī! Dohaerās!" Aemond rested his hand on top of your own as he pressed your palm flat upon the beast's scaly skin. Your eyes remained shut as you pushed back into Aemond's chest. “Vhagar, rhaenagon issa jorrāelagon.”
"What's that mean?" You asked, eyes still clamped shut. The low rumble of the world's largest dragon eased beneath your fingers. Aemond only chuckled, the warmth of his hand atop your own gone without warning. Your eyes whipped open, "Aemond!"
"Avy jorrāelan," Aemond rests his head against your own, Aegon grumbling as he abandons the two of you in the center of the dance floors.
"What's that mean?" Meeting his gaze, your chest knots, weaponizing incompetence easily. If he knows, he reveals nothing studying your face with a smile akin to a giddy child. Cayde sits in your mind, the lines of your morality blurring. Have I betrayed him? Does he hate me?
"At the latest hour, leave with me on Vhagar. There's a home for us in Dorne, isolated enough to hide Vhagar close enough to Sunspear for you to find work, which I know you enjoy. I can dedicate my days to my studies and to a new life. Syva lives in Sunspear. You can know her—our children can know her. She helped me with all this. It's your family home," You stumble from his hold, an incredulous look in your eyes. Onlookers eager to be privy to the dealings of the odd marital pairing.
"What of your family? Your sense of duty and pride would never allow such fantasies, so what is this?" You narrow your eyes, practically hissing as you visibly seethe. No care for the crowd that forms around you.
"You and me, this friendship is my greatest accomplishment. My pride and joy. You're my family. My duty is to you. This marriage is an oath I will not break. I love you," You cannot evade this, his words clear. Aemond pulls you back in, his smile unfazed by your venom. The fury that bubbles in your chest renders you silent, the weight of his words crushing you, "Feel no obligation to say it back, for my words are nothing. I have broken every oath to you, but I love you, and I wish to show you rather than tell you. A home away from all this awaits us. Let's start our lives together. No Iron Throne. No Hightowers or Targaryens. No Royal drama. We can be happy. I can make you happy."
"I—" Your eyes flutter shut, opening and closing as your vision splinters. Stumbling forward, Aemond takes your hands as the room turns, a fog consuming you whole as your body melts into your husband.
“(Y/n)?” A faint ding reaches your ears, drowned by a chorus of gasps. You whip your head toward the doors, following the gaze of the masses. A Kings Guard stumbles to his knees, clutching his throat. Crimson red paints the floor, Aemond muttering of it being one of his niece and nephew's guard. The clanging of his armor to the ground echoes through the room, a barrage of screams following, the room descending into utter chaos. The Rogue Prince.
"Aemond?" You cry. Violent gags jerk your neck forward, your vision blurring and refocusing as it pleases. The buckle of your knees comes with the chill of the hard floor beneath you. Aemond cradles you close as legs race around you in an endless flurry.
"I need Maesters now!" The ferocity of his screams small against the thunderous screams of scattering nobles. You clutch his shoulders, a strangled cry leaving your lips, a raging pressure setting your windpipe ablaze, holding you captive.
"The b—" Your eyes wide as he screams for a maester a final time turning his attention to you. A loud cry leaves his lips as his eye lock with your wide ones, terror dancing in them as you frantically grasp at his shoulders. Your nails claw his skin as though holding him keeps you tethered to the earth.
Head tilting back, the sky blue sky greeting you with the beaming of the blindingly hot sun. Taking a deep breath, your chest swells at the ease that comes with the taken-for-granted task. Water creeps further up on the sides of your head, a cramp shoots through your chest. You jerk forward, a hand flat on your back, keeping you above the surface.
"Dad?" A frown takes your lips, and in a blink of an eye, the dark ceiling and strands of white take your vision. Your lips crumble as a cry leaves your lips once more, finite doses of air invading your windpipe.
"It's going to be okay. Issa jorrealagon. I'm right here," Aemond coos. Wiping your tears from your cheek, he pulls you to his lap. His voice wavers and cracks as he rocks you both back and forth. "We'll name our little girl Mala, like your mother. I pray to the gods she looks like you, but she'll be a brooder, and you'll hate it—I just know it. And a son, we'll name Cadis to honor your friend. He'll be every bit of you. He'll have your laugh and your distaste for anything scholarly. I'll steal eggs for them from Dragonstone. No child of ours will go without a dragon. We'll be happy, our little family. Can't you see it?"
Violent tremors cut through your body, specs of black dancing across your vision. Each of your senses collapses into each other except one. A clear ringing sits in your ears, the tintinnabulation becoming your focus. The bells. Aemond takes your hand in his own, your hands trembling as your mouth opens. He leans down, your breathing low and choppy.
The line between consciousness and unconsciousness blurring. Reality collapsing into a dull nothingness with no beginning or end. No husband and wife. In Kings Landing of all places.
Home to the vile, cruel, and everything in between.
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HERE AGAIN
43. “Go on ride my thigh.” WITH HARWIN
knight in shining armor.
When the Red Keep is attacked, Ser Harwin is the one in charge of your protection. Spending the night by your side, he finds it hard to keep his emotions under control.
MASTERLIST
PAIRING — Harwin Strong x Targ!Fem!Reader.
TAGS — fluff (a bit too much, I'm sorryy), smut —thigh riding, nipple play, oral fixation, praise, virgin!reader, dirty talk—, sexual tension, descriptions of nudity, mentions of blood and violence, murder. If something is missing let me know!!
AUTHOR'S NOTE — small context: here the dance of the dragons doesn't happen, Rhaenyra never fucked Harwin and the greens and blacks are a lovey dovey family. Long live fanfiction for this. A big, big thank you to @bucknastysbabe for beta reading this!! Ilysm!!🤍
My baby bel, i think i put a bit too much fluff into the mix while writing this, but i hope you like it and enjoy it. Ilyy🤍
WORD COUNT — 3.6k
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.
A thunderous sound woke you up from your peaceful slumber. By looking around in the darkness of your chambers, you could tell something was wrong; a strange atmosphere appeared in the air, something odd that brought an inexplicable chill in your spine. You arose from your bed, walking barefooted towards the nearest window and peeking outside - the cold wind that entered the room sent shivers through your body, causing goosebumps to arise across your skin. It had to be the hour of the Wolf, you could barely see a thing.
There was a group of guards marching towards the entrance of the Red Keep; you heard them bellow, but you were not able to make sense of their words. They ran from one side to another, picking up their swords and shields, giving commands to one another. You grew curious to know the reason behind such a fuss and the answer came quicker than you expected. While you were observing a knight standing beside the arsenal and keeping guard on the perimeter, another man silently approached him- wearing all black, camouflaging in the darkness of the night.
A small part of you told you to look away, but you stood there - eyes fixed on the guard. Curiosity killed the cat.
Out of the blue, the black-clad specter reached for the knight, and before you could discern what the man had done to him, you saw red flooding out under the moonlight - staining his prestigious white cloak. You froze in your place as you saw the guard falling to his knees before his entire body reached the dirt on the floor. The air escaped from your lungs as you witnessed such a gruesome scene, feeling your heart beating frantically in reaction.
It only became worse once the unknown man looked up, right at your window. Right at you, steely eyes glinting.
Immediately, you took a few steps back - your hand covering your mouth and muffling a squeal as soon as you realized what had happened. Chills traveled around your body, and before you realized, your cheeks were soaking with tears of horror and fear. It was suddenly hard to breathe, your chest feeling heavy and tight. That man saw you, he would certainly come after you now.
Your feet kept moving, eyes fixed in the window as you walked backwards, as far as possible from that frightening scene. In that moment, you felt your back hit something cold and hard before two strong arms wrapped around your body and squeezed you between them. You yelped, screaming hysterically with the thought that it will be your turn now - squirming desperately as you tried to be freed from the arms of the person who was holding you down.
Then you heard his voice.
“Princess, it's me!” The familiar voice exclaimed, loosening the grip around your body and allowing you to turn around to see him. He removed his helmet, throwing it onto the floor. “It's me, my sweet princess,” he repeated, this time more calm and with a soothing tone in his timbre. He placed his big, calloused hand on your cheek.
The relief washed over you as you saw your beautiful knight in shining armor standing before you, tense shoulders instantly relaxing as you locked your lilac eyes with his deep brown ones. His gaze was soft, but it still showed signs of his preoccupation for you. His thumb brushed against your skin, wiping the tears that had fallen down your face. You leaned towards his touch and he sighed.
“You're safe with me,” Ser Harwin murmured. “Everything will be okay…” His impressive frame towered over your smaller one; you had to look up at him as your hand wrapped around his wrist.
Harwin was taken aback once he felt your trembling arms wrapping around his armor. You hung from his neck as he picked you up from the floor. One of his hands held your waist, while the other went to your nape - keeping you close to him. The coldness of the metal was pressing against your cheek, and you closed your eyes - silently crying against his shoulder. Your heart fluttered inside your chest once he tightened his grip around your body; you felt safe in his arms.
“Shh… it's fine,” he cooed against your ear. His lips pressed against your head. “No one will hurt you if I'm with you, princess. No one will harm you.”
“What happened? What's going on?” you asked between sobs.
“Some miscreants managed to go through the gates, they're now being secured in the black cells. They’re trying to find those who are inside the Keep,” he explained while he slowly put you back on your feet - a soft whine involuntarily left your lips once you stopped feeling his warmth. “I've come as soon as I heard.”
“Is my family safe? My mother, my siblings? Rhaenyra and the children?”
“They are all being guarded by members of the king's guard,” Harwin replied.
You nodded before you took a look around his face, as if you were trying to search for some wound - just in case he needed your help. “Are you hurt?” A little smile appeared on his handsome face once he noticed your worry. “Did- did they hurt you?”
“No,” he answered. “And you shall not worry about me, princess…”
You pressed your lips in a thin line before murmuring - a bit embarrassed, “you know I'll always worry about you.”
Harwin paused to take a look at you; his heart beating fast with the mere sight of you, feeling like a green boy whenever you were around, staring up at him with those pretty, sparkling eyes of yours. So beautiful, so precious. It was no secret between you two that your feelings had flourished like roses in Spring. Yet, even when the deep affections were obviously mutual, both of you were scared to act on it. It was forbidden, and - somehow - that made it even more tempting for both. How scandalous, King Viserys daughter has the Hand’s son as a paramour.
“Mayhaps your royal highness should go back to sleep,” Harwin suggested. “On the morrow all this would be just a faint memory.”
“I don't think I will be able to do it,” you told him, taking a step back and wiping your tears away. “I lost all my sleep with what I've just seen…it was awful, terrible…”
Harwin approached you again as he noticed your despair - your voice breaking in the middle of your words and your eyes glistening once again by a layer of new tears. He cupped your face, brushing his thumbs against your cheeks.
“It's okay, my sweet angel,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours - you closed your eyes. His closeness made your heart beat faster, and the syrupy way the name that came out of his plump lips almost caused you to sigh. “Come here, let's sit down for a second, alright?” Harwin motioned.
Obediently, you grabbed his hand as he guided you through your room, finding a comfortable spot in the large settee right in the middle of your chambers. Once Harwin turned around, he finally noticed what you were wearing; a thin see through nightgown. His eyebrows twitched and mouth went dry. He knew that the right thing was to look away, give the privacy you needed - yet he couldn't manage to take his eyes off of you, his lovely princess. He followed a path from your face, going downwards towards your neck and collarbones - he even imagined how they would look with small marks from his lips printed on them. He continued shamelessly eyeing you, finding your breasts; he felt his throat getting dry once he noticed your pebbled nipples peeking through the white fabric of your nightgown. His mouth watered, resisting the urge to think how they would feel against his tongue. Unexpectedly, he felt his pants getting tighter.
That's when he knew that enough was enough. You were a princess; his princess. You deserve the utmost respect. He couldn't allow himself to think of you in that way, especially on a night like this one.
Harwin cleared his throat, sitting down on the couch and tapping the empty spot by his side - once again, you obeyed. Your body curled by his side, clinging into his armor, laying your head on his chest as his arm went around your shoulder to keep you close. You squirmed a bit, trying to make sense of the feeling between your legs - the one that grew more intense once you noticed the desire on his eyes.
“Close your eyes, try to rest. I'll be here when you wake up,” he promised.
You nodded, making yourself comfortable and doing what he told you to do - and you really tried, yet it seemed impossible for you to take that horrid image off your mind. Your whole body would tremble with the thought of being murdered in the same way. Each time you would close your eyes, that was all you could see. It was torturous, a bone chilling fear that didn't let you rest.
That scarlet blood seeping down white cloth played over and over again in your racing mind.
Before you noticed, you were sobbing again. Harwin, chivalrous as always, grabbed your quivering body and placed you on his lap, rocking your body from side to side as a desperate attempt to try and calm you down. It wounded him to see you like this, so scared and defenseless - he even wondered what he could do to make your anguish go away.
“He saw me… he'll come and try to- to kill me!” you whined - your lower lip shaking uncontrollably. “I cannot- I cannot stop thinking about it all.”
Growing up as a princess left you inside a bubble. Behind the thick walls of the castle you never had to watch or see something as such - the evilness of people. Harwin has always told you that you had a pure heart and soul, always oblivious to the wrongdoings of the people. You never knew how cruel people truly were, and now that you saw it you couldn't stop thinking about it.
“Nothing will happen to you, not if I'm here,” Harwin softly whispered. “I will always protect you, my precious angel.”
But then he thought of his words again; he might protect you from the enemies, from the dangers of the world, but how was he supposed to protect you from the torment that was caused by your own mind? How could he possibly make you forget about it?
He knew the answer, but he knew it was wrong. Terribly wrong.
“Come here.” Harwin invited you to sit on his lap. In any other occasion you would doubt a bit before assenting to do it, but in that moment all you wanted was to feel safe, to feel him against you as he got rid of all your fears with his mere presence - you couldn't resist.
His hands grabbed your hips as he lifted you up and motioned you until you were sitting on top of him - your arms around his broad body as you laid on his shoulder. His hands went to your head, his fingertips softly caressing your scalp while he soothed you again.
For him, it was quite hard to ignore the fact that the only thing in the middle of your nudity was a thin piece of fabric that did nothing to hide your body. He could see it, but you could feel it. At first you just sighed - the coldness of the metal covering his thigh would touch the heat between your legs, which was growing more intense with every passing second. You shivered, holding back a gasp when you accidentally moved your hips.
Out of the sudden, a thunderous sound similar to the one that woke you up was heard again. Your body jumped due to the shock, and your eyes widened with terror.
“Harwin…” you mumbled his name, almost as if you were begging him to make it stop, even when you knew he couldn't do anything more than stay by your side.
“Look at me, Princess,” he replied, his voice becoming slightly raspy as his big hands went to your hips. You felt how he started to pull your nightgown upwards - he had given up his hesitation to do this, defiling the pure little angel. How your doe-eyes and small body contrasted against his large frame, Strong was ensnared. The knight no longer fought against the carnal urges. He needed to take your mind elsewhere, and this was the only way he could think of. You tried to look down as he kept pulling the only layer of clothes that would cover your body - the only thing that separated your warmth from the coldness of the metal on his thigh, and he grabbed your chin, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. “Don't look away from me, angel…”
You obeyed, slightly parting your lips as the fabric brushed against your flesh, and once your cunt was laying naked on top of his leg, you felt a shiver running down your spine. Harwin’s honeyed gaze did not tear from your face at any moment, reluctant to see your most vulnerable places. He felt unworthy of it. He wasn't going to see you, he wasn't going to touch your vulnerable petals - he was just going to let you use him as you please.
“Ser Harwin…” you repeated his name in a gasp as his hands moved your hips on top of him. Gentle movements at first, just to see how you would react; that's when you moaned, feeling metal rubbing directly against your clit. It felt odd, but extremely good.
“Don't stress your mind any further,” he whispered, almost feeling breathless. “Forget about everything, just focus on what you feel…”
With your eyes closed, you placed your hands on his shoulder in order to find some stability when he slightly quickened the pace. The whimper that left your lips would be carved in Harwin’s mind forever, haunting his nights and increasing his need for you. You were there, in front of him looking so angelic, yet so sinful - he was tightening his grip on your hips, digging his fingertips on your flesh as a desperate attempt to hold back; the urge to rip that nightgown was almost unbearable. He needed to touch you, even when it was awfully wrong to do so.
One of his hands left your hip, moving upwards until it cupped your face. Your cheeks were burning beneath his touch, too flustered and shy to hold his haze for too long. You weren't stupid, you knew what was going on and you knew what it meant, yet it was hard for you to care when it felt this good.
Involuntarily, you started to move your hips on your own, growing needy and aching to feel more of him. You longed for his hands on your skin, touching every inch of you until his scent was spread all over your body - yet, he denied you of that, too scared of not being able to stop if he got to fondle your curves.
“Does it feel good?” he asked, his voice so deep and husky, almost making you purr like a kitten between his arms.
“S’good…” you whined in response, mouth agape and letting gasps fall from your lips.
Harwin shifted his position, trying to find some comfortable posture that would make him forget about the ache inside his breeches. He laid back on the settee, spreading his legs and letting you place your hands on his chest. You soon started to move your hips again, moaning his name.
“Fucking hell…” he groaned, now getting a full view of your body. “Go on, ride my thigh…” Those words slipped his lips before he was able to stop them. He felt ashamed, but you loved to hear them, driving your pace harder in reaction.
Your eyes opened and you found Harwin looking up at you as you used him for your own pleasure. He sat there, your weeping cunt coating his armor with your slick as you rubbed yourself on him; you quickly noticed how hard it was for him not to look down - not to look at the sinful view of your swollen bud brushing against him. Instead, his eyes remained on your face, lost in your glossy eyes and swollen lips. He was bewitched with the way your face would express the pleasure you were feeling; Blessed may be the gods for giving him the opportunity to see you like that.
His thumb moved closer to your lips, and you were quick to trap it inside your mouth, sucking and nibbling at it while your movements became more intense. Harwin couldn't resist, and he moaned once he felt your tongue swirling around his digit, imagining how that very same tongue would feel on his cock.
“This feels better than your pillow, doesn't it?” He suddenly groaned. On any other occasion, he would be too ashamed to mention that - the fact that he has heard you pleasuring yourself, yet he couldn't help it… the words slipped out of his mouth before he was able to hold them back. “Do you think of me when you do it?” He asked, almost begging to admit it, longing to hear you say it.
Though you were in no position to speak - too overwhelmed already, you manage to mumble a positive answer, humming as you nodded. A little smirk appeared on the knight's face, making him look even more charming than he already was. You felt your body melt in his arms.
With the motion of your body becoming more intense - faster, your nightgown slowly started to fall down your body, exposing your pebbled nipples to the hungry haze of the man beneath you. The struggle inside his mind was killing him, he wasn't supposed to touch you yet his body craved for it. His mouth watered at the sight while you kept moaning around his finger.
“Touch yourself for me, my angel,” he murmured, as if that would cease his cravings.
He removed his hand from your face, grabbing your wrist and relocating it to your breasts. You moaned at your own touch as you pulled your nipples and played with your own flesh. You leaned forward then, pressing your forehead against his, open-mouthed as you gasped when he grabbed your hips to control your movements once again. Harwin closed his eyes, groaning when you whined and mewled.
You sounded so beautiful.
“Come on, my princess,” he breathlessly said. His lips were merely a few inches away from yours. He fought the urge to devour your swollen lips. “Fucking hell… my angel, keep rubbing your sweet pussy against me. It feels so good, doesn't it? Bet you can’t think of anything else…”
“Harwin, I- I feel…”
“Sh… just let go. Fuck yourself on me, use me as you please. Let me help you empty that pretty head of yours.”
Harwin gave one last look at your trembling body before he started to bounce his leg, thick thigh adding more stimulation that almost made you scream. It was too much - the possessive grip around your hips was making it hard for you to think about anything else. You fantasized about him, about his hands, about his mouth… you longed for his touch, to feel huge calloused hands on your silken skin. You wondered how it would feel to have him inside of you, to let him defile your body. You wanted it so bad.
The thoughts soon started to push you over the edge. The metal covering Harwin’s thigh was soaked with your slick, it was slippery enough to fasten your movements until you couldn't hold it any longer. Your body weight fell forward, your hips twitching as your release oozed out of your weeping cunt, his name falling from your lips like a chant - as a way to thank him. Harwin felt his cock aching underneath his trousers, painfully hard, too damn close to coming undone.
“So good, my beautiful princess…” he whispered as he caressed your hair. His touch burning against now sensitive skin. “Bet you're not thinking about that bad man anymore, are you?”
You could only whine in response. Tired, overstimulated, and sleepy.
“Let's get you to bed now, shall we?”
Harwin grabbed your waist, lifting you up effortlessly as you leaned on his shoulders. Ever the gentleman, he fixed your gown and covered your nudity as he took you to the bed. He placed you delicately over the soft mattress and you hummed when he wrapped your trembling body on the silk sheets.
He leaned back then, but you grabbed his hand before he could go further away. “Please, don't,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “Stay with me… Lay here.”
“My princess-”
“Please.”
And he couldn't say no.
You heard how he started to get rid of his armor, slowly detaching the pieces of metal from his body until there were just thin layers of clothes covering his body. He cautiously laid behind you - not wanting you to feel the hardness under his trousers, yet you grabbed his hand and forced him to wrap his limbs around your body, feeling the need to have him as close as possible.
Silence fell on the room, just hearing his calm breathing as he closed his eyes and smelled the sweet perfume lingering in your hair. But then, you spoke again.
“Ser Harwin?” you uttered his name so delicately it almost felt like a caress.
“Yes?”
There was a small pause, a moment of doubt. You continued regardless.
“I… I think I might be in love with you.”
Harwin's heart skipped a beat on his chest, and a smile appeared on his face. He felt a joy that he had never felt before.
“Princess?” Now it was him calling your name.
“Yes, sir?”
“I am in love with you.”
TAGS — @islandfantasydream
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#harwin strong#harwin strong imagine#harwin strong smut#harwin strong x reader#ser harwin#harwin strong x you#harwin strong x y/n#harwin strong x targ!reader#hotd#house of the dragon#hotd x y/n#hotd x reader#hotd x you
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Heyy beauty!
Can i request a Harwin break my back Strong x wife Targaryen reader fic where he beats the shit out of someone who disrespects her. He gets out of it with no consequences, reader looks after him & it ends in smut💋
(I'd appreciate it if u could do more Harwin fics cause lord knows I'm thirsty for it😭)
How to fix an aching nose.// Ser Harwin Strong x Targ!Wife!Reader. Smut.
Summary: Harwin cant believe his luck, married to a targaryan princess, being completely in love with her, her being madly in love with him...Not many believe his luck neither. Only his wife can prove him that its all real.
Warnings: p in v, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), a Lannister being punch.
Harwin was more than anxious to have you, his dearest wife, alone for more than the few moments you were allowed, to what extent could he reminisce about your wedding night? His mind was elsewhere during the hunt, listening only to his father's instructions, and ignoring the lords. Ever since he married you, he had felt the looks they gave him, full of envy of course. Few dared little more than stare, the stupidest could dare to vocalise it. And Lord Tyland Lannister was one of those fools.
"I see you are distracted, Ser Harwin," said the Lord with a mocking laugh as he watched the stag slip away from him at close range. "Marriage...always has the same effect on men."
He chuckled, a few laughed with him, but most gave him a dirty look, and Harwin set his spear aside.
"What effect do you mean, Ser Tyland?" he asked dryly.
"Well, the effect of women. They are a constant headache."
"I don't think you should speak so of wives when you haven't managed to marry a single woman since you've been at court, my lord." He wanted to leave it at that, but Tyland had taken offense.
"When one wields so much fortune, choosing a wife to entrust to him is a different task. I suppose you don't know what I'm talking about now, Ser Harwin."
Harwin walked toward him, towering over him. It clearly frightened him.
"I don't need to brag about money to show my wealth. And that I think if you are able to understand."
Tyland was silent for a second. Everyone had turned to watch the scene, except your father, the King, who was too sore to pay attention. None of them listened as your father asked for your presence to escort him to his tent without making a fuss. So Harwin turned to continue the hunt without being aware that his own wife was walking towards the scene. Neither was Lord Lannister.
"You certainly took a treasure for the little price you must have paid...you took a very possible wife from me." Tyland was whispering it to Harwin now, purposely irritating him. "Though...perhaps you did me a favor. A princess who chooses someone like you should not be driven by anything but lust and madness. Maybe your wife is a lot cheaper than we all thought."
Then Harwin exploded. With the first fist he knocked out two of Tyland's molars, and with the second he buried him in the mud. None of Ser Lyonel's orders were heard as he tore Tyland apart, only the insults towards you, raging. They tried to pull him away, but he was still there. And there you found him.
"HARWIN!" You shouted, running towards him. It took him a while to notice you, he looked at you, a little frightened that you had seen him be so savage.
"He insulted you" he said quietly, then looked at Tyland "YOU INSULTED THE PRINCESS!"
And he gave him one last kick before he was pushed away by the guards. He had to be pushed away until he was led out of the hunt, and he only looked at you, begging your forgiveness for the disturbance. Your father was disoriented, and only understood what was happening from the words of one of the guards. And you had to wait to get your father to his bed before you met Harwin.
"What happened?" you asked as you entered your tent. Harwin was waiting for you, on his back and standing. When he turned around you saw his nose was bleeding. You ran to wipe it. "Gods! Did Tyland do that to you?"
"He wishes it was him, my love...it was one of the guards."
"I suppose it's because you've hit him first, isn't it?"
He smiled, because he knew you as well as you knew him. And he watched your concern disappear with every second, seeing your smile again.
"I'm not going to let anyone walk all over me. Not me, not you," he said, kissing your neck as he hugged you, lifting you off the ground and pressing you against his chest.
"Oh, Harwin, and why do you say that?"
You wiped the blood from him as he told you the story. It was starting to bruise a little, but had stopped bleeding after he put a cold cloth on it, holding it patiently and letting it play with the ties of your dress.
"I don't want you to think I'm just a... a beast too. I hold my anger a lot more than you think. Only you make me feel at peace, wife." He ran his hand through your hair.
It certainly hadn't been easy to convince your father. The Strongs were beloved at court, but Harrenhal was not a place of good repute, and marrying the King's second daughter to a notorious brute like Harwin "Breakbones" Strong had caused much controversy. You succeeded after years of hiding in the corridors, and every night Harwin could only draw on his imagination to do more than kiss you, for he had always put your reputation and honour before his desires.
You had only been married a short time, but it had been a season since you two had spent time alone. Your elder sister Rhaenyra was keeping you by her side at night, uncomfortable with her first pregnancy, and in the mornings, Harwin was too busy catching up on his duties as heir to Harrenhal.
Still, it didn't take away a single ounce of excitement, you craved each other throughout the day, and Harwin always managed to pull you aside to talk or kiss you. Either was enough for him, but he really wanted you back in his bed.
"You don't look like a beast to me." You put your hands on his neck, sat on his lap, you could feel his bulge on your leg. "And even if you had looked like one, you forget I've never been the person who holds his reputation in the highest regard, remember?"
They smiled, Harwin remembered in fact, more than once he had had to push you out of his sight because you had guided his hand where maidens should not be touched, all before you were married. You kissed him first, and when he was training you watched him from your window, catching his eye and "accidentally" showing your breasts. In the dark of night he had to pick you up off the floor because you had knelt before him. And in between all those moments Harwin couldn't help but be captivated by you, begging the King for your hand.
"I remember everything. You are far more beastly than I, my wife..." His member began to grow as he remembered, your scent right there, he captured your lips.
"You have offended me," you faltered, pulling away from the kiss. "Show me who the beast is here, Ser Breakbones."
One swift movement and he unfastened the bodice of your dress, freeing your breasts, and brought one to his lips. And as it sank to your chest you giggled at his eagerness, enjoying the tingle that formed on your legs as you felt Harwin's saliva run over your tits.
"Do you find this amusing, my princess? Having me sit here?" He ran his hands under your skirt, stroking your pearl as if by accident, but you knew he wasn't, that he was doing it to ravish you.
"I do find it a bit funny, I'm afraid..."
He stilled your laughter by throwing you onto the bed they had set up for you. Remarkably smaller than the one in your room back in the Keep, but Harwin didn't plan to use it much. He removed what was left of your dress, leaving you now completely naked. Your body being a spectacle for him.
"Well I'm no clown, of the many tricks they know how to do, I doubt very much they know how to do this."
He rested one hand on the bed, circling you on top of you, and the other he used to turn you, your back, your ass facing the outside. He caressed your back, stroke both cheeck of your ass and finally touching your cunt. One finger entered first, stirring your discharge with your clitoris and eliciting a soft moan from you. He watched you watching him, mouth half open. He was so handsome, with his smooth coat but rugged features, Harwin was all man. He inserted a second finger, and the third was not long in coming. Then he began to shake his hand rapidly, lifting your entire pelvis to his rhythm. You couldn't help but cry out as you felt such continuous pleasure.
"No..." whispered Harwin, pulling his face closer to yours, "no one knows how to do this to you like I do..."
Pleasure engulfed you, and Harwin could see you come to orgasm, you moaned millimetres from his lips, which he felt as if it was feeding him. He let you rest, and before he could lick his fingers with your arousal, you took his hand to lick them for him. If he was already excited before, Harwin had to hold back a moan when he felt the friction of his own pants squeezing his erection.
"Now let me reward you, my Lord, for defending my honour..." you removed his shirt, and kissed his big abs. But you made him suffer as you reached for his trousers, unbuttoning them bit by bit, not until you had removed them completely did you focus on his member.
Fat and in proportion to your husband, his cock needed two hands to massage it well. First you gave him a little kiss on the tip, as if in greeting, and looked up at Harwin, who seemed impatient but loved your gaze as you knelt before him. You were beautiful from every angle, and your eyes sharpened from that perspective. He pushed your silver hair aside as an excuse to touch it, and he never pushed your head, you always managed to make him enjoy at your own pace. You licked the tip for a while, but before he could cum, you took as much of his cock into your mouth as you could, knowing which way to guide it so you wouldn't gag. You sucked slowly but intensely, using your cheeks to make your mouth tighter. You were just about to make him cum when Harwin decided to take the reins again.
He caught you by surprise when he pulled away from you to pick you up off the floor, placing you in his arms as he did when he rescued you from troubles you usually got yourself into. One arm around your back and the other around your legs, your hands resting on his shoulders and with the opportunity to kiss him right there. Indeed, you didn't need the bed very much. You didn't quite understand what Harwin was up to, but when you felt the tip of his cock at your entrance, your hair stood on end. He was moving slowly up and down you, preparing to bury himself all the way in.
"I am convinced that there is no better pussy than yours in all of Westeros, Princess..." his voice was husky, his scent captivated you, and he kissed you tenderly when he wasn't kissing you with tongue.
"So what are you waiting for to enjoy it?"
He lured you to his lips to distract you, but you finally felt him enter. Gently, but creating that special fraction you'd longed for for years before you were married. Harwin broke the kiss to moan, of course this was his favourite part of fucking. He didn't usually do it fast, he liked to pace himself, and for such a big, rough man, he liked to sink into your pussy delicately, whether it was his instinct to protect you, or his instinct to enjoy it. His hips set the pace, as he raised them, his arms lowered, and you felt his full length fill you. He began to speed up the rhythm, he had plenty of strength left, and when he increased you could hear him enjoying himself, making you enjoy yourself.
"I'm going to cum...I'm going to cum..." he announced.
Then he laid you back down on the bed. You had no plans to have children yet, so you liked to experiment a little. Harwin positioned your legs apart, and took out his cock to rub it against your clit, fucking your vaginal lips and causing you unparalleled pleasure. You had your second orgasm seconds before you felt Harwin's semen spilling out of your pelvis, with a sweet moan leaving your husbands lips.
He rested his forehead on yours, and you kissed his aching nose.
"Wow...you sure made me feel better, wife." He moved to your side, pulling a blanket over you both, cuddeling you in his arms.
"Yeah...I've missed you too."
"I meant the kiss on the nose...but the rest was good too."
You laughed before threatening to make it bleed again. Harwin was willing to take a million punches as long as his princess was there to kiss his wounds afterwards.
#house of the dragon#house of the dragon x reader#harwin strong x reader#ser harwin strong#harwin strong smut#harwin smut#harwin strong#ser harwin x reader#ser harwin breakbones#ryan corr imagine#ryan corr#House of the dragon x reader#House of the dragon smut#hotd x reader#hotd smut#hotd#harwin breakbones#harwin x reader
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Pretty like the sun
warnings: reader described as having long, silver hair; no use of y/n; female!reader; Targaryen!reader; sneaking around with harwin; little sliver of angst but that’s it; fluff; not proofread sorry
summary: you spend a morning with harwin.
author’s note: I miss harwin strong. that is all.
The soft, early morning light poked through the thin fabric covering your window. You stirred in bed, eyes scrunching tighter together as you attempted to will yourself back asleep.
“Good morning,” Harwin’s chest rumbled with the sound of his voice. He was almost whispering, as if afraid to spook you. One of his hands trailed up your back, his fingers ghosting over your bare skin.
“Mhm,” you grumbled, refusing to open your eyes. You snuggled closer to his side, your head laid right over his heart. The reassuring rhythm of its beat brought a small smile to your lips.
“What time is it?” You asked after a moment of comfortable silence, your eyes still closed. You could feel the heat of the sun now, its rays more intense as it rose in the sky.
“Almost time for me to go,” he replied. The hand trailing up your spine moved to rest in your hair, his fingers lightly scratching at your scalp. His free hand moved over your body, looping around you and pulling you impossibly closer.
It was always like this in the mornings you spent together. Hushed words and warm touches. The two of you tangled together, holding each other as close as possible. This time was sacred to the both of you. It was stolen from the rest of the Keep, something just for the two of you to share, damning the rest of them.
“Do you have to?” You asked, but you already knew the answer as you finally opened your eyes. You tilted your head back to look up at your lover. His eyes met yours, and he gave a small smile as he nodded.
“You know I do, Princess. I cannot be caught in here, your father would have my head.”
You rolled your eyes as you turned your head to plant a kiss to his sternum. He hummed in contentment.
“You underestimate my power in this keep, Ser. At most, my father would have your finger. Maybe a hand, if it were a bad day for the King,” you grinned as you teased him, meeting his gaze once more.
It was Harwin’s turn to roll his eyes now. His fingers dug deeper into your scalp, massaging the skin there. You groaned and swatted his hand away, knowing his actions would put you back to sleep.
As much as you wanted to succumb to the welcoming embrace of slumber once more, you knew you’d regret it. Harwin wouldn’t want to wake you, and so he’d slip from the room quietly, depriving you of the chance to wish his farewell. You despised it when he did that– and he knew as much, yet he still tried.
He told you once that he hated seeing the look in your eyes as he left, and that’s why he tried to lull you back to sleep. He didn’t want to watch the sadness and anger seep into your expression as it did every time he snuck away.
It wasn’t sadness and anger aimed towards him, of course. It was at this whole situation– the fact that you two had to hide your affections. The King had made it quite clear you were to remain untouched and unmarried until your sister, Rhaenyra, found a match.
You disobeyed his wishes, but what the King didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him– at least that’s what you believed.
“Where do they have you stationed today?” You questioned the man below you as you turned your gaze to the villainous window that disturbed the peace the night gave both of you. “Guarding ‘Nyra again?”
“Guarding you, actually,” he said, and you sighed.
Having your lover guard you was a double-edged sword. You were with him all day, but you were not allowed to truly be with him. It was almost torture, how the man you loved was right beside you and you couldn’t touch him. You couldn’t even speak to him the way you wanted. You had to remain proper, as did he, and you had to keep up this carefully constructed facade of a princess and her loyal guard.
“You do not wish to be accompanied by me today?” He asked, and you finally pushed yourself up, your hand resting on his chest to support yourself.
The arm he had looped around you fell, his grip now at your waist. His thumb caressed the skin there as he watched your face with concern. His other hand remained in your hair, moving to brush strands of silver from your eyes.
“You know that is not the issue,” you told him.
“Sometimes it is the issue. Remember just a fortnight ago, when you asked for another guard just because I slipped out the night before?”
“You did not tell me you had to go,” you said as you shuffled over to the other side of the bed. His hands retracted from your body to let you move.
“I was not aware I needed to ask your permission to get a glass of water,” he retorted, and you scoffed.
“The last time you snuck out during the night, it was because you were sent to guard my sister for her two week journey to see whoever that lord was. Lannister? Baratheon? I do not recall— but it does not matter. You did not tell me you were leaving!”
“Love–” he began, but you spoke again.
“No, I know, Harwin. You did not know either. I am not trying to fight,” you reached a hand towards him, which he clasped in one of his own. His fingers intertwined with yours, and you smiled.
“I just worry for you. I fear one day you will slip out before I can say goodbye, and I will never see you again.”
Harwin frowned, his eyes trained on you as he gave your hand a small squeeze. You inhaled deeply. “I do not want to keep sneaking around,” you admitted.
“Nor do I, but–” he began.
“But we must,” you finished his sentence with a sigh. “Just until my sister finally meets her match. Which will probably be after we are all dead.”
Harwin laughed and used his grip on your hand to pull you back into him. You gave a sound of surprise as you fell onto his chest, both his hands snaking around your body to keep you glued to him.
“The Princess will wed soon, my love. Your father will make sure of it. And if not, then I am sure you will make sure of it. Gods help Rhaenyra if it gets to that point. You are quite scary when you are angry.”
“As scary as Daemon?” You questioned, your eyebrows raised as you glanced up at Harwin. A teasing grin painted your lips.
“Oh, much scarier. The Rogue Prince wishes he was as terrifying as you.”
“Careful, Ser,” you giggled. “My uncle would feed you to Caraxes for such an insult.”
“It would be an honorable death, dying to defend my Princess.”
You shuffled upwards so that your face was right above his. Your hair fell around the both of you, creating another barrier the sun streaming through the window fought to break through.
“You are insufferable,” you whispered, your nose brushing his.
“Am I?” He asked with a grin.
“Mhm,” you hummed in answer before lowering your lips to his.
The kiss lasted a few wonderful, peaceful seconds before a sobering knock sounded at the door.
“Princess!” Your lady-in-waiting called from behind the door, her knock becoming louder as she tried to rouse you. Unbeknownst to her, you were very awake at the moment.
Your eyes widened as you looked down at your lover who was very much naked, very much still in your bed, and very much late to his post.
“Princess, are you awake? Are you in there? I don’t see Ser Harwin out here. Are you alright?” You could hear panic begin to sneak into the woman’s tone. You knew how it looked to her– a locked door, no guard, and a silent princess? She probably thought you were dead.
You pulled yourself from Harwin’s embrace once more and hurried out of bed, reaching for the night clothes you had discarded the night before. Harwin followed suit in rushing from bed. He began grabbing at clothes and armor, trying to be silent but quick as he redressed.
“I’m awake!” You shouted to your lady-in-waiting as you ran a hand through your hair. You turned to watch as Harwin gave up on buttoning his shirt and began gathering his armor in his hands.
“You have got to go!” You whisper-shouted at him.
“I am trying! This damn armor–” he groaned as he nearly dropped his metal chest plate. You cringed as you watched his barely catch it, releasing a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. That sound would’ve had your lady busting down your door in an instant.
“Princess, are you alright in there?” You heard your lady ask as the door knob jiggled.
“Quite!” You yelled back, your pitch rising in panic. You rushed to Harwin’s side and began snatching up the remaining pieces of his armor. You ushered him to the secret passage in your room, prying open the door and all but pushing him inside. “Just looking for something!”
You pushed the armor in your hands into Harwin’s, who was looking at you with a wide grin.
“What?” You asked incredulously, curious as to how he could be smiling at being nearly caught.
“Looking a little disheveled, Princess.”
“Gods, go!” You scolded him with no real bite to your words. You shoved at his broad shoulders, careful not to disturb the mountain of metal in his arms.
He gave a quiet laugh as he swiftly ducked down to kiss your forehead. “See you soon, Princess.”
With that, he disappeared down the dark passageway and you all but slammed the door closed. You quickly concealed it once more before smoothing down your nightdress, taking a deep breath, and opening the door for your lady-in-waiting.
“Gods, I thought you were being killed!” She cried, her voice shrill as she surged into the room.
You gave a breathless laugh as you shut the door behind her, noticing a forgotten trinket of Harwin’s laying on the stone floor. You swiftly kicked it under your wardrobe before your lady turned to face you.
“Where was Ser Harwin? He was not by your door,” she questioned as she began to assess your appearance.
“Oh, I sent him to fetch me a glass of water well before you arrived. He never returned. I suppose he was roped into something more important.”
“Hm,” your lady hummed, unconvinced, but she didn’t press the topic further.
The two of you fell into comfortable silence as you went through your routine of dressing.
Finally, as your lady finished clasping a ruby necklace around your neck, she cleared her throat to speak.
“Did he at least take all his armor with him this time?”
Your cheeks turned a deep red, and your lady laughed.
#house of the dragon#harwin strong#hotd#ser harwin strong#house of the dragon fic#harwin strong x reader#rhaenyra targaryen#ser harwin strong x reader#harwin breakbones#harwin breakbones strong#ser harwin breakbones#ser harwin#ser harwin x reader#harwin strong imagine#harwin strong x you#targaryen!reader#princess!reader#game of thrones fluff#house of the dragon season 2#house of the dragon fluff#harwin strong fluff#harwin/reader#harwin strong/reader
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Hello, dear reader. I'd like to make a wish for Rhaenyra's little sister, maybe a year or two. And she never liked Alicent, who after marrying the king tries (along with Otto) to demote her to bastard status (but Viserys loves his little girl too much to do this to her). Of course, things get even worse when Rhaenyra's sister gets engaged to Harwin...
Thank you for your attention, I like your stories 🫶🏻. Another thing, can I stop by more often? I wish I had more of my ideas adorned with your writing
Harwin Strong*Suitable Match
Pairing: Harwin x f!reader
Word count: 1320
Warnings: Step parent hating step child, secret relationship, kind of implied smut
a/n: ahh thank u sm for being so sweet and ofc request as much or talk however much u want. sorry i didnt reply sooner i just didnt want to lose the request x
Masterlist Here
A life of a princess was something to envy. Well so many had claimed however after the death of your mother life felt like an ever falling spiral. Your sister began to grow closer to Alicent after the death and while you were happy for her to have a friend Alicent had always been unkind to you.
It had started small with her asking Rhaenyra not to let you join in their games to her unpicking your needle work whenever you would wander off to stretch your legs. Soon you gave up on even trying to be nice to her. anytime she was invited to dinner was met with loud sighs from you.
“Why does she hate me?” you pouted one night as Rhaenyra upbraided your hair.
Your sister rolled her eyes as she began to brush your hair out, “She doesn’t hate you. she’s just not used to a little sister,”
“She’s mean,”
“Cmon she isn’t that bad?”
-
You didn’t want to say I told you so when Alicent was betrothed to your father but the look on your face said it for you. at least Rhaenyra was able to marry and move away. you were instead stuck living at court with your evil stepmother and her spawn. Well, the children were kind to you, but Alicent constantly used them to get under your skin.
She’d send toddler Aegon running over with pretend crown shouting that he was going to be king. Or she would have a 2-year-old Aemond claim he was your husband. She tried to make Helena spill wine on your dress one time, but the poor girl burst into tears and confessed to you instantly.
Instead Alicent settled on insisting that your chambers were given to Aegon. Something you managed to convince your father against from at first but soon you were moved to a wing of the castle usually just for guests. You would’ve complained about longer if you hadn’t realised your new chambers window overlooked the kings guard training ground.
From your window you’d pretend to be doing needle work while secretly watching break bones fling any man that challenged him like a rag doll. Eventually Harwin caught onto your staring and would send his own glimpses up between sparring. It was also handy that your chamber was only a short walk from the guards’ sleeping quarters and Harwin soon became a frequent private guest of yours.
-
“Ser Barros is coming to court next week,” your father told you over a family dinner, “and I heard his son is looking for a wife,” he said, shooting you a hopeful glance.
“I heard he’s a fine man father,” you said kindly knowing full well it didn’t matter. Somehow every match they tried to make for you was sabotaged. The tall dark Baratheon boy was ever so keen for weeks for your hand then one day disappeared like a ghost. The gorgeous Lannister man that would bring you fine jewels suddenly decided a dornish match was of more importance. Even the Tarly boy you had courted had inexplicitly decided to join the nights watch. Every time Alicent wore the same twisted smile.
The only ones she didn’t send running were the incredibly old and decrepit looking men from minor houses, but it wasn’t hard to convince your father they weren’t suitable matches. “Perhaps we should set up a luncheon to great the boy,” Alicent suggested making your father smile widely. She really had twisted him around her finger.
-
“I wish I could stay here all day,” you pouted as you lay your head on Harwin’s bare chest.
His chuckle vibrated through you as his arm wrapped tight around your waist, “Me too princess but I have my duties and you have yours,”
“I thought your duty was to serve me,” you sighed dramatically, pretending to try get away.
Harwin laughed, his arms moving to cage you against the bed as he moved to lay over you, “I think I serve you just fine princess,” he said, his lips moving to kiss along your jaw.
“Oh yeah?” you asked and Harwin hummed in response as his kisses grew lower.
-
As expected Borros’s son went running after only a week and now you were in another awkward family dinner however unluckily for you the children all had the cold so now you were sat in stoney silence with just your father and Alicent. “You should really think about your future dear,” she said with a fake sweet smile, “We worry for you,”
Instead of replying you grabbed your wine, drinking a hefty sip of it. Viserys sighed, “Alicent is right dear. You must marry. At this point we’re going to have to start considering marrying you to a tree!” he said, flinging himself back in his chair. “Honestly what even happened between you and the boy?”
-
The days that followed were awkward to say the least. Alicent walked around smug as all hell and your father continued to sulk. You decided enough was enough and when Alicent went out to the sept you decided to track your father down. Unsurprisingly you found him staring over a model of the city.
“Father?” you greeted, walking closer to the tired looking man, “May we talk?”
“Of course, sweet child,” he said, nodding for you to sit beside him before sighing, “You know I worry for you?”
“I do father, and I do appreciate it,” you lied but did your best to look sympathetic to your clueless father, “but I was thinking. Well. I found another match you see father,” you spoke, and his head perked up as he waited for you to finally spit it out, “He’s sweet and kind and his family is well respected. You even like his father, and I was just thinking- “
“Out with-it child,”
You took a breath before finally asking, “Have you considered Harwin Strong yet father?” Viserys sighed, his eyes turning away but you continued, “Think about it! I’d be able to be at court and help Helena with her studies. Plus, you have four more children so four more matches. You already have the Velaryon which secures the crownlands. Harwin and I would secure the Riverlands. Then after you betrothed Helena, Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron you will have six of the seven kingdoms on your side. Your reach will go far especially if our children do the same,”
“You want to dilute the blood of old Valyria?” he asked, sounding exhausted as he spoke.
“No father, only strengthen it,” you said, moving to hold his hand, “Besides there is no other Targaryen or Velaryon to wed unless uncle daemon is brought back from exile- “you said but your father raised his hand to hush you.
He paused for a moment before nodding, “I will think about it. but for now, leave me. I have a lot to consider,”
“Thank you, father,”
-
Apparently Alicent must have missed this chamber meeting because somehow the news came back finally in your favour. Harwin would be your husband. You were so happy when your father told you that you instantly hugged him before rushing to find Harwin however that night at dinner Alicent shot you many dirty looks.
Finally, you had undermined her. you’d won. Well, that’s how it felt at first, but her glares began to sink into your skin till it itched. As the dinner ended, she tapped her cup with her fork, “A toast to my dear sweet daughter,” she smiled at you making your father beam, “May she have a marriage like ours,” she said, holding his hand tightly but you felt your stomach flutter.
“Here, here,” your father said, standing to kiss your cheek.
Alicent did the same, her arms twisting round your back into a bony hug, “Do not forget yourself darling,” she whispered sweetly in your ear, “You don’t win that easily,”
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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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Ruining You
Ser Harwin Strong x Female Reader
Summary: You’re Viserys’ eldest daughter, the blood of the dragon running thick. You have a temper, and it seems Harwin is the only one brave enough to tame it despite your mutual loathing
Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff, swearing and depictions of violence
A/N: Holy shit. This was originally 13k words but in the last thousand the plot went a bit haywire and the writing was bleh so I deleted that and just fixed a few things to make it where it is now. I sincerely apologise if this isn’t what you thought when I originally posted the idea, it did kind of run away on me but at the same time, I lowkey love it. Enjoy, this 12k fic :)
Rage boils deep within your veins, the bubbles extremely close to spilling over. Your father always said you and your sister Rhaenyra share the blood of the dragon, especially the hot temperament, though he underestimated just how ferocious you can get, even as a child.
You feel every emotion with such a raw intensity that sometimes you don't know what to do, or how to deal with it and it explodes, consuming you whole and turning you into someone entirely different. Your alter ego, as your uncle Daemon calls it.
Much like now, wildfire blazing within your eyes, steam simmering out of your ears and blood spilling into your mouth from grinding your teeth so hard. It takes every ounce of strength to not erupt, destroy anything in your path and embarrass your father further.
"Are you even listening to me?!" Viserys yells from the throne, his voice echoing down the great hall for all to hear.
No, you're not listening to him, too busy trying to direct your anger elsewhere, direct it at someone else. Pain flares up your arms, wrapping around like a snake as your nails dig into your palms.
Viserys calls your name and almost stumbles back in response to your attention flickering up to him. "Is that all, your grace?" You grit.
The small group of occupants cease breathing. Viserys sighs exasperatedly, gesturing for your dismissal. Without hesitation you spin on your heel, marching your way out of the hall and toward the fastest exit out of the Keep, away from prying eyes.
Servants, lords and ladies all evacuate the premises, steering clear of your path of destruction as you make your way toward the back of the gardens, your secret area you call it. Your dress swishes around your ankles, your heeled boots clipping the ground.
You barely make it in time, rounding the large tree and searching for your hidden blade. The steel glints under the sunlight, ringing as it slashes through the air and makes contact with the already-exposed bark. Bits fly everywhere with each swing, your bottled-up rage slowly leaking out.
You don't hear the person approach, nor do you feel the eyes watching you intently, silent and observing. To say the knight is used to your outbursts is an understatement. You never fail to remind him of who you're descendant from, the unyielding anger and raw emotions of a Targaryen.
A dragon.
"Fuck!" You scream angrily, tears pricking the corner of your eyes and your knees buckling. You hit the earth harshly, staining your dress, not that you care at this moment.
The sword falls from your grip, landing amongst the dirt.
"I half expected you to climb atop your dragon and burn King's Landing to the ground," the knight muses from behind you, making himself known and slowly approaching you like a rabid animal.
You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing him away and hoping to awaken from this horrible nightmare. You hear the debris snap under his weight with each step closer, reigniting your hatred.
With precision, despite the dress, you come to your feet and whirl around, your hand having grasped your blade in the process. "And you best believe I'd burn you first, you fucking snitch." You seethe, pointing the end toward him.
"Princess-" he starts, daring to place his foot down and inch himself closer.
"Unless you want to be choking on your blood Ser Harwin," you address him. "I'd stand down and leave me be."
Harwin swallows thickly, an inkling of fear rolling down his spine. "It wasn't me," he starts off carefully, deciding to keep his distance. "I never told anyone, certainly not your father or mine. But to be truthful, I'm glad someone else did."
"Liar," you approach him with purpose, resting the point of the blade on his knitted tunic. "You have the most to gain by staying on his good side, being rewarded with his favour; Commander of the Gold Cloaks." He holds your eye, his fingers twitching. "My uncle is bound to screw up eventually and when that happens, you'll slide right into his position. All you heirs are the same."
"Princess," he tries again.
"Breakbones."
His jaw flexes. You've struck a nerve, a nerve you love to hit. "Don't," he warns.
"Go guard your honourable princess, and leave me alone. I'm in no tolerable mood." You indicate your younger sister, Rhaenyra.
Harwin breathes steadily through his nose, ignoring the fact that you're trying to get under his skin, to piss him off like you are. It's almost routine by now, especially when you're this riled up.
"And so you plan to torture the tree? With that flimsy sword, which by the way, will shatter the moment it meets real steel."
You close your eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling harshly. Harwin makes a split-second decision, one that he's sure will land him as food for your dragon. He knocks your sword away, the unexpected force causing you to stumble back and blink up at him.
"Never take your eyes off your opponent."
Confusion begins to overlap your previous state, your fingers twisting for a better grip on the handle of your sword that now is by your side. "What are you-"
"Who taught you to wield a sword?" You don't answer. Harwin speaks your name, a different kind of fire burning within you. "Who taught you?" He presses, his tone firm, as though he talks to a child.
"Ser Criston Cole."
"Ser Criston Cole," he drawls, almost in disbelief. "Of fucking course." He mumbles to himself. His own kind of anger sparks, his skin crawling at the thought of the two of you alone. "And let me guess, you begged and pleaded with him to teach you how to defend yourself because you know that going outside the Red Keep is a stupid fucking idea."
He should slap himself for speaking so indirectly, informally to you, his princess. Yet, he couldn't stop the words from spilling out.
During your nights, you spend them down in Flea Bottom, or anywhere that's not the Red Keep, spreading your wings and soaring. You hate being holed up, being monitored and being expected to carry out duties you never asked for, never wanted. Even as a child, you wished you of been born to a low-born family, even a lady and lord would be better than King Viserys' firstborn.
When your mother and brother passed, Viserys was prepared to bake you his heir, but you declined. You could think of nothing worse, having seen the stress and duty your father must endure on a day-to-day basis. You know Rhaenyra will be a better Queen.
Not to mention, you wish to marry for love. As childish and dreamer-like for you to want, you gave up fighting years ago.
On most of your escapades, Harwin finds you, and ultimately drags you back to the safety of the Keep. He's the only knight that you know of, that's caught you, leading you to believe he is responsible for reporting it to your father. Hence why you were abruptly dragged from your chambers this morning.
"And you think you can do better? Ser Criston at least understands that I'll do as I please, not try and reprimand me at every given chance." You lower your voice. "And watch yourself, Ser Harwin, I'm still your princess, no matter how much you hate it."
Regret flashes in his eyes before it's gone. "Then let's see what you've learnt."
Harwin draws his sword, knowing damn well he could be executed for doing so. But at this moment, you're both too wound up to differentiate between what's right and wrong. A habit, of the both of you.
You flinch at the large sword, deep down knowing Harwin would never jeopardise you, never put you in harm's way or risk hurting you. You lift your chin, swallowing the lump in your throat and raising your sword.
He watches in amusement, allowing you a heartbeat before he attacks, bringing his sword down. You block with ease, unprepared for how light it is. He's pulling all his strength back. You push the sword away, moving around and keeping your footwork light, smirking.
"Is something funny?" Harwin raises an unimpressed brow, his eyes never leaving you.
You bite back a smile at his clear agitation. "No."
He grunts, striking again. Your reflexes move before you think, blocking and attempting to counterattack yourself, refusing to show your frustration. He's still clearly overpowering you and much more experienced.
You silently pray for those that meet the end of Harwin's fury.
"Tell me, Princess" he starts, a loud ringing vibrating into the area as your swords clash. "Has Ser Criston taught you hand-to-hand combat, or how to escape someone's grip?"
The question takes you off guard, your head tilting as you try to remember. Harwin uses the moment to smack your sword out of your hand, his own dropping for your safety and his arms wrapping around you.
You cease breathing, the constricted in your throat and your heart skipping a beat. An arm gently presses against your throat, Harwin having put you in a controlled headlock, your back flush with his front.
Your lips part, your fingers instinctively digging into his arm. Heat crawls up your neck, blood pounding in your ear. You know this is a training exercise, but you can't help in feeling so safe in his arms. Your muscles automatically relax, your adrenaline calms and your breath slowly comes back to you with each second.
You should hate the situation you're in. Granted, if it was any other person you'd be kicking up a shit storm and preparing to have them fed to your dragon but it's not just anyone. It's Harwin, and that makes you hate him more.
Hate him for having this effect on you, for consuming your thoughts and imprinting himself amongst your dreams. Though you know he's not to blame, it's yourself.
For falling so profoundly, and irrevocably in love with him.
"No doubt, you could handle yourself in an armed fight but what if they get the upper hand, like I did just now, and you're left with close combat, or even worse, they grab you like this," Harwin says to you, his voice thickening with an emotion you can't quite place. "How do you get out?"
You shake with nerves, at the thought of your escape plan. It's stupid, and it might not work and fuck everything up. Though it could work, and once again, fuck it all up. You push the insecurities down, knowing that he's trying to teach you a life lesson, even if you don't want to hear it.
You twist your head, his grip not being tight in any way, and find his lips with ease, capturing them. Harwin falters, his arms opening and allowing you the opportunity to slip through and distance yourself from him.
"That's how." You lick your lips, drawing the taste of him into your mouth.
Harwin studies you with a deep look of something, mixed with unhinged anger and fear. He doesn't say anything, even as he quickly reaches for his sword, sheathing it against his hip and holding your eye for a moment longer.
"One day," he croaks. "You're going to wake up and find yourself all alone." And with that, he turns his back on you.
You watch him leave, shakily bringing the pads of your fingers to your lips, brushing them tenderly. You feel humiliated, shameful and disgusted. You also feel lighter, having finally answered your own question; his lips are soft and the taste of his breakfast still lingers.
"I already am." You whisper to yourself, biting your finger to keep the tears at bay, the anger subsided.
The sun begins its descent from the highest point in the sky before you arrive back at your quarters, dismissing your maids in exchange for silence. You sit atop a lounge on the windowsill, breathing the fresher air from the high distance, ignoring the crestfallen ache in your heart.
You knew something like this would happen, that Harwin would reject you and push you away. It's part of the reason why you hate him because you know you can't have him. Your father would never allow it, as his firstborn. He'd see to it that you marry a beneficial house, to further strengthen your sister's claim to the throne since you turned away from it.
It doesn't make it any easier, or any less hard. You've spent almost every day in each other's presence, in either passing or company. You've known him since he was a boy. Uncoordinated and lanky, until he grew and filled out into the man he is today.
"I don't know what you've done, but I'd steer clear from father," Rhaenyra bursts inside, speaking before seeing you. She calls for you when you don't respond, hoping she'll leave.
She doesn't.
Rhaenyra perches herself beside you, brushing a strand of your curly hair behind your ear. "What's happened?"
"Ser Harwin told father of my nightly adventures."
Rhaenyra frowns, gazing out the window. "It wasn't him, it was Ser Criston," you gape at her, shifting to lean your back against the wall, mirroring your sister. "He said as much when Ser Harwin confronted him about teaching you how to wield a sword, and the two go into it."
"Shit," you murmur, leaning your head back.
"I assume he came from seeing you, with how riled up he was. Never seen him so angry."
She looks at you expectantly. "I kissed him." Her eyes widen. "To prove a point! He asked me how I'd escape from a headlock, and I kissed him, to distract him. It worked because he let go of me."
"Makes sense," Rhaenyra nods, referring to his destructive path. "What was it like?"
You glance at her, a small smile ghosting your lips. "It was only brief, but they are smooth, the complete opposite of him."
You both giggle, dismissing the fact that you dishonoured not only yourself but Harwin. For a few minutes, you sit in silence, relishing in the company of your sister. These moments are rare, as of late, with her newfound responsibilities.
"Are you going to listen to father?"
You stare at her, the answer shining in your lilac eyes. "What do you think."
-
Harwin surrounds himself with his fellow gold cloaks, in an attempt to enjoy his night off. They laugh and joke, spilling their alcohol and losing their hands on woman's bodies.
He finishes his drink rather frustratedly, slamming it on the counter accidentally. He can't get the stupid fucking kiss out of his head, replaying the scene over and over.
The way your body moulded to his own, your smaller frame engulfed and your erratic heart pounding against his arm. How he divulged himself and allowed his nose to brush your hair, inhaling your scent and losing his control.
And fuck, when you leant up and kissed him, he couldn't help but respond. His restraint snapped at that moment, and if it weren't for you slipping out and distancing yourself-he doesn't want to imagine what he would have done.
From your first meeting, he knew he'd grow up to love you, your hot-headed temperament and stubborn wilfulness. Before he arrived in Kings Landing, his father had drilled into him how to act, how the royal family would act, yet there you stood, unaware of his presence as you yelled profanities into the sky. Not to mention, when you caught him gawking, asked him, the fuck are you looking at?
Your first words ever spoken to him.
He sighs dramatically, rubbing his face and deciding to leave, knowing that drinking his problems away won't solve anything. The cool air nips at him through his woollen clothes, his dark cape swaying behind him as he makes his way back to the Keep.
Approaching the gates, he hears a rustle, pausing to make sure his senses aren't clouded. "Fucking shit," Harwin immediately reaches for his sword, keeping his hand on the hilt whilst cautiously making his way closer to the whispered profanities.
He watches you, straightening your clothes and checking to make sure the coast is clear before you walk off toward the city. He raises a brow at the choice of clothes; black pants and a shirt, with a jacket that is a size too big and a cloak to hide your white hair. Though nothing can cover the deep lilac of your eyes.
He makes the hasty decision to follow you, keeping his distance yet being close enough to protect you should anything happen. Harwin smiles to himself, knowing this is the perfect opportunity to teach you a lesson.
If it's so easy for him to sneak up behind you, imagine someone else, with impure intentions.
He follows you for some time, a small part of him enjoying the look of awe and joy at the sights. Each night you leave, you try to explore new parts of the city, learning about your folk. Harwin must admit, not many royals would do so, preferring to stick to the comforts of the Keep.
The moon is high in the sky, shining down and revealing clear paths as you steer left and right, nowhere in particular yet taking note of each turn. You may be reckless, but you're not stupid.
Harwin chooses this moment to make his move, observing the way you slip steadily down the passageway and pause at the sound of water lapping against the walls. He creeps out, covering your mouth and pulling you to him, stepping out of the light and into the darkness.
You scream against his gloved hand, thrashing wildly and reaching for your concealed knife when, "and just like that princess, I've killed you. Or worse, knocked you out and used you for my pleasantries. How many times must I tell you until you get it through your thick skull that this isn't safe."
You stop, your heart thundering and your adrenaline pumping. You close your eyes, subconsciously leaning further into Harwin. He hesitantly removes his hand, waiting for the explosion.
"I could have killed you," you murmur, the weight of the blade heavy in your hand. You were prepared to stab him in the kidney. The thought of harming him destroys you. "I could have killed you, all because of your stupidity!" You whirl around, still touching him.
"My stupidity?" He repeats.
"Yes!" You fire, glaring up at him. "All to teach me a lesson, when I'm not stupid! Have you ever thought that maybe I just don't give a fuck? I know it's not safe, why do you think I sneak around and blend in." You pause, avoiding his gaze and staring at the Strong house crest on his chest. "This is the only time I feel normal, where my existence is insignificant."
"Princess, no one asks to be born into their roles, to be born rich or poor," he starts, remembering all the times you spoke of wishing to be someone other than a princess, other than Viserys' firstborn. "But it's our duty to push through, to become what we're meant to be; Lord of Harrenhal, and Princess, of the seven kingdoms."
Your emotions are high and twisted, a single tear slipping down your cheek as you squeeze your eyes shut to keep them at bay. "I didn't want to be a Queen, I sure as hell don't want to be a princess. I just want to be someone's wife, someone's mother. Someone's greatest love. Is that so hard?"
You can't control the words, the heartfelt words that shatter Harwin. Suddenly, he understands you. He knows you. He says your name, softly, bringing his hand to your chin and tilting it up. Forcing you to look at him.
Harwin wipes at your cheek with his thumb, tenderly caressing the flesh and relishing in the feel of you in his hand. So small and frail. So exposed. He opens his mouth to say more when the sound of metal armour clanging together draws his attention elsewhere.
"Shit." He curses.
He has nowhere to move to. The path spans over a hundred metres, with a wall on one side and the water's edge on the other. He couldn't even go to a corner. Solutions run through his mind, the sound of guards nearing causing him to do the first thing that pops up.
"Sorry, Princess." He mumbles, pushing you against the concrete wall and covering the majority of your body with his, with no space left between you. Your brows furrow in confusion, question flashing in your eyes.
Harwin does what he's always wanted to do: press his lips to yours.
You squeak, given no time to prepare, your eyes wide in surprise. Only twelve hours ago, he was looking at you with utter hatred and disgust for you doing the same thing. The blade clatters against the ground.
The gold cloaks walk past without an issue, chuckling at the two of you but paying no mind. Harwin keeps his lips firmly against you, hating having to put you in this situation.
When they become a dot in the distance, does he pull away, searching your eyes. "You kissed me back," you refer to earlier. That was your first kiss, this you never realised Harwin had responded. Your eyes harden, your lips pursing as you inhale as much air as possible before being your hand up and slapping him. His head snaps to the side at the sheer force, shock yet understandable written on his face.
He doesn't respond, the words unable to form in his mouth. He swallows thickly, his jaw taut. He deserved that. He dares look at you again, his chest rising rapidly and the air crackling.
You push off the wall, shaking your head in disbelief and attempting to round him. Your shoulder clashes with his when he turns to grab your upper arm, halting you. You glare up at him, opening your mouth to hurtle harsh words at him. Harwin moves first, pulling you back to him and claiming your lips.
You're not even given a chance to respond before he pulls back, his face still close and his breath fanning your cheeks. He looks at you with hunger, lust and want. Realisation dawns on you; he's just as conflicted as you are.
Your heart tugs you forward, your hands gripping his tunic and meeting him halfway. Harwin's hands cup the sides of your head.
He devours you, his tongue slipping into your mouth with ease and his hands sliding to the base of your neck and head, titling you up to give more access. You whimper, grappling with his tunic as if he could suddenly move away from you.
He doesn't, shifting to have your back against the wall again, his apparent hard-on pressing into you. Your lungs ache with release, the lack of oxygen making you lightheaded yet desperate for more.
Slowly and reluctantly, you part, his forehead resting on yours. Your lips are evidently swollen, the taste of him still lingering as he peppers you softly, not quite wanting to stop.
"Harwin," you whisper, gliding your hands up to his cheeks, running the pads of your fingers over his beard and around his features.
"I know."
He could be executed for this, you could be disowned. But gods, does it feel right. Right to be in his hold, to be desired and kissed. You never want to stop.
"Fuck I know." He repeats, lower.
You nuzzle each other, refusing to leave the comfort of one another's warmth and touch, despite that nagging thought tugging in the back of your mind. Harwin murmurs that he needs to return you to the Keep, reluctantly standing straighter and removing himself from you.
You follow him in silence, sticking close and for once, not giving him grief. A step up from your usual nights out.
You soon arrive, pausing before you part and he enters through the main gates whilst you scamper up your hidden passageway. "I know it wasn't you, who told my father." You start. "It was wrong of me to accuse you, and I hope one day you can forgive my insolence, and accept my apology."
"Of course, Princess. It is known for spoilt children to lash out when they don't receive what they want," he begins to walk back with a teasing smirk.
You narrow your eyes, watching him for a heartbeat longer and then turning to disappear yourself. The journey back to your quarters is always short, your footsteps light as you work to not attract attention to yourself.
Heaving the door open, you stop dead in your tracks at the sight of your father standing in your room. "Father-"
"Where have you been?" He says in a low, deadly voice.
"Taking a walk,"
"Don't lie to me!" Viserys yells.
The room falls silent. You stare at one another, refusing to break contact. "What will it take for you to listen to me?"
You think over your choice of words. Is it wise to mention that you wish to marry for love? That you wish he'd allow for you to leave this godforsaken city and be elsewhere, anywhere. Be with Harwin.
"I wish-" you choke, refusing to look at him as you lay yourself bare. "I wish to marry of my own free will."
Silence. More silence, his fury-ignited eyes never leaving you, even as you brave the idea to glance up. "No."
"What-"
"You refused me in naming you heir, you will not refuse me in arranging a marriage for you. That, I can not accept." You gape at him, horror and sickness twisting deep within you. "Take this as your punishment for disobeying me."
"You can't do this!" You yell at his retreated figure, anger surfacing and exploding.
"Yes, I can." Viserys ends the argument, storming out of your quarters and forcibly shutting your door. You release a blood-curdling scream, frustration and betrayal gnawing at you.
You grab the closest object, a cup, and hurtle it across the room. It clangs every time it meets the ground, the metal ringing dying down when it rolls to a stop. Your chest heaves, your jaw clenching and unclenching as you grasp for some control, to leash your emotions.
You can't.
You want to hurt your father, hurt him like he's hurt you. There's only one way you know how, leaving you to quickly exit your room through the hidden passageway, navigating down unfamiliar tunnels.
When you were younger, you explored them all, yet there is only a small handful you use, mainly for your adventures outside the Keep.
You basically float over the ground, your steps carefully placed despite your fast pace, eager to arrive at your destination. You reach the door, knocking quickly but firmly, making sure you don't arouse the Hand of the King, or his younger son.
"Princess?" Harwin questions, glancing beyond you. "Is everything alright?"
You say nothing, surging forward and claiming his lips. Harwin can only raise his brows in surprise, at both your forwardness and boldness, your hands resting on his chest to walk him backward, closing the door swiftly behind you.
"What was that for?" He presses, distancing himself from you. He doesn't want to think of the penalty if you were found at this very moment. "Hmm?"
You nibble your lip, holding his gaze even though you'd rather burn for the next words that come out. "I need you."
The room falls silent, only the crackle of the fire is enough from keeping it dark and noiseless. Harwin studies you, not quite believing you. "You need me?" He approaches, agonisingly slow. "I find that very interesting, since only an hour or so ago, you were quite content."
He stands before you, his fingers coming under your chin and leaning your head up. He observes you, enjoying watching you squirm. "The truth, now." He knows you're lying, or at the very least, not entirely honest.
"I am telling the truth-" Harwin changes his grip, pulling you close to him by your chin. You almost collapse. He murmurs your name, the sound rolling down your back on waves. His eyes glint with a challenge, daring you to protest. Your neck heats up. "I could find little sleep, and my," you stop, wishing for the floor to open and swallow you hole. Harwin raises a brow.
"My fingers were insufficient."
You don't realise, that the previous fire of wrath has simmered down, laying dormant. A different burn ravages your body.
A wicked smile pulls at the corner of Harwin's mouth, his demeanour shifting. "Was that so hard?" His voice holding a certain husk, that you've never heard.
His thumb brushes your smooth skin, braving the course of your lips. You release a small breath you didn't realise you were holding and your mouth parts. Harwin drags your bottom lip down, enjoying your compliance.
"You need me to soothe that ache, Princess?" He tortures you, his mouth ghosting you yet inching up every time you try to close the gap.
"Please," you're not sure what you're begging for, the words just tumbling out. You close your eyes in frustration, his breath fanning you.
He finally relents, coming down on your mouth heavily. You barely have a moment to properly respond, his fingers tightening on your chin and his free hand coming to the base of your neck, keeping you steady as he takes your breath.
"This is all you needed," he pulls a hairsbreadth away, his nose pressing onto the side of yours. "Someone to dominate you, leave you powerless." He realises, looking over your wanton state.
Your hands fist his shirt, desperation clear on your face. He smiles softly, abruptly pulling back and creating a well-spaced distance from you. You feel as if a cold bucket of water has been poured over you, watching as he takes a seat by the fire.
"Go to bed, Princess."
You gape at him, fury bubbling to the surface. "Harwin," you start, taking a tentative step forward.
"What you are asking for, is treason. The fucking death penalty."
You flare up. "So is kissing me! What is going a little further?"
"We are talking about your virtue." He raises his voice, momentarily forgetting about his whereabouts. Gods above, should someone come knocking. "That would be despicable of me, to take something that belongs to your husband."
You frown, coming to stand before him, the sudden rush of heat inflicting goosebumps. "It should be mine to give away, not his to take."
He looks up at you, his curls dishevelled and unruly. He wears a worn shirt, the casual appearance causing your stomach to twist. What you would give, to share days where you are laid bare with each other, to see the other side of Harwin, the improper side of him.
"I trust you, Harwin," you begin, standing between his legs. "I want it to be you. No one else but you, who sees me, and touches me." You hoist a leg over his lap, moving to straddle his lap, your knees digging into the edge of the cushion.
Instinctively, Harwin's hands come to your waist, keeping you situated. He battles with his morals, his body and heart reacting completely opposite to his mind. If you were a low-born, he'd have fucked you back in the passageway, without a care of onlookers.
But your status halts him.
You say his name again, caressing his jaw, your nails scraping through his beard. He doesn't break contact, his palms wandering along your side, moving with a mind of their own. It's plain to see, how much he wants you, how much you want each other.
Painstakingly obvious.
You swallow nervously, inching down to press a gentle kiss on the underside of his jaw, allowing time for him to push you off should he really not want to continue. You wouldn't ask that of him. His fingers flex into your flesh, his head angling up slightly.
A ghost of a smirk plants itself over your lips, a sudden arrogance blooming at his reaction, at his heavier breath intake. You travel to his neck, feeling the urge to nibble lightly, Harwin rolling your hips into him reflexively.
You gasp into his skin at the sudden pleasure, the seam of your pants pulling tightly over your clit. Harwin groans lowly, both at your mouth finding his sweet spot and your hips rutting into him. A sinister thought crosses his mind.
Effortlessly he hoists you up, placing you over his thigh. You sit back in confusion, your initial reaction being that he wants to stop, until he speaks. "You say you use your fingers," your slightly wide eyes are enough of a confirmation. "Then use me. Get yourself off using me."
Your lips part, your eyes searching his. He smiles reassuringly, dragging your hips over his thigh. "Take your pleasure, Princess."
Your head drops into the crevice of his shoulder, an airy moan escaping you at the new sensation. Naturally, you begin to move on your own, a hand snaking up the other side of his head to thread through his curls, using him as leverage.
Harwin jolts his leg up, the action bringing a new wave of pleasure through you. You whimper into his shoulder, your mind reminding you how improper this is, how a woman takes no pleasure from laying with a man yet your body ignores every lesson you've ever been taught.
A low pressure builds, your thighs starting to shake and your movements quickening. Harwin makes the split decision to help, driving your hips down and over, the new motion brings you to your release.
You pant against him, squeezing your eyes shut as he continues to move you gently, drawing your orgasm out. Slowly he comes to a stop, allowing you a moment to really comprehend what's happening before he shifts in a way that he can plant a kiss on your head.
"Was that good?"
You nod, a familiar heat rising in your cheeks. Gods that felt fucking magical, and he barely did anything. You can only imagine how his cock will feel.
He chuckles lightly, coaxing you to sit back and reveal your pretty face. He drags the backs of his fingers down your cheek, memorising each fine detail. Deep down, a small part of him fears this will be the last he'll ever see of it.
In one movement, Harwin stands and gingerly lowers you onto the fur rug in front of the fire, the flames dancing dangerously close. He knows how much you love the heat.
You gaze up at him, allowing him the opportunity to worship you. His large hands slip under your shirt, dragging the material as he roams every inch of your side. You arch your back and raise your arms, allowing easier access to glide the shirt off.
Goosebumps erupt under his hardened callouses, his fingers interlocking with yours once he moves up your arms and allows the shirt to bunch above your head. "Keep them here," he murmurs, capturing your lips.
You figure he means your hands, nodding against his mouth. His tongue invades your mouth, his breath becoming your own and his fingers flexing at the sheer taste of you. You have no idea how much power you wield over him.
His hands begin their descent, grazing your flesh and finding solace on your breasts, his mouth following suit. You grab onto the edge of the fur rug, gripping it firmly.
His tongue flicks your erect nipple, his teeth meeting the tender flesh. He nips and sucks around the area, a hand paying attention to your other breast, careful to administer equally. You gasp and writhe under him, unaware that he could bring you any pleasure from this.
Eventually, he moves on, stopping at your waistline. He flickers up to you, a silent ask of permission in his eyes. You give an airy yes, anticipation gnawing at you. Harwin pulls your pants and undergarment in one motion, the cool air causing you to jump.
He laughs softly, grinning at your nakedness, at the way your skin glows under the firelight. Right now, you're all his, his to take, to touch and love. His mind captures this moment, storing it away for a time when he plans on replaying it over and over.
"How do you feel, Princess, knowing you're about to be my dessert."
Your eyes brows raise at the comment, unsure of his hidden innuendo. A dark part of Harwin relishes in the fact that it's him, that gets to taint you. That he's the one to open the gates to a whole new world of pleasure. He plans on ruining you for any other man.
"What are you doing?" You ask more in curiousness than fear. Of all your lessons, the Septas never mentioned a man putting his head between your legs.
"I'm dining on my Princess, is that alright with you?" A dark glint shines in his eyes from between your thighs, his beard grazing your soft flesh. You whimper, biting your lip and giving him the go-ahead.
You suck in a deep breath at the first contact of his tongue, your body seizing. Fuck. You throw your head back in a silent moan, Harwin's mouth ravaging you. His tongue explores your folds and clit, emitting all pitches of sounds from you.
Suddenly his hands snake around your thighs and grip you thoroughly, spreading them further around his head and giving him easier access. You squeal at the feeling of his tongue entering you, pumping in and out.
"Harwin," your knuckles have since turned white.
This is a high you never thought you could experience, the intensity hitting you like a wave. The combination of his tongue, his lips and his beard is enough to drive you over. Of course, Harwin intends for you to be fully prepared, momentarily coming up to gauge your reaction as he pushes a finger into you.
You release a deep groan at the intrusion, the pleasure brewing. He takes his time, moving in and out of you, slowly adding a second finger at the same time his thumb rubs your clit.
You squeeze your eyes shut, unable to do anything but writhe under his hand. Gods you wish you could put your arms down and grab him, show him how good he's making you feel. Harwin spreads his fingers carefully, intently studying your reaction. He wants you prepped as best as possible, wanting your first-time pain-free.
With all these motions and pleasantries you fall over the edge, calling out his name. Harwin continues his movements for a second longer before removing his hand, allowing you to come down from your high.
He skims over you, capturing your lips and emptying your lungs. You instantly wrap your arms around him, eager to keep him close. He grinds himself into you, allowing you a moment to feel how hard he is.
You lick your lips whilst you watch him undress, tossing his clothes somewhere before diving straight back down to you. You barely get a chance to admire his hard-earned body, instead running your fingers deep into his back muscles.
"Give me your hand," he guides it down, wrapping it firmly around his cock. You suppress a giggle at his involuntarily deep groan. "This is what you do to me," he says your name. "This, and so much more. You have no idea the kind of control that's in your favour."
You can't help but smirk. You leave your hand wrapped around him, a little unsure of what to do. "You take the lead, whenever you're ready." Oh. He means for you to put him in.
You glance down, hesitantly gliding to the tip, drawing it closer. "Can you help?" You have no fucking idea what you're doing.
His hand envelops your own, guiding it to you and nudging your opening. You suck in a deep breath, flickering up to his own deep blue eyes. He leaves you to your own devices, gritting his teeth at every inch.
The feeling is unlike anything you've ever experienced. For the time being, it's uncomfortable and unnatural, your body's initial reaction to close your legs and get him out of you. But you don't, removing your hand and granting Harwin the opportunity to ease in.
"Harwin." You grunt, clawing at his shoulders.
"You're doing so well, taking me so well." He praises, finally stopping once he's filled you. As time passes, your body begins to relax, climatizing to having his cock stretch you open.
"Move, please move." You strain, wanting this first part to be over with.
He does, slowly rocking out and in, the slight pain shifting to pleasure, your deep breaths becoming short. You have no idea what to do besides lay here, wrapped around Harwin as he thrusts into you, restraining himself from fucking you into the rug.
That will be for later.
For now, he intends on showing you a softer, gentler side of him, one where he tenderly brings you to release.
He fists the fur beside your head, his other hand on your hip as he steadily moves within you, your back arching slightly when he reaches parts of you, you never thought he'd reach.
You bring a hand to his face, brushing a part of his curls back and revealing his prominent features, trying desperately to hold contact.
He uses the hold on your hip as leverage, lifting your hips ever so little when he ruts into you, eliciting all frequencies of sounds from you. Your walls begin to clench around him, alerting him of your impending orgasm.
Slipping his hand over, Harwin teases your clit, eager to really please you. With this being your first time, your climax quite quickly, Harwin's name falling from your lips.
You gasp at his sudden eviction, a small part of you wondering if that was it. Harwin soon answers, scooping you up off the ground and planting you beside the fire, your front pressing against the wall. Thankfully the fire leaves it warm.
"Harwin, what are you-oh fuck!" You cry out at his sudden intrusion, entering from behind.
Harwin leaves no space between you, your legs spread to give him better access and a hand weaving through your hair and pulling your head to the side. "You wanted this, Princess, and you'll take it." He grunts into your ear, his thrusts hitting sharply. "But don't worry, you'll find yourself soon enjoying it."
You almost flutter around him, the words sinking in and leaving you in a hot and bothered state. His guttural voice mixed with those cold, demeaning words.
In a way, he's not wrong, the new position causing all sorts of pleasures to tremble through your body; your nipples grazing the stone, his cock hammering into you and his dominant hands manoeuvring you like a whore.
You snake an arm around, cupping the back of his head, keeping him close. With your cheek melted into the stone wall, his breath moulds with your own, your lips dangerously near, yet not touching. You close your eyes, enjoying the brutal fucking and not to mention, Harwin's own grunting and groaning.
It brings you joy to know that he finds great pleasure in you.
"You have no idea what you've just done, allowing me the honour to be the first to have my way with you. It wasn't a smart move Princess because I intend to ruin you," it's as though his own words spur him on, harshly rutting into you and carving you into the wall. You can do nothing but take it, and endure his treatment.
You wouldn't have it any other way.
"I intend on breaking you in to my cock, destroying all hope for you to ever enjoy someone else." He lowers his voice almost menacingly. "No one will ever fuck you like I am."
You attempt a nod, knowing he's correct. As fucked up as it seems, you know that only Harwin can bring you to these highs. He's the only one you'll ever allow to treat you this way. Like an object, a vacant hole.
You know your close, your legs beginning to shake and your breath quickening. "Harwin, please," you whimper, once again not entirely sure what you're pleading for.
Whatever it is, you know he can grant it.
Somehow he hits a deeper angle, leaving you to cry out clenching around him. He falters for a second, close to spilling over himself. He so desperately wants to, but he's holding out. With the new tempo, you crumble, spilling around Harwin as he continues to thrust into you.
You whine against him, the overwhelming pleasure causing tears to prick in the corners of your eyes. He doesn't stop, only slowing as he whirls you around, picking you up by your thighs and clamping them to his waist.
"Gods," you moan airily, his cock ramming against your sensitive walls.
"The seven won't help you here." He muses, observing your expressions.
Amazingly enough, Harwin increases his tempo, similar to before. You choke, pawing at his chest. "Harwin I can't,"
"Yes you can, hey," he cups your jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. "One more, be a good girl and give me one more, you can do it."
You bite your lip at the pain beginning to throb, your body exhausted and to be honest, your pussy used. His dark eyes watch you, a hand coming down to press against your clit, helping in relieve that pressure building once again.
He groans your name, his other hand moving to brace against the skirting around the fireplace. With his strength and subconscious force, he breaks the corner of it. You barely react to the stone crumbling at his feet, more focused on climaxing for a third and final time.
He swallows your scream, the rush of you around him enough to bring him over, spilling his seed deep. You lean your head back, your chest heaving and no doubt your back scratched. You feel content, Harwin slumping into your shoulder, nuzzling your flesh.
"I never imagined it would feel like that," you say more to yourself, your fingers threading through his sweaty curls.
Harwin lifts his head. "It's never like that, Princess."
-
The wild winds blast through your hair, your dragon's head blocking the majority from hitting you smack bang on your chest. At this height, the force is unimaginable.
You slowly begin your descent, dreading the moment you land and go back to reality, your cruel reality. In these last few months, you were made to follow your sister during her tour, allowing the lords to put themselves forward for your hand, alongside Rhaenyra.
You scowled the entire time. A cold, blank sheet was over your face, your eyes narrowed and dark. You could burn your father for the agony he's put you through, refusing your one ask of him. He's strained his relationship with you.
As more and more days pass, you ponder the thought of running away, denouncing your blood and flying off into the distance, far from this heartache.
You know it's foolish, that you must uphold your duty, but fuck duty.
Your dragon lands smoothly, his large frame dwarfing you once you climb down, your hand brushing against his scales and his head. He growls softly, leaning into your palm and hoping to draw this time out. He's missed you, much like the dark-haired knight that only just received word of your arrival.
You and your sister returned in the night, and since dawn you've been up in the skies, forgetting the situation at hand for a while longer.
You gesture for the dragon keepers to guide your dragon back into his nest, turning swiftly and making your way up to the Keep. Eyes watch you, studying you with every step. Since your last conversation with your father, you've turned into a cold little bitch.
It's the only way you know to protect yourself.
Your steel gaze burns through anyone who makes contact, challenging them to speak their mind. You know of the rumours that spread, how you've turned down every suitor, how your attitude has changed and you are no longer the nice Princess.
You don't notice the deep blue eyes following your every move through the courtyard, studying your behaviour. A part of you wonders how your first interaction would be, having not spoken a word to him since that night.
After he helped you dress, you snuck back into your room riddled with guilt. Suppose you came to your senses, realising exactly what you'd just done. But somewhere, you didn't care, you still don't. The next day you prepared yourself to send him away, should he come looking, but he never did.
And then you left, following your sister around Westeros.
"Have you seen him?" Rhaenyra sidles up to you, accompanying you to your quarters where you must prepare for the large feast. Your father has organised a large gathering where he can personally meet both of your suitors.
"No." You answer plainly.
You confessed the incident to Rhaenyra, trusting her to keep it to herself. She has and is more excited for the two of you to speak than you are.
"We should have you dressed your best tonight, show him what he's had a taste of, and what he's no doubt missing."
You roll your eyes, looping an arm through hers. She's been your rock through the whole ideal with your father, understanding both sides, yet gravitating towards yours.
Rhaenyra takes the opportunity to order your ladies as she sees fit, demanding your hair be styled up to accentuate your chest and collarbone, as the dress she picks is an off-the-shoulder. The black and red material falls to the floor, the sleeves being a cape, tying to the bodice only at the shoulder and leaving your arms to be either hidden or shown.
The dress plunges down your breasts, opting for a revealing look, courtesy of Rhaenyra. She finishes it off with a dragon-like necklace, alluding to the animal protecting your neck. Throughout the design, scales to represent your house has been embroidered, making it one of a kind.
Your sister's dress is similar, in the revealing sense. The both of you are definitely pushing your father's buttons, and you have no care.
The hours past by swiftly, and soon it's time to present yourselves. You walk side by side to the great hall, an anxious tug pulling within your stomach. You can't help but wonder how the evening will play out, and just what will happen with Harwin.
The great doors swing open, Rhaenyra being introduced first as she's the heir, and you second. Your heart rate quickens with each step, hundreds of eyes staring. You debate whether to search for his, your pace faltering as you connect.
Gods be fucking damned, he looks divine.
Your mouth dries at his black attire, at his curls being pulled back and revealing his defined features. It seems he's had a similar thought, dressing his best.
So many words portray through your eyes, so many thoughts and emotions. His jaw flexes as you draw near, his seat being close to the high table. The rest of the room fades, his gaze agonisingly slowly moving down your body, images of your naked figure coming to mind.
He pauses at your breasts, subconsciously moistening his lips before he flickers up to your face. He inhales sharply. These past months have done you justice, or you've simply become a woman since he had his share of you.
Your exchange doesn't go unnoticed, by both of your fathers.
Rounding the high table, you opt to take your seat, unlike Rhaenyra who greets Viserys before joining you. Neither of you bothered for Alicent, who flares daggers at you in particular. She normally leaves you alone, yet since the altercation with your father, she guns for the both of you.
You keep silent through the speech, given by your father, focusing on the detail of the cloth before you. A burning sensation spreads through you, almost like a sixth sense, sensing a pair of eyes boring into your skull.
You clench your jaw, preparing to scare them off when you pause. It's Harwin, unable to keep his eyes off you. Your skin heats up, your thighs pressing together. Fuck, the effect he has on you.
Viserys takes his seat, the people either beginning to eat or taking to the dance floor, music filling the air. You decide to eat, keeping your attention locked on your plate, desperate to finish it before you go looking for Harwin. You want answers, and one way or another you'll get them.
At some stage a young lordling braves the high table, asking for your hand. You pause your chewing, your eyes venomous. "As you can see, my lord, I have yet to finish my meal," you gesture to the full plate.
The boy's cheeks redden, and quickly he excuses himself.
You scoff, resuming your meal with your eyes scouring the hall. You watch the people dance, eventually ditching your plate and leaning back in your chair, your eyes narrowing at Harwin's empty place beside his brother.
You find him amongst the crowd, his attention on a young maiden. Or so you thought, until his gaze flickers up to you, before averting again.
He wants to play that game.
Rising, you round the high table and descend the small flight of stairs, accepting the first person to offer a dance and joining everyone else. At first, you attempt to pay attention to your partner, your bodies moving in partial sync across the floor.
It's not until you spin outward, that you notice Harwin, now with a different girl.
With each movement, you glance over at him, a shadow of annoyance covering you as you realise he refuses to acknowledge you.
You inhale deeply, deciding to ignore your heart's biggest ache and try to enjoy your time without him. You switch partners, losing sight of Harwin as the night progresses.
You've lost sense of yourself, spinning and moving to the flow of the music, changing partners every so often that you have no idea who each one is. Your cheeks are warm, your eyes alight. You haven't had this much fun in a while, the suitors flocking to you for a chance to dance.
Your current partner twirls you around, his grip firm and unwavering. For the first time, he matches you, each movement sturdy and confidence clear in his steps. He makes for a great dance partner. You can't help but laugh as he draws you to him, only to raise his arm over your head and redirect you.
His hand slips from yours, signalling a partner change, and you spin to stop in someone's chest. You instinctively brace yourself on his chest, an apology on your lips as you glance up. "Ser Harwin," you breathe his name.
"Princess," he curtly acknowledges.
His chest tightens at your appearance, wide and excited eyes, wisps of hair falling from their place and framing your face. Not to mention, your delicate hands still pressed to him, leaving only a splinter of a gap between you.
You follow his gaze, realisation dawning. You go to remove yourself from him, when his own hands cover yours, gently plucking them off his chest. You expect him to let go, throw you aside and move on, but he doesn't.
Harwin grasps your hands, leading you into the next dance. You follow him, lost within the depths of his blue eyes, so many words threatening to tumble out. You move fluently, matching his pace.
"Harwin," you say lowly, unsure of how to proceed.
"Don't." Your brows furrow, your chests pressing together as you both move in. "Just don't say anything."
You scoff. "You expect us to dance in silence?" He says nothing, despite the electricity sparking around you. "I've been gone for months and this is how treat me?"
"What do you want me to say?" He grits.
"Anything!" You say a little loudly, breaking contact to stare at his house emblem stitched to his chest. You sigh, closing your eyes. "Why didn't you come to see me?"
"My apologies, Princess, I didn't realise I was your lap dog."
You snap up to him. Fire burns within your hard stare. "What is your problem? Why are you like this?"
He raises an eyebrow, extending you away from his body, only to snap you back to him. You collide with his chest harshly, flashbacks of that night coming to your forefront. Reminders of how easily he dominates you.
"Are you so dense, Princess, that you can't see your actions have consequences."
You gape at him, matching his hard levelled glare. "Careful Ser, anyone else and I'd have their head." Normally, Harwin would never dare speak so freely, yet at this moment the mere presence of you sets him alight. He grunts in response to your warning.
You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling deeply to keep the dragon at bay. The last thing anyone needs is for you to boil over and explode. "What actions are you speaking of?"
You honestly have no idea what he's referring to. "Ahh, so you're ignorant as well. Tell me again why you came to me that night, why you begged,"
"I did not beg!" You almost growl. Fuck he makes you angry, almost rivalling your father at this moment. Your veins simmer, your stomach twisting in rage. "I told you why-"
"I don't believe you." Harwin cuts you off. He lowers his face, so close to your own. His breath bares down on you, his lips dangerously near, yet Harwin's movements are calculated. There's no warmth in his eyes. "I think someone got angry at daddy, and decided to get back at him using me."
You freeze. You never expected him to say that, to call you out. "Harwin," you start, desperation filling you. You need to explain yourself, to make him understand.
Betrayal flashes across him, his back straightening. "Good evening, princess." He spits out your title, removing himself from you entirely.
"Harwin," you choke, reaching for him when a figure steps in front of you. You barely give the man a glance before you intend on following the knight.
"If I may, Princess?"
You ignore the man offering his hand for a dance, staring off at Harwin as he makes his way through the crowd and exits the hall. Distress floods you, your body shaking as you fight the urge to heave.
You feel sick.
"Sister, are you alright?" Rhaenyra notices, immediately coming to your side. You can't say anything, darting between her and where Harwin just left. She nods in understanding. "Go, I'll tell father you're feeling ill."
You squeeze her hand gratefully, before making your way toward a different exit, with a plan of cutting him off. You have vague ideas of where he would go. With everyone in the hall, it leaves the corridors vacant.
Picking your dress up at the knees, you pick up a run, your shoes hitting the floor lightly as you intend on making minimal noise. Blood roars in your ears, your heart pumping erratically.
You round corners, desperate to slip out of the Keep before anyone realises. Finally, you enter the gardens, stopping when you spot Harwin storming his way toward you, unaware of your presence.
You step into his view, flinching as he stops dead in his tracks. He goes to speak, but you beat him to it. "I am to speak, and you are going to listen." You raise a finger, keeping him rooted whilst you close the distance.
You stand dangerously close, your chest heaving and your hair falling to your shoulders. "Yes, I came to you because I was furious because I knew that it'd destroy my father much as he'd done to me. He asked what it would take to contain me, and I voiced a marriage of my own free will. He refused." Harwin stands rigid, his fingers flexing at his sides. "But I came to you-"
"Because you knew I'd do it. You took advantage of my affections for you, you used me!" Harwin raises his voice, his emotions controlling him. You deny it, trying to explain yourself when he talks over you. "You have no idea how I felt the next morning when my own gold cloaks told me that the King was to select your hand. You shattered me," you close your eyes at the sound of your name leaving his lips with such pain, tears building.
"Yet you have such a fucking hold on me that I stupidly offered my hand."
Your eyes fly open, meeting his own despite the darkness. The bright moon shines down, lighting the area as best as possible. "You," you drawl, comprehending his words.
"Yes, and I had to endure your father and his court's laughter."
"But your his Hands son-first born son! Heir to Harrenhal!"
He chuckles darkly. "Exactly, all I have to offer you is a half-burnt castle, courtesy of your ancestors."
You can't fathom that your father didn't even consider Harwin, that he belittled him. He has no idea what he's done.
"Harwin," he shivers. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that. What my father did is cruel,"
"A trait that runs in the family."
A tear slides down your cheek, defeat seeping in. It seems no matter what you say, Harwin refuses to hear. After a heartbeat of silence, Harwin moves to round you, pausing at your palm coming into contact with his chest. The feel of him sends a shiver down your spine.
Harwin slides your hand off as if you've burnt him, continuing on his path. An intense wave of pain surges through you, obliterating every part of you without remorse. Your chin trembles, your mind steaming at you to stop him, to fuck the protocols and policies.
You open your mouth to call out, to tell him the truth but it falls short in your throat, lodged well. You fear for what happens when you lay yourself bare, what he'll say and do.
"I'm in love with you."
Harwin completely seizes, as if he was close to falling off a cliff.
"I came to you, because deep down I knew my father would never approve, especially of us marrying." With each word Harwin approaches you, his body weightless. "So I decided that before I became caged and forced into a dull marriage, that I'd take control and choose who takes my virtue. That I'd lay with the man that I love, even if it were for a night."
Harwin stands directly behind you, his front pressing against your back, his breath on your neck. "If you're lying to me,"
You turn to face him. "You think I'd allow anyone to treat me like a whore?"
A flicker of understanding passes between you. How he manoeuvred you, how he controlled you like a puppet and fucked you against the wall without mercy.
"What do you know of being a whore?"
You tilt your head, standing on your toes to brush his cheek. "I know I'd let you do whatever you want, so long as it pleases you."
Harwin inhales sharply, his body itching for you. He murmurs your name, his voice trembling and his restraint slipping. He allows his fingers to loosely hang off your hips, drawing you closer.
Your mouth ghosts his, the temptation seeping in. You move your arms to his neck, threading your hands through his hair. Harwin groans, his hooded eyes burning through you, his control snapping.
He captures your lips, his grip on you tightening and his palms travelling every inch of your back, one of them ending up in your hair, the other on your neck. You whimper softly, Harwin using the opportunity to slip in his tongue and ravage you properly.
You're powerless against him, the lack of oxygen having its effect on your brain. You feel him move you backward, directing you through the garden until you stand flush to a wall, out of sight. Harwin found this hidden spot behind the bushes when he was a young lad, oft venturing here as he grew older to escape his reality.
He skims down the skirt of your dress, lifting it to cup your pussy. You whine, pulling apart to lean your head into the brick. Harwin smirks at your state, his palm moving in circular motions.
"Your drenched Princess. How long have you been like this?" He taunts you.
"Since I laid eyes on you," you answer airily.
Harwin hums in satisfaction, removing your undergarment and tapping the inside of your thigh to signal you step out of it. A chill shudders down your spine in realisation; Harwin plans on having you against this wall, where anyone could easily happen upon you.
"Hold this," he refers to your skirts, bunching the front into your stomach. You do as he says, biting your lip as he works to remove himself.
Harwin pauses, his cock hard and throbbing in his hand. "Tell me you want this," he rasps.
"I want you to fuck me."
A cold smile tugs at his lips, "as my princess commands."
He nudges into you, giving you a moment before he slides all the way in. You tense, having only had him months ago and nothing since. It doesn't exactly hurt, it feels uncomfortable, like he should be there but he is.
You grapple with his shoulders, hissing once he reaches the hilt, filling you with every inch of him that you can take. He shudders at your walls clenching around him.
Slowly he eases out and in, working you to a steady rhythm as to make sure he won't hurt you, that you've accustomed to him. You have.
He slams his hand onto the wall beside your head at the same time his hips rut into you. Your mouth opens in a silent groan, your forehead pressing against Harwin's as he intends to watch you.
Each thrust is intentional, his cock hitting as deep as possible and his slow but hard movements driving you crazy. Your whimpers and small sounds spur him on, a hand on your hip to help leverage him into you.
Though he's fucked you before, you still have no idea what to do, not wanting to just stand here and take his brutal pace. You remember how it felt to have your legs around his waist, how he was able to hit deep angles and completely fill you.
Lifting a leg up, you hook your ankle around his waist, Harwin instantly shifting. His hand glides down to your thigh, keeping it locked to him and his hips drive deeper into you.
You begin to feel that burn within your abdomen, brewing with each thrust, especially as he switches to almost completely vacating you before he hits home. You cry out, Harwin instantly covering your mouth.
"Quiet Princess, otherwise this ends very quickly." Harwin grunts, referring to someone potentially finding you.
You attempt to nod. He doesn't exactly trust your control, keeping his palm where it is as he continues to piston out of you, his heavy pants signalling how close he's getting.
You dig your heel into his lower back, so close to falling over the edge, desperate for him to follow. Harwin glides his hand from your thigh to your clit, paying particular attention to the bundle of nerves and the added sensation being enough for you to climax.
Your moan is muffled, Harwin's hips faltering at the feeling of you gushing around him. His own restraint slips, his cock ramming into you one last time, his seed spilling. His head falls to your shoulder, his hand slipping from your mouth to rest on the side of your head.
Your chest heaves, a slight sense of fatigue threatening to wash over you. "I hate you, with every fibre of my being." He whispers into your skin, his lips grazing your exposed collarbone.
"I know." You reply, your mouth dry as you run a caressing hand over his hair. You don't know what to do from this point onward, whether you and Harwin go your separate ways or you fight for him.
It ultimately falls on him.
"I would burn this fucking city to the ground for you," you murmur, wanting him to comprehend just how much he plagues you, how much he wields you, how nothing else matters in this lifetime but him. Hesitantly, Harwin lifts his head, unprepared for the serious glint in your eye. "Don't give up on me, not yet."
"Then don't leave me."
Your lilac eyes shine with fire and determination. "Never. I love you too much," he looks away, releasing a heavy breath as though he doesn't believe you. "Hey," you grab his face, forcing him to meet your stare. "I have loved you, since I was a girl. You, are why I hate my status. If I were a lower-born daughter, we could have wed a long time ago, without the burden of our duties."
"Show me," his words are barely audible, but you catch them. Show me.
Steadily you lower your leg from his waist, ignoring the slight irritation from your hips and sudden blood flow. His soft cock slips from you, hanging limp. Pushing down the nerves that erupt along your body, you sink to your knees, glancing up at him through your lashes.
A flicker of surprise passes over Harwin. He didn't exactly mean this. Though he'd be stupid to pass up the opportunity.
"You're the only man I'll get on my knees for," you quip, tentatively wrapping your fingers around his cock.
Harwin hisses at the contact, his hand bracing himself against the wall. You allow instinct to take over, cautiously pumping him, studying Harwin's reactions. His lips part, his breath becoming heavy with each glide, his cock hardening under your touch.
"Am I doing it right?" You ask nervously, unsure of what else you could be doing to him.
"Princess," he grits, his fingers curling into a fist above you. "You keep that up and I won't be able to last."
Your cheeks flare at his comment, your thumb brushing over his inflamed head. Harwin grunts under your ministrations, his other hand flexing as he withholds the urge to grip your hair.
"Can you teach me, how to use my mouth?"
Harwin's eyes fly open, instantly finding your own. "You don't have to, what your doing is just fine."
"But I want to," you pause your movements, looking up at him expectantly. "Either teach me or I'll learn myself."
His eyebrows rise to his hairline. "You are a determined thing, aren't you?" You scowl, gently tightening your grip on him. "Alright alright," he repeats, his body stiffening. "Put it in, and for the love of the seven, don't use your teeth."
A wicked grin spreads across your face, setting Harwin on edge as you take him into your mouth, inwardly cringing for a moment. Harwin shudders, his hip's reflexively jutting forward.
"Just," he pants, at the mere feeling of his cock inhabiting your mouth. "Move like you were before, and use your tongue."
Your brows furrow slightly, hesitantly gliding along his cock and back down, dragging your tongue on his underside. He groans, his hand coming to your hair and threading it. How he so desperately wishes to face fuck you, but he won't. Not until you're his.
You bob your head, following Harwin's instructions as he guides you to bring him to a climax, his leverage on your head allowing him to gingerly rut his hips into you. "Good girl," he murmurs, his eyes closing in pleasure.
An idea flickers, your tongue swirling around his swollen head and your hand wrapping around the base of him, a small smirk threatening to spread as Harwin stammers.
You feel powerful, knowing that your mere mouth can bring Harwin to this state, his moral restraint close to breaking like the chains kept around your dragon.
Harwin calls your name, his cock twitching in your mouth. He's close, dangerously close and he fears that if you don't stop, he won't pull out in time. You remember how he felt you near your climax the night he disappeared between your thighs, sucking gently on your clit to bring you over.
You wonder if the same applies to him.
You move to his tip, gently sucking. Harwin cries out at the unexpected sensation, forcing his hips forward and ultimately thrusting his cock further into your mouth as he shatters.
You squeak, his seed filling your mouth and slipping down your throat. You can't help but cringe at the taste, pulling off him to wipe your mouth.
Slowly raising, you observe Harwin's state, as he comes down from his high. He releases a heavy breath, his senses clearing. A sense of pride runs through you, for being able to please him as he did to you.
Being with a man, is not at all what the Septas told you.
Harwin grabs the underside of your jaw, pulling you up to him. You fist his jacket, a small moan escaping you when his tongue slips in. He doesn't care that he can taste himself.
He steals your breath, your lungs aching and that familiar burn searing through your abdomen. He reluctantly pulls back, his forehead leaning on yours, his lips feathering you, refusing to completely stop.
"Harwin," you whisper, your hands sliding to his neck, playing aimlessly with his loose curls. "What are our next moves?"
"Hmm?" He hums absentmindedly, too lost in the feeling of your cheek against his. He nuzzles you, an act of intimacy that even fucking you couldn't compare to.
You chuckle, deciding to leave it and enjoy the moment, as much as the two of you should plan out the next steps.
"You're mine," he says lowly, his gravelly voice sending chills down your spine. "And I'm yours."
You nod, a smile gracing your lips. "You've ruined me for anyone else."
Tag List: @iwillboilyourteeth @sageshorrorblog @gibbsgirl7 @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @missusnora @jdm-traash @happynerdtale @westeros-needs-me @killthedarkthoughts @stardustdragon9 @my-watch-begins @ietss @znanaworm @fulla02
#ser harwin x reader#harwin strong smut#harwin strong x reader#hotd#ser harwin strong#ryan corr#harwin strong imagine
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𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 | 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞.
⊹ fandom house of the dragon
⊹ pairing ser harwin strong x reader
⊹ synopsis when the fight breaks out, ser harwin strong decides to get the most important lady in the room to safety
⊹ tags some sexual tension—sexual fluff is the term i'd use it; "who did this to you?" trope + wound bandaging; unexpected marriage proposal in the end because i can't control where my stories go
⊹ warnings fighting, hotd spoiler for 1.05
⊹ word count 1305
The crowd thickens on the dance floor. You are sitting off to the side, on your third cup of wine, watching with amusement as your best friend gets in a heated discussion with Daemon in the middle of the room for the entire crowd to watch. As interested as you are as to what will happen between them, you take a sip and divert your eyes away so if someone were to interrogate you, you’d be able to feign cluelessness.
Your eyes sweep over the room, taking in the attendees. There’s King Viserys, who’s aggressively moving his knife back and forth in a cutting motion except he’s missing the actual chicken because he’s too absorbed watching with scandalised eyes at his brother and daughter.
Then there’s Queen Alicent, who’s also watching, but more subtly. She’s gotten better at concealing her emotions, and much better at learning the subtle ways of the court. You’ll have to warn Rhaenyra about her old friend.
But like every time the two of you are in the same room together, your eyes are eventually drawn to him. Unsurprisingly, he’s already staring at you. Ser Harwin Strong stands across the room with someone talking to him, but it’s clear he’s no longer interested in them. You smile at him, and he bows his head in greeting. His eyes shamelessly rake you up and down, and to tease and appease his appetite which you know all too well, you lean forwards slightly so your dress gives him a much nicer view. You grin at his smile.
That is the crux of your relationship. Longing glances from across the room, a moment of flirtation that doesn’t lead everywhere. For now, it’s fun. Sneaking around, teasing each other in public, the possibilities of what could be existing in the inch of space between your lips when you have your back against the wall and his chest pressed against yours, never pushing further, but not pulling away. You’re both satisfied with it for now. But how long will it last before it’s no longer enough and you both must make the decision of either being together or forever apart?
A scream rises above the crowd, tearing your attention from him. Duty and loyalty to the princess takes over your body, and you stand in search for Rhaenyra immediately. You catch sight of her white hair and see as the thick crowd, now panicked, shove the princess aside.
“Rhaenyra!” you shout out to her, but no one hears you.
No one except for ser Harwin, who despite being so far from you and on the other side of the panicking crowd, sees you grab the knife you had been cutting your chicken with and head determinedly into the crowd to defend your friend. As frustrated he is by you endangering yourself, he can’t help but chuckle at the sight of your stubbornness, loyalty, and bravery. But worry overtakes him as you disappear into the throng of bodies, gone from his view.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his father motion for him to grab the princess. Harwin stretches his head to the left before shoving aside the person in front of him, then the person behind them and every else who stands in his way. He occasionally punches someone if they won’t move. As the crowd gets even thicker, he begins to use his body to barrel his way through. He does pretty much anything that needs to be done until he catches a glimpse of you again, now having made it to the princess’ side. Blood drips down your knife. The sleeve on your pretty blue dress is ripped, and he sees blood stains around it.
You turn and your eyes meet, as if you could just feel his presence when he came near enough.
“Ser Harwin,” you gasp out. “Take the princess to safety—OH!”
The floor disappears from under your feet.
You scream out as his large hands grasp your waist, and with barely a grunt, hoist you over his very broad shoulders. The heat from his hands is familiar, the grip on your waist drawing memories from two nights before, but in this moment, all you feel is anger and disbelief as you are carried away from Rhaenyra who is picked up in a similar position by another member of the city watch.
“Put me down, ser Harwin!” you shout. You slam your fists against his back, not that he’d feel it.
“Stop moving, my lady,” he says gruffly.
You twist around so you can see a glimpse of where you’re going. One hand is still wrapped around your legs to keep you from falling. His other hand is shoving people aside to clear a way.
“PUT ME DOWN!” You try to kick, but his grip tightens.
Then he slaps your ass.
“I said, stop moving!”
Realizing that this isn’t a fight you’re going to win, you huff and stay still as he fights through the rest of the room. Only out in the hall where it’s silent, empty, and dark, does he bend down to put you gently on the ground.
You slap his chest. “You were supposed to get the princess to safety!”
“I was getting my lady to safety first,” he says unabashedly.
“You can’t put me above Rhaenyra!”
“Can’t I?”
Heat floods your cheeks at his words. You look down and see that his hands are still gripping your waist, as if he’s still keeping you safe. Silence passes between you, only the sounds of his and yours heavy breathing filling the air. Gradually, your anger ebbs away, but still his grip doesn’t loosen.
“You can let go of me now, ser Harwin,” you say softly, breaking the silence.
He doesn’t. He steps forward, forcing you take a step backward. Forwards, back, forwards, back, your eyes never looking away from his until your back hits the wall. He takes a step forward. Then another. He’s much taller than you, and much broader. His entire presence looms over you, but you don’t feel terrified or small. If anything, you only feel protected. Secure.
Loved.
He reaches for his shirt and tears a strip from the bottom. You don’t protest as he dabs the blood on your arm before wrapping it over the wound. When he’s done, he bends down to press a kiss against it.
“Does it hurt?” he asks softly.
You shake your head. The scalding touch of him being so close to you yet not doing anything is more unbearable than the knife that cut you.
“Who did it?”
“Harwin.”
“People get hurt from fights all the time. No one will know it was intentional.”
You can’t stop the chuckle from escaping. He smiles softly at you and moves even closer so his forehead is resting against yours, his breath warm over your lips.
“You can’t do that again,” he says.
You look at him challengingly. “Can’t I?”
“No, you can’t. Stop risking yourself.”
“Rhaenyra is my friend, and I have a feeling that things are only going to get worse from here. I have to stay by her side and protect her.”
He sighs, and you know he understands that he can’t ask you to forsake your friendship with her. “Then I will stand by your side and protect you,” he says instead.
You raise your brows. “Oh, will you?”
“Enough of this hiding around and being on opposite ends of the room. I want to be by your side at all times.”
“And how will you do that, ser Harwin?”
He takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to the inside of your palm. “Marry me,” he says, and you feel everything in you stop until he is all you can see and think and feel.
“Marry me and be mine.”
𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗍𝖽? 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗂𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗄 𝗌𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗌, 𝗇𝗈. 𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗍𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗑 + 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗆 𝗂 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗍𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌? 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒.
𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽. 𝗂'𝗏𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾𝖽 (𝗋𝗂𝗉 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗆 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇). 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾
╰┈➤ 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘧!
#harwin strong x reader#harwin strong imagine#ser harwin strong imagine#ser harwin strong#ser harwin strong fanfic#ser harwin strong x reader#house of the dragon imagine#hotd imagine
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Since you mentioned Harwin… (smut pleek)
Princess | Harwin Strong
i had no idea what you wanted other than *harwin* so i hope you like this!! (tho the title sucks so bad but i’m too lazy to think of a better one)
warnings: smut, 18+, mentions of loss of virginity?, bits of fluff ig, fem!reader (?) x harwin but other than that there’s no specifications!
idk how to do this warning shit ngl. also my first time writing smut and you didn’t really specify so… also it’s not proof read at all so read at your own risk
summary: the morning after ser harwin breakbones carries his princess to safety and has his way with her
word count: 1.2k (ish)
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Whispers of dawn kissed her cheeks, bursts of gold rallying against the dark of her closed eyes, and the Princess smiled against the softness of her pillow as she registered the warm weight slung over her bare hips.
Harwin’s calloused hand was splayed against her stomach, holding her close throughout the night and break of day. Her smile grew wider as he grumbled unintelligibly and his grip tightened. She could only spare half a thought for her dear sister - poor Rhaenyra stuck with a heartbroken Laenor on her wedding night - as she felt her new found lover stir.
“Good morning, Princess.”
His voice, deep and still cloaked in sleep, was laced with a sense of smug satisfaction she would have found insufferable on anyone else. Luckily for Ser Harwin Strong, she found him far too endearing for her own good. “Good morning, Ser.”
She could feel his lazy grin against her shoulder as he peppered gentle kisses along her smooth skin. “So proper,” he teased as his kisses reached the slope of her neck.
“I’m a Princess,” she sniffed, tilting her head.
He smirked and bit her neck lightly, “A dirty Princess, what would your father think?”
Holding in her whimper, the Princess arched a brow despite knowing he couldn’t possibly see it. “I’d rather not think of my father at all, thank you.”
Harwin hummed as he nuzzled her jawline. His heated breath made her shiver and his grin widened. Last night felt like a dream - one he’d had many, many times over the past few moons. A dream that was often accompanied by his hand in his trousers after. King Viserys would have his head on a spike if he ever found out just what the knight had done to his precious daughter, but Harwin couldn’t find it in him to care much. He had the most beautiful woman in Westeros in his arms and he wasn’t about to let any man - King or not - stop him from relishing this moment.
She turned to face him and his heart stuttered at the softness in her eyes as she smiled. No one had looked at him like that before, certainly not a Princess.
“What?”
His own smile turned just as soft. “You’re beautiful.”
She snorted lightly and he had to stop himself from looking like a complete idiot and confessing his love and adoration at the sound. “Rhaenyra is the Realm’s Delight.”
He couldn’t help himself; he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead and grasped her chin delicately in his large hand. Gods when had he last been this gentle with anyone? She seemed so small compared to him - although most people were small to him - and his chest felt tight in the best possible way as he looked at her. “You are the most breathtaking woman I have ever seen.”
A blush crept up her neck and Harwin smiled smugly at the sight. She had been so confident the night prior, seeing her uncharacteristic shyness before him now made his cock stiffen and, judging by her deepening flush, she could feel it too. “You’re the first man I’ve lain with,” she admitted.
He didn’t tell her that he hoped he’d be the only man she’d ever lie with. Instead he opted for the safer choice, “Well one union had to be consummated, Gods knows your sister’s wasn’t.”
She gasped indignantly and slapped his chest. “Ser Harwin!”
Clasping her hand to his chest, he leaned over. “Yes, Princess?” He was lying fully on top of her now and he felt his pride swell as her eyes flickered to his lips.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I figured that having fucked the King’s daughter, a few jests on his heir’s behalf couldn’t make things much worse.” He grinned as she gaped up at him and took the opportunity to finally kiss her lips again.
She moaned quietly as she parted her lips for his tongue. Harwin made her feel a thousand things at once. She couldn’t tell if she was excited or scared or shy or offended anymore, all she knew for certain was the very obvious effect he had on her body.
The Princess had resigned herself to admiring the knight from afar until he had carried her to her rooms during the commotion at Rhaenyra’s wedding. Having him in her rooms after saving her like that… how was she meant to resist him?
She was no damsel in need of saving like in one of the stories her mother had told her as a child, but being tossed over his strong shoulder after he had immediately stepped into the fray to save her set off the butterflies in her stomach.
It was wrong. Her father would lose his mind if he found out, especially after the recent rumours of her sister’s indiscretions. But she couldn’t ignore the thought that he might consent to a match between them and her groan as Harwin slipped his hand between her thighs was far louder than she had expected.
“You’re so wet for me, Princess.”
She groaned again and shut her eyes, unable to stop herself from grinding against the palm of his hand as he fucked her with his fingers. Harwin didn’t bother to disguise his own groan as he watched his fingers disappear into her over and over.
“Look at me.”
It took an embarrassing amount of effort for her eyes to open and find his. His intense stare alone almost pushed her over the edge.
“You’re going to look at me while you come undone on my fingers, Princess.”
She couldn’t hold back her whimper. “Yes,” she breathed.
Harwin grinned at her. “Good girl.” He added a third finger and watched as she struggled to keep her orgasm at bay. Gods she was stunning: legs spread wide just for him, hair wild against her pillow and her chest flushed.
“Harwin.”
“Princess?”
She could barely form a sentence. “Please.”
“Use your words.”
A brilliant shade of pink covered her cheeks. She’d never felt so submissive in her life. She was a Princess, she wasn’t meant to take orders from those beneath her, and yet here she was acting like a whore - on the verge of begging - for a mere knight. Gods she loved it. “I can feel it, please.”
“Such a good Princess,” Harwin murmured as his fingers found her clitoris. Her moans were so loud he almost feared the entirety of the Red Keep would hear but he didn’t stop and he didn’t dare tell her to be quiet. “Let go for me.”
He felt her shudder around his digits and he stared, transfixed, at the way her thighs shook and her bosom heaved. Her moans gradually turned to soft whimpers and Harwin made sure she watched as he licked his fingers clean. She tasted even better than she had last night.
It took a few minutes for his Princess to catch her shaky breath and Harwin swallowed roughly as he studied the glisten of sweat on her brow. “I suppose I ought to do the honourable thing now.”
The Princess looked at him in confusion, mind still clouded with pleasure. “Honourable thing?”
He couldn’t stop himself this time. “I’m going to love you, wed you and fuck you for the rest of your life, Princess.”
#house of the dragon#harwin strong#ser harwin#harwin#harwin strong x reader#harwin x reader#rhaenyra targaryen#harwin strong smut#harwin smut#ser harwin x reader#house of the dragon imagine#hotd#harwin strong imagine#harwin imagine#smut#game of thrones#asoiaf#harwin breakbones strong#harwin breakbones#ser harwin breakbones#ser harwin strong#ser harwin strong x reader#ser harwin strong smut#ser harwin strong imagine#harwin breakbones imagine#harwin breakbones x reader#hotd season 1#targaryen reader#house targaryen#targaryen
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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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— THE COMMANDER’S tryst ʾ ⋆
summary ; requested by anon.
“can you write some targaryen!princess getting married to harwin strong? maybe a younger sister to rhaenyra and maybe because she’s the second child to the king she’s put into the background but harwin is just utterly devoted to her.”
pairing ; targaryen!reader x pre-established!harwin strong
notes ; when i tell you i screamed when i saw this in my inbox …. devoted harwin is my weakness,, i just know he’s a giver.
“my princess,” a baritone voice slices the silence that’s settled in the air. you know his voice all too well and the mere title sends a warm chill down your spine, stopping you in your tracks.
you spin on your heel with practiced movement, silver wisps of hair dancing in the air and gown flowing with life. you’re greeted by a pair of warm, round eyes and brown tussles of hair that you have both grown too fond of. he’s wearing the garments of a courtly lord; clothes of leather topped with a cape and adorned with house strong blue. it’s strange to see him in this attire, but it’s a lovely sight indeed.
“ser harwin,” you greet, hands moving behind your back as the pair of you close the gap between each other. once you are close enough, “to what do i owe the pleasure?”
he takes a moment to drink in your appearance; famous silver hair in neat plaits and fashioned into a popular southern hairstyle that he had grown to like, a red dress with wide sleeves, and gold jewelry to match your skin. he sucks in a quiet breath – gods, how beautiful you looked.
he surveys the dim-lit hallway, carefully examining if there were any one to see or hear what was about to transpire. he suddenly grasps your arm with his gloved hand and pulls you into the nearby room. you don’t have enough time to react, but you feel the press of your back against a wooden door and soft, warm lips against your own.
you melt into the kiss and return it happily, a sigh falling from your mouth when you part. although it’s short lived, you can’t help but hold on to the lingering buzz of ecstasy on your lips. your eyes flutter open and notice how visibly dark it is, though, you can make the faint outline of ser harwin’s face. you raise a hand and gently caress his cheek; he responds by closing his eyes and leaning into your touch.
“i’ve missed you,” he starts, opening his eyes after a moment as he holds the wrist of the hand that’s touching his cheek. he moves your hand just enough to give the palm a kiss. his hands move to your own face, gently moving your hair behind your shoulders. he leans in and kisses your forehead, inhaling the sweet scent of perfume that lingered in the air around you. ser harwin was obsessed. “i’m sorry that i haven’t had the time to see you,” he pauses, “it was never the right moment.”
“and i’ve missed you,” you respond, eyes fluttering as you stare up at the knight in front of you once he pulls away. a smile reaches his eyes, one that you can’t help but return. “it’s alright, i thought that would’ve been the problem. but, we’re here now, aren’t we?”
you move to your tippytoes, hands against harwin’s chest for support as you lean up to kiss his cheek. your hand grazes against the clothing, making a beeline for his shoulders. your hands find his hair and tug at the curls with refined gentleness.
ser harwin hums, “not here, my love. i have some news i’d like to share.” this gains your interest, so you halt your advances and retreat, returning to lean against the door. you relax and your hands find the strap of his scabbard, tugging at it playfully.
“and that is?”
the knight clears his throat and moves away from you, too distracted by the small advancements you were making. he thinks for a moment, deciding how he would share the conversation he had with his lord father, lyonel strong. he thought that the outcome was a great idea, but was nervous to hear your response. he had hoped your devotion would match his.
“my father has suggested that i take a wife, seeing as i will inherit harrenhal someday. i agreed, and i’ve asked for you. he will meet with the king and ask for our betrothal.”
the words that fall from his lips churn your belly into a euphoric bliss, a long-awaited pleasantry that you would both now be able to enjoy. to hold hands in public, to stop the secret meetings (although they were an adrenaline rush and you loved the dirtiness of it), and to officially be his and him yours. you didn’t care for castles, being royalty, or the political aspect of it – you weren’t rhaenyra, thankfully, and was subjugated to more lenient terms of being a targaryen princess.
you can’t help but laugh in joy. your hands meet together at your mouth, your lips parted in awe as you try to make full sense of the situation. you were so sure your father would say yes. ser harwin was a respectable man, handsome, and strong, with a reputation as a knight. although he did have the ruins of harrenhal, you were sure that together you could make it home. you return from your thoughts when you see ser harwin cross the room in a few strides and kneel to the floor in front of you.
“it’s always been you,” he breathes, hands cupping your hips. he looks up, eyes wide with hope, love, and adoration. this was what you loved about him. the devotion, the unwavering loyalty – the never ending hope that this would turn out into something more than a midnight tryst. harwin feels as if he could cough out his stomach, though, he’d do that and so much more if it meant he had the privilege of calling you his lady-wife.
a shiver runs through ser harwin, despite the warmth that radiated between the two of you. he’s overjoyed at the position reaction you had given him, and the onslaught of emotions leaves him sick to his stomach. he exhales slowly to quell the feeling before rising to his feet.
“before the new moon rises, we shall be husband and wife.”
and he was right.
within the fortnight, lyonel strong remained faithful to his son and visited the king in his private quarters. the hand had given the king his proposition; his son, ser harwin, married to his daughter, the younger targaryen princess. your father didn’t let a moment pass before he had said yes. he, if not everyone, had noticed the longing gaze and lingering touches that mingled between you and ser harwin, the bare signs of obvious and mutual attraction was evident and reminded him of himself and his late wife, queen aemma.
if rhaenyra couldn’t find happiness within the men in the realm, then perhaps you shall.
a royal wedding was no easy event to miss – the festivities lasted for almost fortnight, and the bells of king’s landing had rung for what seems like an entirety of the month.
the actual wedding was stunning, an event taken out from the writings of fairytales. a mixture of reds, blues, and gold had adorned every tapestry that was strung along the streets. great houses from across the southern plains, and even some from the northern realm, had gathered to watch the commencement of yourself and ser harwin. your dress was a beautiful sight – a vibrant blue gown adorned with trinkets and jewelries. lace detailing gave the dress more depth and the house sigils of house targaryen and house strong were embroidered on your shoulders. a dark, free-flowing cape had followed your figure as you were walked down the aisle.
and in front of a weirwood tree and maester, as house strong had followed the faith of the seven, was your marriage to ser harwin made.
the road to harrenhal was sweet and short, a journey that didn’t even last a fortnight. though in some ruin, the castle of harrenhal was majestic with towering walls that seemed to touch the sky. blackened stone shone fierce against the strength of the sun and scaffolds lined the castle walls. ser harwin had mentioned that him and his father were overseeing a project to restore the castle to a shadow of its former glory. this was now your home.
as your party enters, the people of harrenhal had make quick work to tidy the castle and string festivities up on the walls. they were excited to greet the future lord and lady of their province and they made sure to voice their support of your marriage. when you stopped at the steps to the heart of the castle, stewards seem to come out from the shadow and aid you – keeping your horse still and bringing a small step stool to aid your descent from your horse.
ser harwin takes your hand and climbs the steps with you, his other hand carefully rubbing your back. the knight is more than excited to have you here – here in the place that he and his family had called theirs.
“you know,” he says under his breath, the air fanning the side of you cheek to show how close he is. you turn your head and look at him. you can’t help but notice the obvious desire and mischief that seemed to bring his warm eyes to life. “if they don’t know your name now, they will after tonight.”
the mere sentence is enough to make your knees weak and cause a blush to highlight the fullness of your cheeks. ser harwin was everything more of an affectionate lover. he knew everything and more on how to make your toes curl and turn your soft moans of delight into a cry of pleasure.
“ser harwin,” you warn, a grin causing your lips to part to reveal your teeth. crows feet gathers at the corners of his eyes and harwin is far from being accustomed to the beauty of your face. he reaches behind your head and pulls a pin or two out, causing the curls of your once intricate hairstyle of twists and turns to turn into nothing more than a braid followed by a wave of white. he decides that he likes your hair this way the most.
“lady-wife,” he counters back, pressing into you close before placing a delicate, yet passionate kiss on to your lips. his arm wraps around you and gives you stability against his weight. passion turns to desire and his wandering hand starts to become noticeable. you pull away despite the tingling sensation that slowly started to develop.
“husband, i don’t think it’s appropriate to subjugate your people to watch us in these halls.” the new use of husband doesn’t fail to make you giddy.
harwin shakes his head, tufts of hair bouncing as kisses your cheek, then your jaw, “yes, here.” once he notices that his affections aren’t being returned, he smiles innocently at the expression on your face. “our people,” he corrects.
his hand slides into yours and he leads you to the fine chambers. he pushes the door open and you both are greeted by royal chests that held your personal belongings and gifts for your marriage. harwin is quick to reach the bed and he turns with a playful grin on his lips.
“shall we?”
your ever devoted husband kept his promise. from that night, every steward and castle-worker made sure to call you ‘lady strong’ and ‘princess’, as their lord’s son had that night.
#harwin strong x reader#harwin x reader#harwin strong imagine#harwin strong fanfic#ser harwin x reader#hotd x reader#hotd fic#hotd imagine#*mine: writing
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I am not an object | Part one.
Part Two
• Daemon Targaryen x Reader
Summary : Daemon broke your heart more than once, will you forgive him when he tries to get you back ?
Warning(s) : Daemon is a dick, angst, fight, jealousy, language, mention of Harwin.
You couldn't believe it.
He had come back. Prince Daemon was back at the castle, you didn't know if your heart could survive another heartache. When Alicent told you this news you had to sit down to avoid falling backwards.
Concerned, the queen sat down at your side. "Y/n, are you okay ?" Your throat tightened and you nodded reassuringly, unable to speak.
If twenty years ago you had been told that Alicent would become your rock here, you would not have believed it.
Indeed, during your childhood, you were not the best friends in the world. The only thing you had in common was being Rhaenyra's Maids and friends.
It was while becoming friends with the princess that you met Daemon.
The first time you had seen him was during a meal given in honor of the future son of the king, he had not even cast a single glance in your direction, but who cares, you were fifteen years and for the first time you had felt new feelings towards the prince.
Your first broken heart was when you learned from Rhaenyra that he was going to marry a whore.
This woman didn't love him, how could he marry her ?
Then this (love) story didn't work, so he came back to his family, and it was from that moment that things changed between you since the evening of his return, after a few drinks, he insisted on sharing with you, he ended up taking your virginity, and these activities became commonplace since every time he wanted to relax, he came to see you, fucked you and left.
Then there was Laena, and he stopped coming to see you, he wasn't even looking at you anymore, he just left.
Years passed, and as you recovered from the behing hole Daemon had left in your heart, it was Rhaenyra who stabbed you. She stopped talking to you, leaving you alone, at least until Alicent insisted on hiring you as a companion, but over time you became like sisters.
As you gradually regained control of your life and your emotions, Laena died. And the same routine returned. Daemon came back, he cried on your shoulder, making you feel guilty, he fucked you again until he found interest in Rhaenyra and dumped you again, leaving Alicent to manage with a broken friend.
Some time passed and you managed to rebuild yourself, until Rhaenyra returned to live in the castle with her sons and... Daemon.
That's why you find yourself sitting around the table where the Targaryen family and Hightower were, the tension was palpable but for the good of the king, the two parties said nothing.
You kept a neutral face as Alicent tried to talk you out of your mind, but you felt Daemon's piercing gaze on you, there was no way you were giving him satisfaction and looking at him.
Alicent had to leave to take care of the king, leaving the place next to you empty, and Daemon wasted no time in coming to occupy it.
"Lady Y/n."
His voice was low and smooth, he used to use that voice when he wanted to end up between your thighs.
You took a big sip of wine to give yourself courage and without looking him in the eye you greeted him.
"Prince Daemon, it's good to see you again. I'm sorry but I'm not feeling very well, it's better that I go back to my room. Please excuse me."
You got up and all eyes were on you, something you hated, you sneaked in politely smiling at the guests, once out of the room you let out a breath of relief and went towards your room .
As you walked through the darkness, footsteps were heard behind you, as you were afraid it was Daemon, you were relieved to hear the voice of your protector, Ser Harwin Strong.
"Lady Y/n, are you feeling okay ?"
You smiled sincerely at him and sighed. "I'm just a little tired Ser Harwin."
The knight looked around and once assured that there was no one, he approached you slightly. "Tell me the truth my lady please."
You took a deep breath. "I am scared." You admitted, your lip trembling.
Harwin grabbed your face in his hands and with the back of his thumb he wiped away the tears that were falling.
“Tell me what you’re afraid of.”
"I know I won't be able to resist him, and I'm afraid he'll rip my heart out again."
Harwin Strong was, along with Alicent, the only person who knew about you and Daemon. He was assigned to you as a protector by the queen when she married the king, so he saw the damage the prince had done to you.
One thing you didn't know was that he dreamed of smashing Daemon's face against a wall every time he saw you crying because of him.
"Listen to me Lady Y/n, you are the fiercest woman I know besides being the kindest, smartest, sweetest and most beautiful. And cut out my tongue for what I'm about to say, Prince Daemon only thinks with his dick, he doesn't deserve you to look at him, you are so much better than him, don't let him have a hold on you."
His words made you blush, but they also gave you the strength needed to face Daemon, and the next day when the prince requested an audience with you, you accepted, along with Ser Harwin of course.
Daemon was surprised that you didn't ask your protector to leave, and even though it bothered him, he swallowed his anger and invited you to sit at the table in the garden.
"Lady Y/n, I am delighted that you have accepted my invitation. It is truly a pleasure to be in your company. I would like that said, to discuss a private matter with you, you might ask Ser Harwin to leave so that-"
"No."
Daemon was surprised by your tone.
"Excuse me ?"
"I won't ask Ser Harwin to leave, if you have anything you want to talk to me about you can do it in front of him."
The prince blinked, looking between you and Harwin. "I don't think he wants to hear what I have to say."
You repositioned yourself on the chair to have an upright and sure posture, then you crossed your arms on your chest.
"I believe I know what you wish to speak to me about my prince and I can assure you that Ser Harwin is aware of what is bothering you."
Having had enough of beating around the bush, Daemon leaned on the stone table. "Fine. Why are you avoiding me ?"
You couldn't help laughing. Asshole.
"Are you serious ?"
He was looking at you like "In your opinion ?"
You looked at Harwin for a moment, and his encouraging words from yesterday began to echo in your head, suddenly a rush of adrelanin invaded you, you turned your attention back to the prince and you took a deep breath before speaking as calmly as possible.
"I am not avoiding you my prince, I am only staying in my place. I am not one of your servants or even your whore." Harwin pursed his lip to keep from smiling with pride. Daemon, in the other hand, was speechless.
"All these years you have only used me when you needed it and then threw me away like you throw leftovers at dogs. And once again you come back to me, why ? Either because the princess does not satisfy you, or out of pride, for years I was stupid enough to believe in you and imagine things, but that time is over."
You got up slowly and slightly put your dress back in place before adding. "Contrary to what you think my prince, I am not an object. Now please excuse me but this meeting is over."
As you turned your back on Daemon, he called out to you. “You seem to forget something.”
You turned to face him. "What ?"
He was still sitting, he had something evil in his eyes. “I always get what I want.”
Even though he scared you, you decided not to show him. "Not this time my prince.
As you walked back, Daemon and Harwin looked at each other.
The prince was clearly mad and had a look of
We'll see.
As for Ser Harwin, he had an expression of pride.
That’s my girl.
#house of the dragon#hotd imagine#hotd x you#hotd x y/n#hotd x reader#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen x female reader#daemon targaryen x reader#ser harwin strong#ser harwin x reader#harwin strong
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Another Man
Summary: Harwin discovers that there is another man in your life.
part 2 of this.
part 3
I'm just going to say that I don't regret anything and that I have many ideas to continue writing to this MC and her lovers 🥰💖
comments, reblogs and likes are always appreciated 🥰💖
Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.
Harwin misses you. He misses your smiles, your kisses, your hugs, he misses how you took care of him every time he came back hurt or tired of his guards, he misses the talks until dawn, he misses waking up by your side.
Since Jacaerys's birth, the only thing he received from you was silent treatment and hateful looks every time they were alone. You had kicked him out of your chambers so he now slept alone but from time to time you made him spend the night with you just so as not to arouse more suspicion at court.
The first time you called him Harwin he had felt so hopeful thinking that your love for him was great enough to forgive him and give him another chance. He believed that your invitation to your chambers was the first step in making things right. He was disappointed and heartbroken when you didn't even greet him when he entered your chambers, all you told him, or rather ordered him, was that he come to your quarters every ten days. Before you sleep you always put pillows between the two of you. Sometimes he took advantage of your deep sleep to move the pillows and hug you, pretending that everything was fine between the two of you and that you still loved him.
Today marks ten days since he last came to your chambers. Despite your silent treatment, he was eager to go, it always calmed him down to see you sleep and he could hug you without you wanting to kill him, so he didn't even bother to knock on the door and went directly to your chambers. His anxiety turned into concern when he saw that the maester was with you.
"What happened?" he came quickly to your side. He didn't see that you had any wounds or cuts or that you were bleeding so he hoped that whatever your ailment was it wasn't something serious.
"Nothing to worry about, Lord Strong, I was just bringing your wife some tea to calm her nausea."
"Nausea? Are you sick?"
"Thank you for your help, maester" you nodded and waited for him to leave to answer your husband "I'm pregnant"
Harwin felt as if you had plunged a knife into his heart. Is that how you felt when you looked at Jaceaerys and realized that it was his son? Did you feel this pain when he confessed to you that he loves Rhaenyra too? He deserved to feel the same pain he caused you. He had been the first to break your heart by falling in love with the princess and getting into her bed. He was the one who ruined your marriage and lost your trust and love. He had no right to feel angry or betrayed. He had only caused all of this. If he had only been brave enough to talk to you earlier about his feelings for Rhaenyra, if only he had been honest with you, maybe they would have come to some kind of agreement, and maybe things would be better than they are now. Maybe he wouldn't have lost you.
You had already told him that he had lost you but he acted as if he had never heard those words and he hope that by some miracle you will forgive him. Now that you were carrying another man's child, he could see that you were serious.
Harwin wanted to ask you who you slept with and if you loved your new lover but he felt he had no right to know, but he didn't want to know either, he couldn't bear to hear that your heart now belonged to someone else. He preferred to believe that you had only let another man into your bed in revenge, that this was all about hurting him the same way he hurt you, and that there was no feeling involved.
"You can stop coming when I'm five months pregnant." You informed him as if he were a worker that you won't need his services anymore "If someone asks, I'll just say that the maester recommended we not share a bed until the baby is born" you took the cup of tea and walked away from him.
That night Harwin didn't move the pillows nor did he hug you while you slept. He couldn't even bear to stay in your bed all night and know that someone else was in the same place as him, he couldn't stop thinking about scenarios of you with your unknown lover.
•••••
The guard saw you and instantly turned away from the door knowing that the queen was already waiting for you. It wasn't a secret that you spent most of your time with her and her children.
"Sorry for being late" you apologized entering the room and interrupting the conversation between Larys and Alicent, first you approached her to give her a short kiss, you smiled at her when you saw her blush and then you went to kiss Larys "Your son doesn't wanted to get away from Sunfyre so it took me longer than expected to take him to his lessons with the maester," you said as you sat between the two of them, the affection you had for the prince in your voice.
“About Sunfyre…
You knew that tone in Alicent, she was worried and you knew why, you three had already had this conversation more than once. Ever since she found out you were pregnant she didn't want you to spend time in Dragon's Pit. She was afraid that one day one of the guards would come to tell her that one of those beasts had attacked you. You got tired of repeating to her that this would not happen.
You looked at Larys. You could tell from the boredom on his face that they were also talking about it before you got there.
“Aegon has to learn to care for and bond with his dragon. If his father doesn't bother to teach her then someone has to do it” you interrupted her and began to cut your meat with more force than necessary. Every time you think of Viserys you feel anger for the little attention she gave to her children but of course, he had time and attention for Rhaenyra's bastard. "A dragon would never harm its rider"
"But what about you? You are not its rider. It is dangerous. Especially in your condition” Alicent looked at you anguished. She didn't want anything to happen to you. King's Landing without you would be hell. You are the person she trusts the most. It hadn't been Alicent's intention to cling to you. But you're the only person who really cares for her, for Alicent Hightower, and not for the queen.
It all started when her engagement to Viserys was announced, Rhaenyra began to hate her and pushed her away. She thought you would support the princess and do the same. She was surprised that you stayed by her side and listened to her, you didn't call her a liar when she told you that she only did what her father ordered, instead you guiltily confessed that you were also in her position and that you believed that Viserys didn't choose you because you admitted to him that you were in love with Harwin Strong.
Alicent looked so lonely and sad without Rhaenyra. You didn't know if it was the guilt you carried thinking you should be taking Alicent's place but you started spending time with her. The first time you found her in the weirwood you pretended it was a coincidence, the second time you admitted you were looking for her on purpose, after the third time it became a routine to meet there at the same time. One day Alicent woke up and the first thing she thought about was that she longed for the time to come so she could see you. Every time she was with you she felt calm, she wasn't nervous thinking about what role she should be playing or thinking if she said the wrong thing she would push you away.
"Sunfyre won't do anything to me unless I hurt Aegon, which I never will" you took the queen's hand and gave it a squeeze "So you have nothing to worry about" you kissed her knuckles. "Now can we continue eating or is there something else to discuss?”
"Harwin was seen sneaking into the princess's chambers again," Larys informed you, and he carefully appraised you looking for any trace of sadness or disappointment in your eyes. He was satisfied to find none of it. The truth was that He hadn't believed that you had completely overcome your feelings for his brother, but it was more than clear from your face that you no longer cared what Harwin did.
"I'm not surprised, considering that I told him about my pregnancy last night," you admitted stroking your stomach with your free hand. "I don't care what Harwin does anyway because I have both of you" you smiled and Alicent felt her heart rise. She loved you so much and she was happy that her feelings were finally reciprocated. She shouldn't be happy that Harwin cheated on you but if it wasn't for your husband's infidelity then you wouldn't be with her and Larys now.
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two swords, three holes | d.t x h.s x reader | smut
synopsis: two bisexual daddies and naive whore! reader. A longing reunion between soft!dom!Harwin, kelitsos and mean!dom!Dae Dae.
idk what about style by tswift made me type this but here we are, enjoy yourself some daddies. Also thanks to @inlovewithhisblueeyes for the title
WC: 4.9k
Warnings; double penetration (wrap before you tap) infantilism, overstimulation, anal, squirting, mlm, breeding kink, humiliation, corruption, :p, clittttt play because y’all know I’m crazy for that, multiple orgasm, multiple rounds,, spanking, rough smut, AFTERCARE! misogynistic culture, mentions of SA,
The warm crackle of the fire by the hearth seemed to have lulled you to further exhaustion, heating skin laid flush against furs in the receiving chambers. Awaiting one curly brown-haired Ser to return from his duties to your bed. The quaint cottage your patrons, or perhaps paramours had provided you with was further away from the Street of Silk, a house with walls large enough to fill with books as you learned to read and two attendants to keep you company in the day as your responsibilities only seem to resume at night. Though your abilities kept your pockets full often, opting to be more philanthropic with its expenditure. Both patrons had made one thing clear, you were to be untouched by hands that weren’t theirs.
They had found you on a particularly brutal rampage before the Tournament of the Harvest Moon. Prince Daemon, the Lord Commander of the City Watch, tore into the streets of King’s Landing with his gold cloak wearing soldiers; rounding up all knowns rapers, thieves and assailants. The perverse of the lot took advantage of the bloodied chaos as their blood rushed with the violence, with Daemon having no account for where his men had been - they too raped and brutalised with the authority of the Crown on their shoulders. Ser Harwin Strong had found you, curled into a corner as a lowly soldier towered over you. His teeth barred as he smirked with the thoughts of defiling you. Harwin had quickly taken action, reprimanding the man and dragging him back by the collar to Prince Daemon along with you as witness to his crime.
Upon their victorious return to the Flea Bottom streets, with the favoured crown sitting on Daemon’s head after winning the tourney. He treated his gold cloaks to his favourite brothel with all the women, ale and strong wines the men could stomach in one night. Chataya’s brothel had been the light of Flea Bottom that night. You worked at the very brothel, not as a whore but as a helper, while you were sold to Chataya at a very young age, her heart bled with empathy for you and raised you in her house and gave you the choice to be a whore or not.
You washed their clothes, cooked meals, cleaned rooms and counted account books with Chataya. Your curious eye often stood in the corners of these rooms dressed as a page boy, watching people delve deeper in perversions within the performative echoes from your ‘sisters’ as they pleased their customers. It was then that you spotted Prince Daemon and Ser Harwin once more, having nothing to offer them as gratitude other than bracelets made of mismatched pearls you had collected while cleaning rooms. Such innocent appreciation had made Daemon’s cock twitch within his breeches, and while Harwin picked a whore to fuck for the night. Daemon tried all his will to convince Chataya to have you - her answer remained firm throughout, it would be only if you wished it so.
Wished you did, having given your maidenhead to the handsome brunette Ser and eventually Daemon, both noblemen had you within their clutches. While they trusted Chataya’s judgement on keeping you just for them, they found it unbecoming within weeks as Daemon purchased a cottage higher up in the city to house you in. Their finest prize showered in gold and comfort, much expected to be kept to yourself and yet you always returned to your sisters. Buying them new gowns and necessities with the money Daemon gave you.
So here you were, bundled with furs in front of a painted hearth. Warm and content as you waited for Harwin to visit you. There had been three fires today in the city and four tavern brawls. The gold cloaks were always busy in ensuring the city safe, and to live up to the purpose Daemon had given them, so even as the hour of the owl struck the higher born of the city resumed to bed, the wild machinations of Flea Bottom were just to begin.
The night swayed forward, as Harwin exhaustively stumbled into your home, your handmaidens letting him into the establishment. He had trailed in to find your bed empty, and a puddle of furs and blankets pooled by the hearth, a head of hair leaking through and an apparent rise and fall of mount. You had fallen asleep waiting for him amd he couldn’t find it in his heart to wake you for his lustful needs. He scooped the bundle whole, all warm and dozed before placing you on your bed and following next you.
He pulled your limp body atop him, his larger arms engulfing you whole, you stir - whiney and apologetic - you realise you had fallen asleep. “Shh, sleep,” Harwin’s words rumbled within his bare chest, the hairs of which tickled at your cheek. The plans you had made to pleasure him tonight all washed away to sea as sleep only made you heavier, with only one thing left to be done, perhaps he would answer.
“May I ask you something, my lord,” you whispered, head lifting up to look upon his tired face. His eyes closed, lashes far prettier than your as he hummed to be permissive. “They say the fighting has grown ugly in the Stepstones, do… Do you have any word of Prince Daemon?”
His brows furrowed as he opened his eyes to look down upon you, his thumb caressed at your cheek. “He has a dragon, girl. He will be fine.”
This time you hummed, nuzzling further into the thickness of his beard, letting sleep carry you away to a world of dream as you imagined being surrounded in your paramours arms again.
Harwin patrolled the streets atop his horse, making his rounds lower into the city and keeping a watchful eye through his helmet. He caught your silhouette, dressed in a light blue gown as you mingled in the markets, spending his fortune for yet another absurd trinket no doubt instead of the pearls or gowns he expected you to buy, the last time you have bought clay moulded lizards - lizards - one of which you gifted him for becoming the Lord Commander of the City Watch before sucking his life through his cock.
“You there, girl!” Harwin’s voice boomed through the market making you flinch, you scowled at him for scaring you and yet people thought that the City Watch had yet again chosen to terrorise the innocent. “Come with me,” his voice dropped in authoritative sauve, motioning his finger to hither you towards him as he dismounted his horse.
Harwin’s hold on you was rough and yet as he dragged you towards an empty alleyway your heart thumped in your chest with excitement, your legs finding it harder to keep up with his hasty steps. Harwin pulled you in between a wall and himself, admiring you from behind his helm, you - very innocently - batted your eyelashes at him. “Have I done something wrong, Ser?” you smirked, lips pulling at the corners as you played along.
“Oh, a terrible crime,” he pushed you back against the stone wall “what do you think you are wearing?” his brow querked as his pointer and middle finger mindlessly trailed down to the low cutout of the dress, his fingers resulting in goosebumps flaring over your skin as he caressed the valley in between your breasts.
“This?” you looked down to your dress sheepishly, knowing the Dornish silhouette was a far exotic choice than anything the commoners let alone the ladies in King’s Landing wore. Gold arm cuffs were hugged around your upper arm as the ruby pendant Daemon gifted you sat against your sternum. “Do you not like it?” your question is genuine, soft. You doe eyed little thing.
“I could rip this off you as retribution, sweet girl,” he groaned, letting his head drop towards the crook of your neck “but I won’t. He whiffed in the scent of lilies in the air around you as he dragged his lips up to your ear, “on your knees, pet.”
“But- my dress,” you whined, not wanting to dirty your dress that you were sure no matter how hard you scrubbed wouldn’t be off, your bottom lip pouting out in conflict over wanting to kneel for him and the loss of your dress.
“I’ll buy you dozens more, perhaps take you Dorne myself,” he opposed, still caressing the round of your breast, letting them slip past the deep cut out.
You obliged kneeling like a well trained slut, ready with your tongue out to have your mouth stuffed. Harwin freed his cock from his breech, it laid semi hardened as you wrapped your hand around the base, tugging at it to harden alive. The warm appendage laid heavy on your tongue as his wet tip leaked its yearn slick. You suckled right on the tip, looking up at him through the lining of your eyelashes. His body hunched over, his palm laid flat against the wall as he greeted his teeth over the maddening sight of your innocent eyes looking up at him, his sweetest prize.
Your mouth sunk deeper feeling him grace the back of your mouth as your throat constricted, your cunt too pooled it’s slick within you. Wanting nothing more than to be pounded against this jagged stone wall. You bobbed away, reaching up to cradle his stones within your palm as you choked against his length. His muffled grunts echoing with the bustle noises of the city, any watchful eye would merely see a whore pleasuring a knight for two coppers, but you - you were no mere whore, you were the woman that held two noblemen by their collars.
“Ah - darling, fuck,” he hissed, the warm sensations of your mouth pleasuring him beyong compare “such a good girl,” he groaned. Holding back the urge to abruptly fuck into your mouth as his digits curled into your braided crown. His stones laid heavy and twitchy upon your hands as your eyes blazed aflame, finding much power bringing a staunch man like him so vulnerable, his lips pink and wet with his blue sea-like eyes glancing into your soul. The warm cream from his cock, spilling fast your lips as he finally rutted his hips into your mouth.
He rests his forehead onto the clenched fist resting on the wall, heaving his thudding heart to calm as you tuck him back into his breeches. Still pawing at his bountiful leather covered thighs, resting your cheek against it as you waited for him to gather his bearings. He yanked you up by your forearms, pulling out a handkerchief from his pockets to wipe at the corners of your mouth. He smiled at you, plump lips curling as he tucked his handkerchief into the belt of your dress.
“Scurry back home,” he ordered, reaching down to grasp your mound over the silks of your gown “play with your pretty cunt, keep it nice and wet.” he enunciated the ‘t’ as he crowded your air with his own. Commanding and tall “and don’t your dare fucking come.”
Even as you yet again curled into this absurdly large bed alone, filled with warmth of the furs and the freshly stoked hearth. The jasmine scent of the flowers decorating your canopy or the painted candle burning at the side of your bed, the owls hooted along with the muffled echo of the city still alive and bustling below. Keeping your galant knight away from your bed, away from your arms. To hell with the mongrels that kept him occupied so, they must always find a tavern to burn or a fight to enthral themselves with. There wasn’t any other way but to stroke your bare shoulder with your spare arm, mimicking the much coarser finger tips that often drew patterns of crescent moons or mangoes.
It has been perhaps hours since slumber consumed you whole, having curled into a rather painful position that would be sure to have your back aching in the morrow. In your drowsy and heavy state, it didn’t really matter. What made your heavy limbs hyper aware to your mind was when thunderous knocks rang down your door way past the middle of the night. Your servant girl had approached the door first, cautious as she rubbed the sleep away from her eyes, she opened the heavy steel bolt on the inside with a thud, hoping to not awaken you upstairs. The view she was graced with was terrifying to say the least, a man with face covered in soot and blood stood by the threshold. Had it not been for the burning torches above the doorway illuminating the steps below. Her scream would have awoken half of Rhaenys Hill, yet the glowing wisp of silver hair that peaked past the dirt made it highly apparent of who this person was, a patron missing from this house for over two years; Daemon Targaryen.
The uproar that followed after Daemon’s return to King’s Landing was joyous, an animalistic life of its own, Flea Bottom had provided. With Daemon’s return, their Prince returned to breathe fire into their debauchery. The night he returned, with no pages or correspondences announcing his return. Merely stopping at your doorstep still reeking of the war he had won, awry bandaging covering his up thigh and the very apparent burn scarring spreading through the right of his torso had you gasping and tears welling in the corners of your eyes as you stripped him of his armour and then clothes. Your servant Marsha had prepared a steaming hot, hot bath to wash away the pains from the brutalities he suffered, once settled in the bath. Perhaps your emotions had taken the better of you as you stepped into the tube as well, hissing at the burning contact of the milky water, still in your cream shift as Daemon protested. You lowered with a washcloth in your hand, wordlessly washing away any speck of dirt fallen victim to your eyes. What had they done to him, even more so what had he done to the assailant that might have had the daft courage to trifle with Daemon.
When you awoke the morning after, Daemon had already vanished. Though having slept with your body pulled tight against his, you had no recollection of him leaving, Marsha said he dressed in the early hours of the morning and left. Your heart stung a little, you should be accustomed to both noble men leaving and arriving at all hours of the morning and night for they had their own courtly lives to lead, a part beyond a common whore’s stature.
By the coming of the afternoon, when the sun stood at its highest and King’s Landing at its busiest, word of Daemon’s performance at court in the morrow spread through the city. The Rogue Prince, now styles the King of the Narrow Sea waltzed into the Throne Room to rub his victory into the faces of his protestors but also added a dozen sacks full of swords, axes and weapons to the throne. Keeping merely the bone and ruby crown he rested upon his head.
You dressed for him nonetheless, with no hopes that he might return at night; having been in his family’s company after three summers. Yet a letter arrived from the Red Keep, informing you to prepare the house of guests. The entirety of the gold cloaks were to descend onto your home, though a large event to host a sizable amount you were still a little wary of the men.
More helpers were acquired just for the evening as you found yourself fussing like the ladies of minor houses to impress the hood society though nothing about this night would be polite, nor proper. You wore a dark maroon dress, curtesy of the colours of house Targaryen, Daemon found it visually stirring, the ominous colour against your supple skin. With much preparation for yourself, from a bath laced with milk and sandalwood shavings - having yourself cleaned thoroughly - to the rose oil rubbed against your skin to your pinkish cheeks and lips with rogue.
The celebration was exuberant, gold cloaks accompanied with women(whores) curled around each arm flooded into the main hall of your home. Deep bellies laughter and high pitched chortle harmonised against one another, you settled comfortably on Harwin’s lap as you giggled and tuned to hear the gory tales of battles between. Taking turns to use your nibble finger and feed either Harwin or Daemon, you revelled in the attention you received. A constant was Daemon's heavier hand under yours as you mindlessly twisted his signet rings, something he took not of and loosened his rest on the table.
Daemon leaned back to whisper to Harwin as you gossiped along with a sister from Chataya’s giggling over the eccentric men she had met and the stories they told her in a lust filled state. You abruptly shrieked as you felt Harwin rise with your body in his arms as he effortlessly threw you over his shoulder. Hollers and hoots ripped through the main hall as they banged their fists against the table or whistled at their Lord Commander, his chair scraping against the stone floor as he began to carry you upstairs. Daemon rose their after.
“Now,” he announced as the chatter in the room dwindled, “forgive me lads, I’m afraid the hostess herself is a finer feast than the one she has offered us tonight.” He smirked your way as you were carried away. The men around the hall toasted your name and hollered once more as Daemon soon followed behind.
Your dress has been long discarded in some dark corner of your bed chambers, the crowd below had surely filled themselves to the brothels or taverns. Leaving but Marsha and the attendant to clean the mess left behind. Upstairs yet another scene unfolding at the foot of your bed as your stood on the balls of your feet, head swooning and occupied at the wet ministrations between yours legs. One knee resting over Harwin’s shoulder as the other being caressed by a hand - which hand was a question unanswered as you were being consumed in waves of pleasure.
Harwin’s beard tickled and rubbed against your thigh sore, his tongue feasting at the petal below. Slurping between your folds only to grace you aching, throbbing bud momentarily; refusing you of the release you longed for. Daemon settled behind you toyed with your puckered rosebud, a sensation he much missed as he himself had carved a home with his cock in your arse. Licking and spreading it open with his tongue, lovingly - teasingly letting his digit be engulfed as his others toyed with your cunt. Filling either from the paper walls separating them, Daemon found odd fascination with the way your environs moved, malleable to stretch to his will but mostly how much the brat within you fought hard against the acquiescent demeanour you possessed.
They could spend hours strumming away at your petals and holes; relishing in the sounds of your squelching cunt along with the soft kitten like mewls curbed your urge to beg. Harwin once again trapped your pearl between his lip, suckling away as you shrieked. Hips grinding as best as they could against the tight hold held against them, you wanted to finish, the tingle soon turning to pain. You yearned for that release like water to a dying plant. “Pl - please my lord,” you whined, more tears falling past your eyes.
To your horror, Harwin pulled away once more as he felt the grip of your cunny clench against his and Daemon’s fingers. You could nearly scream from how frustrated you were but all you could do was weep, mourn the longing peak that now flared into far sensitised despair in your belly. Sniffling and pouted soft bottom lip down, Daemon rose to his legs to admire the bereft look of pliant begging. “Please,” you whispered, more tears falling from your eyes as you opened them. Your eyes looking up at Daemon towering over you, “I’ll do anything, my prince,” you hiccuped, leaning into the soft caress of his hand.
Daemon’s palm curled into your wild hair, yanking back the braided crown “I’m not your prince am I?” his voice sweet, doting yet the shivering of threats, no - no he wasn’t your prince, he was your tormentor. Having grown too used to the spoiling Harwin had doted upon you. “My King,” you said, hoping to please him, enough to wash away the terrible ache in between your legs.
His hand never left your hair as he pulled you away from Harwin, yanking your clumsy limbs down to your bed. Harwin rose to his feet next, beard glistening with your juices and blue eyes blown with lust, he kissed your arse as your shuffled onto the bed. Dripping away the extra furs and blankets, to hell with them. Daemon engulfed Harwin from behind, attacking his neck as he complained “you’ve spoil her too much,” he whispered as he let his arms roam through his paramour’s muscular body.
“And you not enough,” Harwin defended, smiling at your needy face “she is a good girl, isn’t she?” He quirks his brow at you. Your head furiously nodded, sealing the statement as you sat on your knee and back straightened. The only thing gracing your skin, a necklace made of shells and sapphires. “Organising such a wondrous feast for her lords,” he said, Daemon hummed, agreeing.
“I suppose you do deserve to be rewarded, don’t you slut,” Daemon approached you, pushing you hair away, almost petting you like a kept animal. You nodded once more. “What do you want?” he whispered against your lips.
“Both, I - I want to be full,” you looked down at your fiddling fingers “please,” you requested. Daemon audibly growled from the back of his throat. His forehead falling to rest against yours, the insatiable want you had just voiced was one too sinful, one too familiar and yet untouched in years.
“It’s been long pet, perhaps we should wait before using you so…” the excited smile that adorned your lips downturned entirely to a frown and pout. You nudged your nose at Daemon hoping he would agree, convince Harwin that you could do it.
“Please, I’ve been so empty,” you reached forward to palm at Harwin’s crotch. He hissed, succumbing to your eyes per usual.
“If you are hurt-“
“I will tell you, I promise,” you perked up once more.
Your arse soon oiled slick as you laid engulfed between both men, what began with little resistance from your part, with no hurt or weeping. Both took turns pistoning at your hole. Just as Daemon breached your rosebud as Harwin’s cock remained nestled in your cunny, you peak swiftly washed out you. Yet perhaps an hour or even two after you pushed against Harwin, weeping and dizzy as you recovered from yet another peak. There was no place to run as your laid sandwiched in between Harwin, your leg thrown over his thigh as Daemon fucked your bottom from behind.
As though performing tricks both took you apart in the filthiest of ways, Harwin showering you with compliments as he moaned and coddled you with each thrust, Daemon - Daemon left no word unturned within the crass knowledge of his words. His slut, his whore that he trained from firsthand. His palm curled against your throat as he fucked your arse raw; “there’s no running ilbitsos,” he grunted against your ear. “You love this, arse gaping for me to fuck, cunny sopping wet for Harwin.”
Your mouth parted to perhaps mewl some more and construct a sentence yet your tongue felt heavy, “seems we might have fucked our sweet girl daft,” Harwin added, pinching at the pebbles nipples brushing against his chest. Daemon laid two sharp smacks on your rear to elicit an answer, you weren’t sure if you did or perhaps if it was coherent. You blinked away tears as you rambled about loving their cock or being the silly whore but little mattered against the building pressure in your belly, yet again.
“Shh, just let it happen,” Harwin groaned as he felt you fight against them again, there wasn’t a warning this time. Harwin in turn curled his palm around throat as Daemon lowered to pull in your belly towards him while the other free hand found your engorged pearl, unsheathed from its hiding as he flicked his thumb at the throbbing nub. He could swore your arse pulsed the same way the pink coil of nerves did. You screamed, crying out as the fucked you only that much harder. There was only moments of pleasurable agony as the flow of your peak burst right through, literally.
“Fuck, she’s going to milk my cock dry,” Daemon exclaimed, “dumb slut just hungry to be filled with noble seed, isn’t she,” he groaned feeling your peak drench his cock and the sheets bellow as Harwin and him fucked your pliant body through the finish. Their own cocks soon after twitching to completion as they intertwined their hand with one another’s, sticky warm seed flooded your cunt and rosebud, they heaved in unison and you - you were gone. The brunt of the peak pulled you far away from shore, your breathing the only indication that they indeed had not fucked you to death.
When you awoke, your limbs no longer tingled but you were warm, and heavy. You heard shuffles of feet, the sound of wood - doors opening and closing until your eyes opened. Your body curled tightly against Daemon as you sat in between his legs, dozing to consciousness from the thorough exertions they put you through you whined once more. “Shh, it’s over sweet girl,” he whispered, his fingers caressing your arms. While Daemon wasn’t one for words he was sure to purchase another necklace for your efforts tonight.
Harwin from the other end rubbed a wash cloth against your face, washing away the tears, drool and snot covering your face. Whispering sweet words as he always did as the attendants stripped the linens for fresh ones. Only this night there was no need for a fresh stoked fire for you had both laying on either side of you.
#daemon targaryen x reader#harwin strong#harwin strong x reader#harwin x reader#daemon targaryen x reader x harwin strong#daemon smut#harwin smut#daemon fic#house of the dragon#hotd smut#hotd imagine#hotd fanfic#sir harwin#harwin breakbones strong#harwin imagine#ser harwin strong#harwin breakbones#ser harwin x reader#prince daemon targaryen#daemon#daemon fanfic#daemon x reader
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Hii girlie,
can you please write a fic for Harwin Strong? Him & Targaryen!reader already got 5 children and have no plans of stopping anytime soon when it comes to making more babies🤭
Thank you❤️
Harwin Strong*Breakbones
Pairing: Harwin x wife!targ!reader
Word count: 1731
Warnings: talks of pregnancy/kids, teasing, p in v sex, breeding kink, rougher sex (not extreme), biting, smut 18+
Masterlist Here
it was the little things that made life so good. like rolling over in the morning and directly into the sleeping arms of your husband who even in his sleeps wraps you in a tight hug. you smiled sleepily against Harwin’s bare chest, placing a gentle kiss to his skin. times like this made you appreciate your older sister even more since you weren’t forced into marrying a cousin or nephew but instead your sworn protecter.
you were snapped from your thoughts as you felt Harwin place a tender kiss on your head, his hand moving to slowly stroke your back. “Good morning wife,” he mumbled into your hair like he did all mornings. “Did you sleep well?” he asked as his fingers moved to slowly brush through your messy bed head.
“I always sleep well with you by my side,” you mumbled against his skin, nuzzling into his chest as his nails raked against your scalp in just the right way.
“Then I shall never leave it,” he said with a sleepy chuckle.
“Good,” you said as you forced yourself to lean up so you could appreciate your husbands’ features, “But im afraid we must get up,” you said as you placed your hands on his chest to push yourself up, but you were stopped by Harwin’s arms wrapping tightly round your waist, “Harwin,” you whined but it came out as more of a laugh.
Harwin chuckled at your attempt to wriggle free, but his strong arms easily locked you in place, “You’re not going anywhere love,” he said as he stole a quick kiss, “I cannot leave your side remember,” he teased.
You sighed and tried to put on a serious face despite the urge to giggle like a young lady at court, “But what of our responsibilities? you have to train the new guard recruits,”
“We have other fine soldiers. let them train them,” he said, brushing the hair out of your face to gently hold your jaw, “I have marital responsibilities to attend to,”
You weren’t able to stop your giggle this time, but your protest did not end, “What of the children? I need to ready them and make sure they do not try miss their classes,” you said, settling into his chest as your protest turned to just words, “You know how fussy Rhaya gets when I am not the one to dress her,”
“Our children are lucky to have you as a mother,” he hummed making your heart warm. you had done your best to be a true mother to your children despite many of your station passing them off to others to be raised. “Maybe another lucky child will join us soon,”
you rolled your eyes with a light smile, “I have already told you the maester confirmed it was all a mistake. I am not with child,” you said. initially you had both been a little disappointed by the news but the busy hustle of your current litter of children made it easy to forget your upset.
however, a grin crept on Harwin’s face as his hands moved from your waist down your back to your ass, grabbing it suddenly making you gasp, “Not yet wife,” he grinned.
“Husband,” you scolded, hitting his chest knowing your fists were like taps to his frame, “You would make me late to our children for your own needs?” you said with fake annoyance, but he could see the grin teasing the corner of your lips.
“Not my needs dear wife,” he said, his hands moving slowly down to rest on the backs of your thighs, pushing your shift up so he could rub his thumbs over your bare skin, “My marital needs. after all I swore an oath to you. what kind of husband would I be if I did not fulfil it?”
“I think the five others who are currently tormenting their maids prove your more than capable sweet husband,” you said as you finally moved to sit up, but Harwin grabbed your hips, forcing you to stay sat on his lap.
he leaned forward, kissing you suddenly with one hand holding your jaw, the other your hip. the kiss was soft and slow as you felt his fingers squeeze the flesh of your hips which he often praised. despite being married with children he still took the breath out of you with just a kiss, “I suppose,” you said against his lips as you tried to catch your breath, “being a little late never hurt,”
“That’s the spirit,” he said, his lips brushing yours with every word as his hand found the back of your neck.
you couldn’t help but moan into the kiss as he lightly ground his hips up, pressing his growing bulge into your clothed cunt. you knew by how tightly he was gripping your hip there would be bruises tomorrow but you didn’t care. after all there were two reasons, he was called breakbone.
still, you gasped when he suddenly flipped you onto your back. Harwin grinded his hips down slowly, teasing you with each press of his hips against yours. his hands began to roam your body, squeezing your waist and breasts over your shift. his fingers trailed softly along the edge of your neckline before suddenly ripping the soft fabric. you gasped as the fabric ripped, the sudden breeze making your nipples harden.
your soft moans were covered by Harwin’s lips as his fingers began to softly roll your pebbled nubs between his calloused hands. his hands may be rough with a sword but soft on you as he traced around the sensitive buds between squeezes. “You still need to go?” he asked, breaking the kiss for only a moment.
“Im not going anywhere,” you said before pulling him back in for a deep kiss, your hands tangled in his hair.
you whined into the kiss when you felt his hands fall from your nipples, but an excitement began to build as you felt him pulling at his undergarment’s strings. your hands fell from his hair to run down his chest, feeling his muscles as you lightly trailed your fingers down his hot skin. however, it did not take him long to undo his trousers and push whatever fabric was in the way to the side.
you moaned as you felt his fingers trail along your cunt, pausing to tease the entrance of your hole, “Always so ready for me,” he praised as he moved to hold his cock. he lined his tip up with yours, the tip barely pushing in as you bit back a whine, “You want me to fuck you princess?” he asked, brushing the hair off your face with his spare hand, “Fuck you till you are filled with my child? till you scream my name?”
“Yes,” you moaned, gasping as he slowly began to push in, “Please Harwin please fuck me already,”
“I like when you beg,” he mused, his head falling to place soft kisses to your neck as he slowly pushed deeper inside, “you take me so well princess,” he said, his voice a strangled breath of groans and moans as he sunk his cock all the way in, “Such a good little wife,” he praised as he slowly began to move.
intuitively your legs wrapped around his waist, “please,” you whined, your eyes screwing up in anticipation as your fingers trailed over his shoulders, “don’t tease me this time. I need you. please,” your words seemed to move your husband as you gasped as he suddenly began thrusting in you.
Harwin wasted no time slipping a hand between your frames to find your clit, rubbing it precisely after many times of practise. you moaned as his lips worked harsh kisses along your neck to match his thrusts. he was called breakbone for a reason you thought as your nails dug into his shoulder blades.
as your nails trailed down his back you heard Harwin mumble praises and curse words under his breath, enjoying every scrape and scratch you were leaving. you could feel a familiar knot bubbling in your stomach as his cock stretched you out, pounding your defenceless bodily mercilessly into the bed. you wondered if the maids had grown used to the moans coming from your bed chambers of if the current sounds you were making still made them blush.
you did not worry for them however when Harwin grabbed your legs, pushing your thighs back so he could fuck you deeper into the plush mattress. your moans could probably be heard across the red keep by this point, “Please,” you moaned, each word interrupted by his thrusts, “Don’t stop, just like that,” you gasped as Harwin’s fingers dug into your hips tightly.
“I can’t stop myself,” he gasped, his thrusts growing messy, but it did not matter to you as you felt your knot tighten and your cunt begin to grip around his cock making Harwin moan.
“Please,” you began to whisper like a prayer till suddenly your body felt it would burst and you felt yourself come around his cock like a tiddle wave. your curses and moans did not make your husband stop however and you had to bite down on his shoulder as his thrusts grew heavier and you wondered if you would break.
“So good,” Harwin mumbled over and over as his thrusts grew sloppy and desperate before you suddenly felt that familiar feeling as his body tightened, his thrusts stopping, as you felt his seed spill deep inside of you.
you took the moment to catch your breath as your husband rode out his own pleasure before collapsing in the bed beside you. “That was- “he said between pants, “You are- I love you,” he finally settled upon as his gaze turned to you, wide eyed and exhausted.
“I love you too husband,” you giggled, as you rolled over to cuddle into his side, “But you owe me a new shift,” you joked as you traced hearts with your fingertips on his bare chest.
Harwin chuckled lightly as he wrapped his arm around you, “I’ll make sure to get you the finest of linens for it my dear wife,” he said as he pulled you tightly into his side, “See?” he teased, “Being late is worth it sometimes,” you rolled your eyes, pretending to be annoyed despite knowing he was right.
Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila
#harwin strong#ser harwin x reader#harwin strong x reader#harwin strong smut#harwin strong imagine#harwin x reader#harwin x you#harwin imagine#harwin smut#hotd#hotd x reader#hotd smut#hotd imagine#house strong#house of the dragon#house of the dragon x reader#house of the dragon imagine#house of the dragon smut
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