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drakoneve · 7 months

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A Dragon's Wrath

Request: hello hello, how are u? Idk if u write for Harwin Strong, but I'm obsessed with this man, so if you're not taking requests for him, forgive me for being rude. So I wanted to make a request where the reader is the younger sister of Rhaenyra Targaryen, also daughter of Aemma and Viserys. She married Strong, and lives a dream life with him (they love each other very much, so please, Rhaenyra's children are not his 🫠) and the legitimacy of their children was questioned, of course the queen would never imagine that Harwin had a birthmark, which none of his brothers inherited from Lyonel, he being the only one to have it and ALL THE CHILDREN OF HARWIN AND THE PRINCESS HAVE THAT SAME BRAND, JUST LIKE THE FATHER'S. Maybe I went on too long and was stupid, sorry, you can do whatever comes to your brilliant mind, I just really wish the legitimacy of the children of the OC was proved by legal means and gave no right to be questioned even by the queen. Thank you for your attention, I understand if you don't want to do it 🤍.

pairing: harwin strong x targ!fem!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: mentions of childbirth, alicent being snakey

a/n: first harwin fic, harwin girlies lmk what you think!! for the sake of this fic, Rhae's children have Targaryen silver hair

In all the years the pair were married, King Viserys and Queen Aemma were blessed by the Mother with only two healthy, living babes. First born has been your elder sister Rhaenyra, whom you followed two years later.

Growing up the two of you remained close through your lessons and dragon riding, but as Rhaenyra grew older she would end up spending more and more time with her lady in waiting Alicent Hightower. Rhaenyra and Alicent being two of the only other girls your age in the Red Keep and their refusal to have anyone join them in their activities, you felt somewhat dejected by your sister's budding friendship.

This is what led you to find solace in the Red Keep's training yards. Day after day you watched knights, and knights in training, battle it out in the yard while you worked on your studies. It was there in the yard you saw him for the first time- your future husband, Ser Harwin Strong.

At the time you had no idea you would end up marrying him, of course, but you should have.

You'd heard all about Ser Harwin Breakbones, son of Lyonel Strong, one of your father's most loyal council men. Harwin's reputation truly preceded him and was rightfully earned.

You hadn't noticed it at the time, but you'd abonded your books and parchments in the stands by your supervising Septa as you approached the rail separating the stands and the training yard in an attempt for a clearer view.

Harwin stood taller than his opponents, shoulders back, sword in hand ready to defend himself. He watched his opponents carefully, calculating their next move. His short brown curls were halfway pulled back out of his face with a tie, exposing Harwin's jawline, much to your own enjoyment.

That afternoon you watched Harwin take down man after man without so much as a proper blow to his own body. He wielded his sword as if it were an extension of his arm in fluid, rushing movements.

When he had finally finished for the evening you applauded him, finally grabbing his attention as he had held yours.

"You are quite the swordsman, Ser Harwin!" you call out to him. "I feel much better knowing there are knights as skilled as you protecting my home."

Harwin grinned largely at your praise, twirling his sword in his hand for show as he approached the rail you supported yourself on. "I mean only to ensure you are safe at all times, my princess."

You smiled down at him now that he was almost right below you. "Well I have no doubts of your capabilities, Ser. I have a feeling you will do great things here, should you wish."

"You are too kind, princess," he chuckles. Then he looks up at the sky, towards the sun on it's way to set. "It is getting quite late, princess. Shall I escort you back to your chambers?"

The excitement and hopefulness in his face brought butterflies to your stomach.

"I would like nothing more, Ser."

After that night it was scarce the two of you weren't side by side, which all but pushed your fathers to wed the two of you.

Now you stood in those same stands, watching Harwin in the yard yet again, but now he's joined by your two eldest sons. Maevor has just passed his tenth and second name day, and Daeragon his ninth. Your two youngest babes, however remained with you and your maid and close friend, Malina.

Malina had first been assigned to you after your marriage to Harwin, and she'd stood loyally by your side as you birthed all of your children.

Malina's elder brother Ellion, a knight of the City Watch, stood closeby on the order of Harwin. He'd been one of Harwin's best men as you'd heard him compliment the younger knight on many occasions in the past. Being a Targaryen princess and wife of the Lord Commander in such uncertain times in the house of the dragon could be dangerous, and Harwin meant only to protect you and your babes.

Your first daughter, eldest of your month old twins, Naelora cooed softly in your arms as she played with the loose sleeve ends of your dress. You indulged her for a moment, raising your arm to lift the sleeve from her reach to tease her.

She gurgles in laughter, stretching her chubby little arms to grasp your sleeve once more.

The moment is over by the approach of Queen Alicent's lady in waiting, Talya.

"My apologies, Princess," Talya bows to you first. "But the Queen has requested Malina's presence for this afternoon."

Why would the queen need Malina specifically? Surely she could find another maid within the Keep to aid her?

Malina looks to you, pale brown eyes silently asking to stay. This isn't the first time something like this has happened, of course. After giving birth to your second son Daeragon, Queen Alicent began requesting Malina's presence more often.

Still sore from your labors, Harwin had taken the day off to aid you and watch over Maevor to allow you to rest.

You watched happily from your spot on the bed as Harwin held little Daeragon, to introduce him to his elder brother. Maevor, a boy of three years, stood as high as he could on his toes to get a peek over Harwin's bulk of an arm to get a glimpse of his brother.

Then your chamber doors open and Malina returns to your side after serving the queen all day. She approaches the foot of your bed, hands clasped together in front of her with her eyes cast slightly downwards.

"Malina, you needn't worry about me," you begin to dismiss her kindly. "I'm sure the Queen-"

But Malina shakes her head, brown curls following her, still refusing to meet your gaze. "I need to speak with you, Princess. And you, Lord Harwin, in privacy."

You share a concerned look with Harwin, who's joyfulness has been replaced with worry. In the time she's served you Malina had never been afraid to look you in your eyes.

He wastes no time escorting Maevor to his chambers just off your own, and placing little Daeragon in his crib next to your side of the bed. Harwin returns and stands dutifully on the other side of you as if protecting you.

"What is it?" you ask, and pat the bed in front of you for Malina to sit.

Malina makes no move to sit on your bed. "My princess," her voice wavers nervously. "I have served your for near half a decade now, and I know you to be the most true and kind person I have ever had the pleasure of serving-"

"Malina," Harwin interrupts sternly. "Speak it plain, what have you heard of my wife?"

Your heart thudded hard in your chest as you instinctively reached for Harwin's hand. He intertwined his fingers with your in an attempt to comfort you.

Malina takes in a deep breath before finally looking up to meet your gaze. "Queen Alicent requested my presence after your labors today for questioning."

"Questioning?" you tilted your head slightly. "About what?"

"Your sons," she answered swiftly. "She... She wanted to know if this babe looked like Harwin or..."

Harwin pulled his hand from yours, placing it on the hilt of his sword. "Or who, Malina?"

"Ellion," Malina whispers. "The Queen seems to believe that you spend too much time with Ellion, princess. She asked if I knew of any relations between the two of you, but I swore to her you are deathly loyal and would never-"

You move from your spot on the bed to bring yourself to stand. Harwin aids you as you steady yourself, then reach for Malina's forearm.

"You needn't explain yourself to me, Malina," you assure her. "I know you to be true to me, and you are one of the kindest ladies I know. You should go, retire for the night. We shall do the same."

Malina apologizes the whole way out your chamber doors despite your assurances. Harwin begins to strip his armor as you settle yourself back into bed.

Daeragon's crib sat just off the side of your bed, close enough for you to have a view of the newborn's little face.

Harwin soon joins your side clad in his nightclothes. You can feel his gaze on you, but you refuse to meet his gaze. Emotions ran rampant through you. You knew it must be the strain and high emotions of you and your new babe surviving the day, but you couldn't stop the rush.

It's when the tears begin to fall from your lilac eyes that Harwin wraps you up in his arms and pulls you back against him.

"My love," he cooes. "Sweet girl, do not worry yourself with the opinion of a misguided, jealous woman."

He raises his right hand to show off the inside of his right wrist, showing off the small, discolored patch of skin he inherited from his father, Lord Lyonel. A small, almost missable, seemingly insignificant patch of skin both Maevor and Daeragon had inherited.

Harwin leans in close, placing his lips against the shell of your ear. "We know I have fathered your sons, my love. Do not worry yourself with this, it is not worth it."

"You're right, husband," you hum, settling into your husband's arms for the night. "I'm just glad he's here, and healthy."

He kisses your temple softly. "You did that. You made him the healthy babe he is."

As you promised Harwin that night, you did your best to ignore the rumors pursued by Alicent. In the years following Daeragon's birth you'd heard more whispers within the court questioning your son's parentage, though you said nothing.

You tried your best to pay them no mind, other days they really got to you. But for now you simply obliged to the queen's wishes.

"Ser Ellion," you motioned your friend forward with one hand. He looked much like his sister as they shared the same nose, and brown curly hair, though Ellion's eyes were an elegant green. Still, no man in the Seven Kingdoms could come close to Harwin in your eyes.

"Would you mind taking my sweet Raemor from your sister? I'm afraid I cannot tend to both babes at once."

Ellion nods and leans down slightly to make a peaceful transition from his sister's arms. He wore an awkward grin on his face as he cradles the blanket wrapped babe the best he could in a full suit of armor. "It is an honor, Princess. Though I'm not certain he will be comfortable against such steel."

Malina bows and takes Talya's arm in her own. You know Malina's dislike for the woman, and you can only guess she's done this to ensure Talya is led away from you and your family.

You shake your head in response to Ellion yet keep your attention on your daughter in your arms. "It is no issue, Harwin holds them in his armor every day. He has with each of them."

A moment passes in silence and you look up to your husband and eldest children. Maevor's brown curls are just long enough on the top to be tied back while leaving some down thus his hair is relatively tame. Daeragon's, however, is tousled and absolutely untame.

Both boys are breathing heavier now, their cheeks flushed. But the beautiful, pure look of excitement on their faces melted your heart. They knew their father was Lord Commander of the City Watch, and that Harwin worked hard for his family at his very important job, and they treasured their father for it.

After taking them to see Harwin train with some of the new recruits of the City Watch two fortnights ago had been a mistake on your part for the boys had not shut up about training themselves. At first you had been hesitant, of course other Targaryen princes had been taught to fight years before your boys, but you were afraid of the things they might encounter so instead you encouraged them to spend time in the libraries and their respective dragons.

As a result the boys were extremely well read and years ahead of their pupils in their studies. Maevor is practically fluent in Valyrian now, and Daeg is not far behind.

Their insistent pleading had wore on you though, and you gave in to them with Harwin's reassurance he would personally oversee their training. In the end, Maevor and Daeg's immediate joy at being granted permission made it worth it in the end.

Harwin and the boys were cleaning their training gear and putting it away.

Ellion clears his throat, pulling your attention from your family. "I fear something is happening, Princess."

"What do you mean?" you ask, standing from your seat and brushing your skirts with one hand.

"I have been approached twice now," he explains carefully, watching who was sat in the immediate area. The closest people sat on the complete opposite of the training yard in those stands. "Once by a fellow knight, and then by Talya herself. I only mention this as a warning, Princess."

Harwin and the boys are nearly there and you don't want the boys to hear such slander.

"Thank you, Ellion," you force a smile to give him. "And I apologize for what has been whispered around court these last years, but I plan now to make it right."

Harwin approaches you then, slinking one arm around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. "Come, my love, the boys need to bathe and our littlest ones must be ready for their nap."

Maevor perks up, "Mother, may I carry Naelora back to your chambers?"

Your hearts melts at the question, Maevor ever the doting older brother. You grant your son permission, gently reminding him to hold her head carefully.

"And I shall take Raemor from you, Ellion. I thank you for your services for today."

He bows respectfully, "Tis my duty, and an honor."

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Once the twins are down for their naps and the older boys off to the bathhouse with Malina you informed Harwin of everything that had transpired this afternoon while he trained with the boys.

His thick brows furrowed almost immediately, angre written upon his face. Harwin had shed his armor by now, settling for more comfortable leathers for the evening. His sword however, stayed attached to his hip with one hand gripping the hilt.

"I am sick of hearing your name and reputation tarnished by fools!" Harwin seethes, angrier than you've ever seen him. "I have half a mind to slay them all down for even thinking such things of our children, of you."

You shake your head softly, approaching him to cup his face. You press your forehead against his own, something you've always done to comfort him.

"I have a plan, my dutiful husband," you assure him. "I happen to have a wonderful relationship with my father by law, if you must know. And I just so happen to know that a Small Council meeting starts in mere minutes."

Harwin eases a little, but now he's wrought with confusion.

"What have you planned, my love?"

You smile mischievously and press a sweet kiss to your husband's lips. "Just you wait husband, I first require our Maevor."

The boys are back from their baths by now as you can hear them bustling about Daeragon's chambers, which is the adjoining room to your own.

You knock before you enter as you always do, to the sight of your boys on Daeg's bed, books sprawled open before them.

"What have we there, byka zaldrīzoti (little dragons)?" you ask as you join them on the bed.

Daeg pulls the leather bound book to cover his lap to show you. "The Histories of Old Valyria!" he chimes. "Maevor was reading it to me in Valyrian."

You stroke Daeg's plush cheek with one hand, still able to see the babe he used to be in his face, and take Maevor's hand in your other.

"He's smart, your brother," you 'whisper' to Daeragon. "I would study hard, my Prince."

Maevor breaks his hand away to rustle his brother's brown curls. "Muña's teasing, Daeg. You are smarter now than I was your age."

You swoon, heart melting at the relationship between your boys. "Oh my sweet Maev," you kiss his temple. "Might I borrow you for a awhile, I have something important to discuss with the Small Council and I need your help."

Maevor's brown eyes widened slightly, "Of course, mother."

"Have no fear, sweet boy, I have a plan."

And you sure did. Once you explained what you could to Maevor while sparing his innocence best you could, he'd been more than willing to join you.

You squatted down to be closer to your son's level, Harwin by your side. "You are special, Maevor," you explain to him. You grab Harwin's right hand and Maevor's to put them side by side. Both birthmarks were near identical save for Harwin's being larger and slightly darker than his son's. "Each of my babes have this mark, all from Harwin, who inherited it from your grandsire, Lyonel. Do you understand?"

He nods, but says nothing. Harwin crouches down next to you, reaching to cup his eldest son's face.

"I wish we did not have to burden you with such a task, my boy," Harwin admits grimly. "I want you to know we are only doing this because we love you children, and I love your muña too much to let people speak of her in such a way any longer."

So the three of you set off, accompanied by Ellion as Malina had stayed behind to watch the twins and Daeragon.

Despite the Kingsguard outside the meeting room of the Small Council, you march right past them and push the doors open yourself.

Each member of the council turns to you now silenced. Otto sat up straighter in his seat as he looked towards his daughter. Alicent looked shocked to see the group of you, and you noted her visible nervousness.

Lyonel stands and comes to Harwin's side, demanding answers most likely. Harwin begins whispering in his father's ear, explaining the situation.

"Sister," Rhaenyra stands, hand placed over her round stomach. "What is wrong?"

You cross your arms over your chest, eyes blazing as you glare at the Hightowers at the table. "Since the birth of my Daeragon I have endured vile slanders against not only myself, but my marriage, and every one of my children."

Alicent shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"Princess," Otto pokes in. "I can assure you-"

"Assure what?" you snap, slamming down on the table to lean towards the Hand. "Alicent has been the one to pull my ladies from me just after giving birth to insinuate my babes have been fathered by knight of the City Watch who is not my husband. Even now, a month after having my twins, I am approached with more blasphemy. No more."

You usher Maevor forward, who happily extends his right arm before you have to ask. Harwin joins you, followed by Lyonel, both of whom put out their wrists as well.

Alicent's mouth widens in shock before she grits her teeth. Even Larys' wears a look of shock as he checks his own wrists, coming up with nothing.

"I am tired of my children being put under scrutiny," you say finally. "And of my loyalty to my husband being questioned. Now, if you all do not mind, I would like to enjoy the rest of the day with my family undisturbed."

You step back from the table to leave when Rhaenyra wraps you up in a hug. "I am so sorry, sister," she whispers.

You assure her with a simple kiss to the side of her head before reaching for Maevor's hand.

The boy is practically bouncing on his feet as the two of you make your way back to your chambers, both Harwin and Ellion following close behind.

"She is very scary, your wife," Ellion admits to Harwin lowly. "I would to want to be on the receiving end of her wrath."

He only chuckles, "No, nor would I."

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axelsagewrites · 5 months

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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,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila @jacesvelaryons

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criminalamnesia · 4 months

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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.

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simpingland · 1 month

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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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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 1 year

Text

I am his, and he is mine

Summary: You’re married off to Ser Harwin Strong by your lord father’s designs, and the prospect of a marriage consummation terrifies you.

Notes: idk man I just need more Harwin Breakmybones smut. Harwin obviously isn’t with our queen Rhae Rhae in this. Also, pretending not to know what we do abt Larys here.

Warnings: virgin!reader, reader is intimidated by Harwin, first time, reader is extremely innocent, vaginal sex, oral sex (f!receiving), Harwin loves eating punani

Masterlist | requests are OPEN! | hmu to be added to a taglist!!

Marrying his bride the day he met her was never what he wanted. Harwin didn’t consider himself a romantic, but he thought it cruel to be bound to someone you didn’t know for the rest of his life. It was more unfair to you, being a woman and forbidden from seeking out others for love.

His father had meant well with this marriage. Apparently, your father was a childhood friend, and you the oldest daughter of a great house. Though Lord Lyonel wasn’t ambitious, he was loyal to his friends, and the king, who encouraged the match. So in a whirlwind of affairs, the betrothal had been arranged by ravens, and the marriage planned.

You had married in the sept of King’s Landing earlier this day, and though Harwin had written you a letter to calm your nerves, the first time he got any impression of you was when your father led you to the altar.

He felt sorry for you. Whatever dreams you had held for the future had been crushed the moment the septon bound you in marriage. And on top of that, he wasn’t sure if you were scared of him or not. His reputation was true to his character, and next to his wide frame, almost every woman looked frail.

And now, while the wedding feast was in full swing, he saw your hands shake as you attempted to cut your food. He tried to distract himself, looking around the room and attempting to take his mind off of the fact that his lady wife seemed to find him unpleasant.

King Viserys was sitting next to his father, leaving Queen Alicent to put on an icy mask. She was better at hiding it than his wife. Perhaps because she had been in King’s Landing for longer. Princess Rhaenyra, on the other hand, was deep in conversation with Lady Laena. The two of them had grown closer since the rift between Rhaenyra and Alicent, and if Ser Harwin was not mistaken, the Queen looked almost jealous.

Prince Daemon was currently returned from his latest exile, trying to rile up Otto Hightower. Judging from the strain in the man’s jaw, the Prince was quite successful in his venture.

Still, it was his wife that seemed the tensest in the room. The new lady Strong, and yet, you seemed to be anything but. From what he had heard from his father, you liked to read and was very well educated, but beyond that only quiet. You did not ride, or hunt, or keep an army of ladies around her.

For the latter, he was grateful, but for the others… It seemed you didn’t have anything in common. Harwin was as educated as a future lord needed to be, but he preferred to train and hunt. The first time he even heard you speak outside of her vows was to his brother.

“A gift, for the bride.” He said, offering you a book. At that, your face lit up.

“Thank you, Lord Larys.”

“I hear you tried to become a Maester once?” he asked, and you blushed.

“I was five and had not yet realized the Citadel accepted neither women nor children.”

Harwin smiled to himself. It seemed that, at the very least, you had some spirit. When his brother had left, he tried to find something to talk to you about.

“So, what topics interest you?” he tried.

“History and medicine.” you replied curtly.

“Yes, I imagine Aegon’s conquest is an interesting read.” He said. You tried to suppress a smile at that, and Harwin raised a brow.

“Is it not?” he asked.

“Forgive me, my lord, but every child is told the story of his conquest over and over. The histories of Old Valyria before the Doom and Nymeria’s conquest are much more interesting, especially since so much source material has been lost.” you said.

He could tell that you weren’t asked about these things very often, the words spilling out of your mouth so quickly.

“What about you?” you asked.

“Hunting and fighting.” He replied.

“Does that not get boring after a while?”

“It is to me what reading is to you.” Harwin said. He knew you were from the Westerlands, where people spoke more eloquently, and though he was from the Riverlands and had no use for flowery words, he tried for you.

Your silence returned when dessert was served. You dreaded the bedding, and Harwin didn’t think he had seen many brides that were as terrified of it as you.

When it was announced that the bedding would begin, you turned even paler. Before the lords attending could swoop in to grab you, Harwin quickly scooped you up into his arms. Wordlessly, he left, as the crowd let out disappointed shouts of protest.

He carried you all the way to their new, shared chambers, setting you down on the bed. Turning around, Harwin grabbed the pitcher of wine to fill up their glasses. You would need it for your nerves.

As he turned back around, he could see you lying on the bed, the skirt of your wedding dress hiked up to your thighs and staring at the ceiling stiff as a board. He would have laughed at the comical sight, if he hadn’t felt sorry for you.

Instead, he sat at the edge of the bed, gently taking your hand.

“What were you told about the bedding?” he asked.

“My cousin told me it was painful, but my duty.” you replied.

“Sit up.” Harwin said, and you scrambled to follow his words, pulling the skirt back down.

“Your cousin must have a horrible husband.” He concluded.

“They- they do not value each other much.” you said carefully.

“Beddings don’t have to be painful.” Harwin began. He’d never been a woman’s first before, but he wasn’t inexperienced by any means.

“Oh.” Was all you said to that. It sounded more like a sigh of relief than a question.

“Did you not say you studied medicine?”

“The bedding was… seen as unseemly for me. It was forbidden.” you replied.

“I’ll be gentle, I won’t hurt you.” Harwin promised. Still, when he tried to come closer to you, you leaned away from him, trying to keep the distance. As if a kiss would kill you.

With a sigh, Harwin grabbed the dagger from his belt and your eyes widened even more.

“What…?” you asked.

“I won’t force you.” He replied simply, rolling his sleeve back.

“No.” you said, grabbing his wrist. It was the first time you touched him. “I- We have to someday. And I’d like to learn. I need to make my father proud.”

“Your father? This is about you.” Harwin tried. You gave him a half-hearted smile, and Harwin felt that he wouldn’t become friends with his father-in-law.

“If you want me to bed you, you should start by kissing me first.” He said, and you nodded.

“Will I be your first?” he asked. You blushed, lowering her gaze, and Harwin carefully tipped her face up.

“Good. Less pressure.” He joked.

“I suppose so.” you replied. “I promise, it wasn’t while we were betrothed.”

“And if it was, I wouldn’t blame you. Whoever he, or she, was they got lucky.”

You smiled at that, blushing due to his compliment rather than shame. With a determined look in your eyes, you put a hand on his face, pressing your lips to his. It wasn’t the chaste kiss they had shared in the sept, and it wasn’t heated with passion, but it was more than the trembling leaf of a woman that had sit next to him at her own banquet.

Harwin deepened the kiss carefully, his hands finding your intricate braids, impossible to tangle into. So he held you by the small of her back instead, kissing you until you broke apart for air.

“That was… dizzying.” you said. Your cheeks were flushed pink, and your pupils had grown dark, and Harwin could feel desire begin to grow for you. Carefully, he seated himself against the cushions, sitting you down in front of him, and beginning to take out the pins in your updo.

While he worked on the tight braidwork, he began to kiss up and down your neck, careful not to go too low too fast. You let out a satisfied sigh, clapping your hand against your mouth afterwards.

“They’re all gone by now. We were too boring, I suppose.” Harwin joked, and you nodded.

“You don’t have to keep quiet.” He encouraged. “It tells me whether I’m doing the right thing.”

“Oh?” you asked.

“Trust me.”

When he was done, your hair fell down your back in soft waves. Harwin briefly wondered if it was because of the braids, or if your hair was always like this.

Then, he moved onto your wedding dress. It was laced in the back, gold and cream embroidery hiding the strings, and you began to tense when he opened them.

“It’ll be more comfortable if you can breathe properly.” Harwin said, slowly pulling the stiff part of the dress over your head. The long skirt followed, until you were left in a thin shift. It looked like it was meant to entice him, barely transparent enough to see your shape, but nothing beyond that.

Harwin took his time laying the dress over a chair in the room, returning with the pitcher of wine. When he offered to refill your glass, you shook your head.

“I’ll be drunk then. I want to remember for the next time.”

“Already planning ahead?” Harwin teased.

“I don’t know. In case this time doesn’t get me pregnant.”

“You do know there’s more to this than getting pregnant, right?” he asked. You raised a brow, as if you did not believe him. “It’s… it’s supposed to be fun as well.”

“Can we start with kissing again?” you asked shyly. Harwin leaned over, kissing you softly. Your hands were unsure, cupping his face, roaming around his hair and awkwardly landing on his arms. Harwin readjusted them, putting one on his jaw and the other on his shoulder the way he liked it.

He really tried to hold back, but when you let another whine slip, he grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap. You squealed, surprised, but once you were there, you continued with more enthusiasm than before.

Breaking the kiss, Harwin saw that your lips had become a little swollen. Mindlessly, he tucked a strand of hair back to where it had fallen out of place.

“I’m ready.” you said, lying back against the pillows with a look of determination on your face. Harwin snorted.

“You are not. If I do it now, it’ll hurt. Have you ever even touched yourself?”

Your mouth fell open at that, as if he was accusing you of fucking a horse, and your blush took ahold of your ears as well.

“I’m only asking to make you comfortable.”

“Never… inside.” you managed.

Harwin nodded, making his way down your body until he reached the hem of your shift. Gently, he began to pull it up and automatically, your legs crossed over.

When he tried to pry them open, you pulled away.

“I have had my maidenhead inspected.” you said, voice high-pitched.

“I wasn’t inspecting anything. Just… trust me on this.” Harwin asked.

It took you a moment, but eventually, you opened your legs back up, allowing him access. Harwin knew better than to stare (for now), and began kissing the inside of your thighs, making his way towards your cunt. When he finally tasted it, he felt like he was ready to die – until his lady wife scrambled backwards, trying to gather her bearings.

“This is wrong. It’s sinful.” you whispered.

“Not really. Asked my septon when I was a boy, and also, it feels good.” Harwin replied nonchalantly.

“I’ll take you by your word.” you said seriously.

You lied back down, and Harwin held your thighs, trying to make a squeeze somehow feel reassuring before he started again, slowly lapping up the wetness your cunt had produced. He could feel you writhe beneath him, but better yet, he could hear you moan.

Muffled pants and cries reached him, spurring him on. Very cautiously, he pushed in one finger, continuing to lick your clit to ease the way. It went in easier than he thought, and so, Harwin crooked it to make you feel even better.

He wanted to be your first in this as well, and he didn’t care if that was greedy.

He had to push you down by the stomach when your back arched. Harwin chuckled to himself as he worked the finger inside you, knowing exactly what he was doing.

After a while, he could feel your body begin to shake, and your legs wrapped around his head, pushing him down. He almost felt proud of you, even as he began to run out of air, but Harwin kept going, until you came, licking you like a starving man.

When you went limp under his touch, Harwin dared to come up from under your shift.

“And?” he asked.

“Whatever that was… I think I caught a glimpse of the Seven Heavens.” you sighed.

“You… came.” He replied, half-asking.

“Yeah. It was wonderful.”

“Did you never?”

“No. I didn’t dare.” you said.

“That’s a pity, to go so many years of your life without pleasure.”

“I see that now.” you quipped, and Harwin laughed with you.

You sat in silence for a while, you leaning against his shoulder with your eyes closed. Harwin felt that he was hard for you, but he didn’t want to disturb you. He could bed you some other time.

Sated with the knowledge that he had already done this for you, Harwin took off his wedding suit and changed into the long linen trousers that were laid out for him. He could feel your eyes burn into his back. Just to tease you (and not at all to inflate his ego), he flexed his back- and arm muscles.

He settled back into bed, staring at you until you realized you had been caught.

“Does my lady wife approve?”

“Mhm.” you mumbled, shamelessly staring at his chest. “I want another.”

“Another?” Harwin asked.

“Bed me. Make me feel like that again.” you mumbled through gritted teeth. Hesitantly, you let her hand wander under the blankets and into his trousers. His cock was still hard from before, and your eyes widened as you felt the girth of it.

“How will it fit?” you asked.

“You managed two fingers. I’ll help you work it out, but there’ll still be a small stretch.” Harwin tried.

Your hand was still frozen on his dick, so he carefully guided it to stroke him. All word about you rang true, you were a good learner.

Harwin closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall to concentrate on the sensation for a moment, before he stopped you.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Please.” you replied. There was still a residue of nervousness in your eyes, but Harwin wasn’t going to say no to such an invitation.

Slowly, he pulled your shift over her head, tossing it aside carelessly. For a moment, he could only stare, causing you to cross your arms over your chest.

“You’re beautiful.” Harwin said breathlessly. He wasn’t used to being gentle, but Gods be damned, he’d try for you.

Taking his pants off again, he began to kiss your tits, lavishly sucking more bruises into your perfect skin. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him down towards you, and Harwin tried to suppress a groan.

“Good?” you asked.

“Yeah. Really good.” Harwin replied. Your response was to lightly tug his curls, a smirk on your lips. He kissed you again, this time forgetting everything about gentleness and going slowly, swallowing your sounds up with a kiss, desperately holding your face with his hands, dwarfing it in comparison.

His thumb stroked your cheek, trying to convey the awe he already held for you, and you raked your hands through his hair in response. His resolve was melting by the second.

Carefully, he angled his dick up with your cunt, teasing your clit with the tip for a moment, before he slowly sank into you. One of your hands landed on his hips, and Harwin froze.

“Are you alright?” he asked. You stared up at him, wide-eyed, before you nodded.

“Just need a moment.” you managed. Excruciatingly slowly, Harwin sank in further, waiting for you to adjust, until he was fully inside you.

“Can I…?” Harwin began. You nodded, and he pulled back, before thrusting forward with as much self-control as he possessed. He expected you to cry out in pain, but instead, you met him with an unabashed moan.

“Fuck.” you panted, before catching yourself.

“I don’t believe you’ve sworn before.” Harwin managed. You opened your mouth to say something, but he thrust again and your answer was swallowed by another moan.

He tried to put all of his newfound devotion into his thrusts, to make you happy. To satisfy you, so that you would not grow to despise him, at the very least in this way.

All of his intentions of being slow and loving disappeared when you began to beg.

“Please, I need more.” you whispered. Even through the dim candlelight, Harwin saw you blush, but who was he to deny you?

So he picked up the pace, his thrusts turning almost brutish. He would have worried for you, if your eyes hadn’t been in the back of your skull, and your nails weren’t digging into his back.

“Fuck, you’re so.. didn’t expect this.” Harwin managed. You gave him a laugh, which immediately turned into a wanton moan under his ministrations.

“My pretty little wife, legs open only for me.” He praised. Harwin felt your legs wrap around his hips, desperate to create more friction, more intensity.

“Only for you.” You repeat, and Harwin can see the change in your expression, from tense to relaxed. Your posture is open to him (in more ways than one) and his heart almost sings at the thought that you might not despise him or be terrified of him after all.

Harwin manages to steady his mind into looking at you, and Gods, you look fucking angelic. Hair splayed out like a halo, mouth parted and face contorted in pleasure, trying so, so hard to keep your long-lost composure. Nothing feels more right than trying to break that composure, to make you melt into his arms even more.

To give up any thought of propriety and be his.

His thoughts run wild, his heart pounding in his chest with crazed abandon and he can feel himself coming close to the edge. He searches for the bundle of nerves between your legs, hoping to make you scream and when he finds it, it works so well he’s worried the entire Red Keep will hear you after all.

Desperately, he begins to rut into you, watching all coherent thoughts disappear from your eyes as he brings you over the edge a second time. Only then does he allow himself to cum, grabbing your hips harshly until he, too, is spent.

Suddenly exhausted, he rolls off of you, lying next to you and only grabbing your hand.

He turns to face you after a while, you doing the same. Your eyes meet and a smile appears on your flushed face.

“My body feels like it’s filled with lead.” You whisper.

“My lady wife. I never knew I could get this lucky.” He replies. Harwin got out of the bed, trying to find a washcloth. For once, you did not ask any questions, eyes closed in bliss. You let him wipe off the remainder of his seed, burrowing into his side as he lies down next to you.

“You are mine.” You whisper, hearing him chuckle at your words.

“Indeed. I swore it before the Seven just this morning.”

“I think I’m falling in love with you, Ser Harwin.” You sigh.

“So am I, my love.” He replies.

#harwin #harwin strong #ser harwin strong #harwin x reader #ser harwin x reader #harwin strong x reader #ser harwin strong x reader #ser harwin strong fanfic #harwin strong smut #ser harwin breakbones x reader #harwin breakbones x reader #harwin x you #harwin smut #ser harwin x you #harwin strong x y/n #harwin strong fanfic

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loutino94 · 2 years

Photo

They are the same picture. Period Milly with Ryan vs Emma with Ryan

#he makes them laugh #harwin strong #ser harwin strong #rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon #ryan corr #emma darcy #milly alcock #my gifs #they love him

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50shadesofrossi · 2 years

Text

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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nicetoseesofttotouch · 2 years

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“every woman is an image of the mother, to be spoken of with reverence”

Ser INCEL Cole

#house of the dragon #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #got #ser harwin strong #crispin cole #ser criston cole #aegon the older #aegon ii targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #larys strong #otto hightower #alicent hightower #aemond targaryen

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into-a-very-large-dog · 2 years

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The sexiest thing Harwin said was at the end of the argument with his father, something like "I have my own idea of honor"

And you know what it is ???

His idea of honor is staying beside the woman he loves, no matter what, no matter the risks. It's raising and passing on his values and loving his kids even if they don't know that he is their father. It's loving Rhaenyra and their three boys silently. Harwin doesn't need any witness for his paternal love or good actions. He knows in his heart that staying with his family is honourable and no tradition, law or prejudice could convince him otherwise.

Crispin Coleslaw would never

#ser harwin strong #he's the best #hotd #house of the dragon #rhaenyra targaryen #harwin strong #jacerys velaryon #joffrey velaryon #lucerys velaryon

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carothehotmess · 2 years

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Rest in Peace to the icon, the legend, the greatest baby daddy and side piece to ever walk the Seven Kingdoms, Ser Harwin Strong

#hotd spoilers #hotd ep 6 #hotd thoughts #house of the dragon #hotd #harwin strong #ser harwin strong #rip to a legend #asoiaf #got

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bloomsbury · 2 years

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“...the princess would leave her husband with his lover on such nights, and seek her own solace in the arms of harwin strong...”

enjoy my rhaewin brainrot until the next episode <3

#resim mesim #rhaewin #hotd #rhaenyra x harwin #harwin x rhaenyra #harwin strong #ser harwin strong #rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon

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drakoneve · 1 year

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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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