#harwin fluff

I grow tense as flails his hand around.

"I have done nothing but exact your cumbersome and frivolous commands with patience!" He snaps, "and now that I've met my limit yet you have the gall to ask me if I am being serious!?!"

Gwayne's eyes are wide and clearer than the skies. His pointed stare is piercing and I cannot deflect it as he speaks to me of my unreasonableness. Admittedly, my requests were some meant to annoy him, but I did not expect him to act so acridly. I mean, surely he was accustomed to it by now. Was I truly becoming too much to bear for him?

His face is flushed with rage. I stare at him, unable to speak, for in truth I did not know how to meet his apparently genuine frustration.

"Oh," he scoffs, chuckles bubbling out his throat, "she does not speak, for there is nothing else true to say." He grips the carriage door, "what? Have you realized you do work me worse than your own employed servants? That you ask of me more than what I am required of?"

"But it is my right!" I pipe up, though my voice is still small, "you must accompany me wherever I so wander."

Gwayne's jaw feathers, "I am tasked to protect you from peril and to prevent you from doing the unwise," he steps back, "not to carry your clothes and hang them in your wardrobes!"

I stare at him, dread building in my stomach.

"What?!" he quips, "do you truly not see the brunt of my frustrations?"

"... I do not think it unreasonable to-" I gaps when he closes the door with unnecessary force before storming away.

In truth, the gesture was harsher than it needed to be and bothers me more than it should. There is a tightness to my chest as I slowly open the door and watch the man so readily forsake me. Against myself, my eyes begin to prick with tears.

"Gw-" I shut my mouth at the sound of my voice breaking. I chew my lower lip and take deep breaths to calm myself.

I did not mean to make him cross— not like that. I feel my throat tighten as I replay what just happened. Guilt eats at me more each second and soon salt cascades down my cheeks. I sit there until the coachman knocks and asks if we should away. I dismiss him and tell him I will stay here for a little while.

I don't. It feels like an hour passed of me trying not to cry, crying, and calming myself. I start when someone knocks on my carriage door.

"My Lady Lannister?" a deep voice speaks, making me wipe my face in a panic.

I try to stifle my sniffle and use my skirt to dry my tears.

"Tis Ser Harwin Strong. You cannot leave your carriage here."

I clear my throat, but my voice still betrays me with a crack, "ap-ologies. I will have it m-" but my coachman is not here. I sigh and stare at my lap. My lips wobble as helplessness creeps up on me.

A prolonged moment of silence ensues before the man outside speaks again, "my lady... are you well?"

I huff and concede to simply opening the door.

I wipe my philtrum on my sleeve and feel twice as dreadful as I see the dark haired and bearded man outside my carriage. He is a beauty. His blue eyes narrow in concern, "my lady."

I shake my head and gather my skirts.

He instinctively reaches out a hand to me and assists me as I exit my ride. Once I am stood before him, I realize just how tall and broad he is. His brows tighten as he releases my hand. I offer him a smile, "I beg your pardon for the inconvenience. I do not have anyone to move the carriage."

Ser Harwin shakes his head, "one of the stable boys can move it." He turns over his shoulder and hollers for someone to do just that. A boy approaches us, nodding politely before climbing up the driver's seat to do what was instructed of him.

My stomach rolls when the towering man looks back at me. His demeanor is starkly juxtaposed to his stature. He ghosts a hand on my shoulder and raises an arm. He leads me off to the side and speaks softly, "is there anything I can assist you with, my lady?"

I shake my head, "I am well."

He nods and clutches his hands once we find ourselves standing just by the entrance of the Keep, "forgive me, but as a guard of the City Watch, it is my duty to uphold justice. I cannot stand idle in the face of trickery."

My brows quirk at his words. I tilt my head, "do you call me a liar, ser?"

"Yes," he answers simply.

My lips part as his brazen admission.

"True, it is not uncommon for one to weep with joy, but I recognize the distress laid upon your brow," he shakes his head, "would it not be simpler for you to say you require nothing of me than to pretend you are well?"

His words make me choke. I feel my eyes begin to fog with tears.

Ser Harwin's face falls. He raises his hands, "forgive me. I only meant-"

"No," I mumble, "you are right. I injure myself! I speak before I think and create inconveniences for entertainment." I scratch my tears away before they can fall. I look up to the man, feeling dread bite at me. I resist my instinct to slip further into my emotions and try to speak as evenly as possible, "the truth is... I had a... disagreement with my ward... we always get into disagreements, but... this time it was visceral."

The man shifts on his leg, "might I ask what the disagreement was over?"

"He says I work him like a dog, that I ask much more than what he ought to do," I sniffle, "and... perhaps it is true," I evade his gaze by turning to the sky. My lips quiver, "but I did not realize my presence was so heavily insufferable." I look back at him, "I am easy on the eyes, am I not?"

The man chuckles softly, "your features are quite comely indeed, Lady Lannister."

I nod once, "that is the only correct response, ser."

A rich chuckle fills the space between us. He hums and raises a hand, "have you expressed your orders were mere reasons to keep his company?"

My expression drops at his words. I laugh but it goes dry when I realize he spoke no jest. "Ser, my ward is Gwayne Hightower. He loathes me just as I loathe him."

"And do you normally weep for your enemies?" he tilts his head.

"I weep because he regards me so cruelly!" I snap in defense, "it is most twisted for one as he to raise his voice and show aggression to one such as I!"

Ser Harwin sighs.

I wipe my philtrum, feeling my body tremble with a mix of emotions.

"What was this errand you needed to be chaperoned to?"

I gulp as I bring my hands to my hips. I debate the sincerity of his words and decide he does not have the face of a man who would use my words against me. I huff, "the tailor's. I was to have a new dress made for me for-"

His brows quirk at my abrupt halt.

I feel blood rush up my neck, but I decide to ignore it and speak with as much scorn as I could muster, "Gwayne's nameday celebration."

I observe him carefully, ready to pounce and pound him if he so wishes to berate me for the honest admission. In truth, I am taken aback by the curtness of his reply. He nods and offers me an arm, "if it pleases you, I can accompany you to the tailor myself. I have finished my patrol and have nothing better to do."

My eyes dart from the curls framing his face to his meaty arm. My lips part as I find the words to say, "would you... rather not rest for the day?"

"My honor would not allow me after beholding a lady in her distress."

I stare at his arm for a few seconds and cautiously take it.

A good while passed until Gwayne returned to the stables to find his irritating lady. When he sees the Lannister carriage parked, he sighs and marches over, preparing himself to meet the rage of the woman that was still sitting inside in protest.

"Will you sleep-" he starts but stops when he opens the door to nothing. He raises a brow and closes the door. His attention falls on the passing servant, "you. Where is the lady of this carriage?"

The man looks at him then the carriage.

"Lady Lannister," Gwayne clarrifies.

He perks in recognition, "the lady Lannister and ser Strong headed to the tailor on horseback."

"On horseback," the knight scoffs in disbelief, "Lady Lannister?" his voice fades into a laugh. And he so enjoys himself laughing for a moment before sighing, "why, I applaud the good ser for his powers of persuasion."

Upon realizing that he no longer needed to be here, Gwayne grins and nods at him, "thank you my good man. Your news has made my day."

With that he walks off and heads to his quarters.

The next day, Gwayne has a spring to his step as he heads down the hall.

I am in the middle of having my hair fixed when I hear a knock on my door. I look at the reflection from the mirror before me, "come in."

I behold Gwayne and his grin as he struts towards my bed. He leaps into it, landing on his chest. He instructs one of my servants to get him a cup of wine. Each of these things would normally be cause to chew him up; all of these combined would make me unleash upon him the wrath due to his impertinence, and yet, I find myself uncaring of his blatant misbehavior. I merely instruct my servant to fetch the sapphire necklace that match my velvet dress and sit tight by my vanity.

Gwayne takes the wine that is served to him and sips before speaking out, "I hear Lord Harwin Strong was he who accompanied you to town yesterday."

I ignore him in lieu of twirling the baby hairs by my ears.

"And on horseback, no less," he takes another sip, "how ever did he get you to ride a horse by yourself?"

"I didn't," I turn to my servant who returns with my jewels, "we rode on the same horse."

Gwayne stills. He scrunches his face at the cup in his hand then looks at me, "what?"

I smile at myself on the mirror as the necklaces is clasped around my neck. I adjust the blue stone that sparkled between my collarbones and admire the look of it.

He sits up from the bed, careful not to spill his drink, "you rode the same horse?"

"Of course we rode the same horse," I roll my eyes, "he is not a fool who expects me to enjoy such sport."

The red haired man raises his brows. He waits for me to expound further, but finds I am distracted by my reflection. He scoffs, sipping again more before saying, "I pity the steed."

I grin at myself, pleased with my image.

"I pity the steed," he repeats, "that had to carry a knight, a brat, and her hundred dresses."

My eyes dart to him. He is already looking at me from the mirror. "He did not ride with me on the way back. He is not cruel like you."

"So he walked?" his forehead curls, "and on the way back, no less." He scoffs once more before drinking again, "well, the tailor is not that far."

I inspect my attire one last time before standing and heading to the bed. Gwayne lifts his eyes; the corner of his lips soon follow. He shifts on his spot and drinks deeply.

"You are dismissed, Hightower."

He licks his lips as his brows furrow, "what?"

I tilt my head and clasp my hands together, "you do so love making sport of me repeating myself."

Gwayne pulls his head back before standing. He lifts his nearly empty cup, "are you saying you— you have no plans for the day?" He purses his lips, "no errands you wish to force upon my being."

I clench my teeth but manage to pull a smile. Gwayne finds such endearment in the forced grins, not that he would ever admit so. I nod in agreement.

"So," he holds his cup with both hands, "I am free to do what I will for the day."

"Even more so to do it as far away from me as possible," I raise my hands before walking towards him to push him out of my room.

The man chuckles as he finishes what is left of his wine. He manages to hand the empty cup to one of the servants just before we both step out of the room. He licks his lips and tilts his head at me.

The smile that spreads on his face makes my stomach roll and I combat it with a glare, "do not wait on me. I will be promenading with a friend."

"Promenade?" he chuckles. The lines on his cheek remain as he raises his brow. He looks me once over, eyes lingering on the sapphire on my décolletage, "and pray tell, who in the Keep has merited the friendship of someone so high-nosed as you?"

"Ser Harwin Strong."

His grin falters.

I do not care to wonder why as I walk off and meet the man I named in the gardens as we had arranged.

Gwayne watches. He is left alone in the corridor. He chuckles to himself and heads off to the library to unwind. The closer he inched to his destination however, the more sour the taste in his mouth became. Before he even comes near the library, he finds himself marching off to look for gods knows what he'll find.

And it seems the gods do want him to find the source of his sourness. As he marched down one stairwell, he heard an unmistakable sound of laughter that made his ears perk. He heads to the hall and looks out the window.

There, he sees a man stood in front of a woman sat upon a bench, both of them giggling and both of them in blue. His eye twitches as the dark haired fool carelessly picks a flower from a bush and offers it to her.

Gwayne finds no relief when she does not take it, for instead it seems she instructed him to place the flower on the side of her hair.

"Ha," he scoffs, pulling away from the window, "promenade, says she? Ha!" Gwayne shakes his head as his feet take him back towards the library, "neither of them are walking. HA!"

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."

I raise my brows, "nay," I set my spoon down, "my meal is simply so scrumptious that I cannot contain myself."

Gwayne releases a breath. I watch him as he reaches for his teacup. He looks as though he's using all the muscles in his body to withhold an eye roll. He takes a sip; the heat of the tea leaves his lips ruddy.

I watch him set his floral cup down. I watch him as he leans back on his chair. When did his get that long? The locks by his temples go past his cheeks now. A line forms on his face when I stare too long. I avert my gaze to my own teacup. The milkiness of his face is reflected in my drink. My stomach churns.

"So-" "How-"

We look at each other after speaking at the same time. I open my mouth, meaning to tell him to go first, but he cuts me off and simply speaks, "how is Breakbones?"

Offence latches on my being. How ill-mannered of him not to even feign the courtesy of allowing me to speak first. Irritation springs forth, so I quip, "what?"

Gwayne scoops some honey and stirs it into his tea. He licks what remained on the silverware.

I avoid his eyes as he does so.

"Your whereabouts have not gone unnoticed by me," he says dryly, "I am aware that you have since been accompanied by Breakbones to the market more than once."

A horrid scowl finds my features, "and just who is this foul creature?"

Gwayne's expression falls until my scowl is reflected on him. His jaw sets, "I can assure you; you have already wholly vexed me this morn; you needn't feign ignorance to add to it."

"But I am not acquainted to this brute who breaks bones," I hiss, "and I need not feign something which comes easy for me."

He realizes then that I was sincere in my own vexation when I heatedly continue.

"Your delusions of my character will not bleed into reality, Ser." I pointedly raise a brow, "whichever part of my body you think would associate with such people who garner such names would surely rather strike your cheek."

He furrows his brows as he tilts his head, "yet it seems you are ignorant to the fact Breakbones is your beloved City Watch commander."

My brows furrow. I am silent for a moment before speaking, "Ser Harwin?"

He scoffs out a chuckle, "oh, yes," he takes a sip of his tea, "the brute with such a name is the one you have extended such warm amity to as of late."

A moment of concern and even alarm floods me. But it is fleeting the next moment, and my expression falls. I huff. A pit grows in my stomach, "how acrid and crude."

Gwayne's brows quirk as he gulps his tea. The manner in which his lips curl pierce through my belly in the most unpleasant of ways.

"I am well aware that you and I have never met eye to eye, that you disagree with my interest in beautiful things-"

His expression slips.

"-but your want to deter me of my only companion here is repellent, even for one as you."

Companion? Gwayne's blood rises just as I from my seat across him, "such as I?"

"Such as you!" I maintain, chucking my table napkin onto my half-finished plate.

"I see your unfeigned ignorance has made you callous to my efforts to please you," he words harshly, slowly rising from his seat.

"But it is not your work to please me!" I snap, "your work is to keep me safe!"

"From library books?!" he raises his voice, "from cakes and dresses? What is your danger in King's Landing when not only do a thousand guards reside within these walls, but your own lord brother is seated upon the council of the king?"

My nostrils flare at his words. I decide to maintain my dignity by forfeiting my response. I gather my skirts and flee him.

He releases an irritated laugh, "oh, how very like of you!"

"Do not wait. I have errands to accomplish."

"Ha! Do accomplish them well with your beloved Breakbones."

I storm away from him. I storm and storm until my face rains. It annoys me how my breath shortens and how my throat constricts. I run off to my chambers and dismiss any ready servants there. I crumble to my bed and wring out my melancholy.

The letter I received late last night calls to me from my vanity. I sigh and reach out to it. I slide down my bed and will the contents of the letter to change.

It does not work. The words are as clear as they were last night underneath my lamp, if not clearer now in afternoon shine.

Highgarden would be honored to receive Lady Lannister. House Tyrell presently prepares its home in hopes it will be hers in the apparent future.

I rip the parchment to shreds, as if its riddance would destroy the reality it held.

It does not.

It comforts me, nonetheless.

I wash my face and reapply rogue before exiting my chambers. I begin to walk off but freeze when I see Gwayne at the end of the hallway. He does nothing. He says nothing.

I turn the other way.

I find myself heading to the guard's quarters, where I soon learned Ser Harwin was not. A guard informs me that he was in the training grounds, and so I promptly make my way there.

The moment Harwin catches the golden glint upon my head, he is distracted. He pays less attention to his pupils, offering me a smile and nod in regard. Soon, when I am close enough, he says a quick word before abandoning his post altogether.

Harwin struts up to me with another smile and nod, "my lady Lannister."

My heart swells at his kind regard, a stark contrast of Gwyane, "lord Strong."

"You must forgive my state," he wipes the sweat dripping from his temple, "an hour remains of our session, then I will be free to accompany you to the baker's today," he assures. He smiles but it quickly disappears as he adds, "after I wash and change, of course."

I press my lips tightly together, yet it does not contain my giggle.

Harwin crosses his arms at the sound, his own lips unable to contain his own giggle.

"I am in no hurry, commander," I clasp my hands together, "feel free to ignore me until you are ready."

He walks backward, "I pray you do not require me to do something impossible."

I chuckle at the sentiment, but I roll my eyes. I sit myself on a crate nearby and watch as the man instructs his pupils. He demonstrates the proper handling of a sword and strikes the dummy. For a moment, I think of Gwayne training.

Then suddenly, I remember our argument and find myself calling out, "break bones."

I watch as Harwin turns to me.

I flatten my skirts on my lap but do speak any further.

"You call, my lady?"

I straighten my back, slightly taken aback that he responded, and shake my head, "never mind."

Harwin does not think twice on it. He continues with his lesson.

Watching him teach was... titillating. His voice was rich and sure, his actions more so, and his demeanor was truly that of a commander. More and more, I thought of 'break bones' and continued to convince myself that this was not him. Soon, I was not enslaved to my thoughts and became thoroughly entertained by Harwin's instruction. It was almost a shame that the hour passed as quickly as it did.

Harwin quickly comes to me, announcing he will not take long to tidy up, then leaves just as quickly. Unable to help myself, I decide to ask a guard about this break bones fellow. Before I can even ask if that man was truly his commander, he's already droning about See Harwin Strong. Before he could finish, the said man was beside me, face and locks slightly damp.

Harwin and I make our way to the stables after and I immediately start, "I did not realize you had quite a reputation."

I watch my feet peak out from beneath my dress as we leisurely make our way to his steed. Harwin, with his hands behind him, turns to me with a quirked brow, "and what reputation might that be?"

"Breakbones," I look up.

He simply stares.

"I thought Gwayne thought it up to deter me from your companionship."

He purses his lip, "...does it?"

I give him an incredulous look, "perhaps if I had known it before I knew you. I was testing the name on you. I did not expect you to respond."

"Is it very ill-fitting?"

"Yes," I speak immediately. I tilt my head, "you are very gentle."

He laughs. It is quiet but hard enough that he must clutch his gut and take a moment to gather himself.

Though it was not like him to mock me, I could not help but feel perhaps that in this moment he was. A frown finds me.

I think of Gwayne and his condescending laughter. My chest tightens.

He breathes in deeply before finally calming. Harwin notices my dejected demeanor and it wipes the grin off his face, "forgive me. I laugh only because I have not yet been called gentle in earnest."

It does not rid my frown.

"It pleases me," he mutters.

I stop in my tracks when he reaches for my hand. My pulse quickens when he takes and lifts it.

"I am glad to appear as such to you," he speaks carefully, blue eyes locked on mine. He presses a chaste kiss at the back of my hand. He maintains his hold until we are in front of his horse.

Harwin helps me up the brown stallion. He maintains a respectable hold and even fixes my dress as I seat myself. I look down at him and his smile. I nod, indicating that he can now climb up.

He shakes his head, lips still curled upright, "I do not think it wise for me to ride with you today."

I furrow my brows, "why ever not?"

Harwin takes the reins of his horse, "well, I fear my hasty washing was not enough."

I roll my eyes, "I-"

"And I desire to uphold the gentle nature you recognize in me." Harwin begins to walk.

"I do not understand."

He snorts lightly, "I fear my softness will not remain if I ride behind you."

My brows only furrow deeper.

Harwin catches this and chuckles. He mumbles under his breath, "the lioness is but a kitten."

"I heard that."

He raises a hand, "a jest. An innocent jest."

I spent a good part of the afternoon scrutinizing cakes and frosting, meticulously ordering the perfect assortment to be delivered to me tomorrow.

By the time Harwin and I were back in the Keep, I could tell that he was worn, not only from being made a taste tester against his will, but also from walking back and forth.

Another image of Gwayne flashes in my mind. Guilt and dread threaten to spill from my lips.

Harwin helps me down his steed and softly smiles once I am stood before him. My heart stings at his drowsy expression. My forehead curls as I reach for his cheek, "you have been most patient and kind."

His face perks at my touch.

"I am most grateful," I brush his curls away from his face, "I would not have been able to accomplish what I have today without you."

Harwin straightens when I pull away, seemingly reinvigorated.

"Forgive me if my meticulousness cost us a longer trip than expected."

He chuckles and shakes his head, "you award me more credit than I am due. It is an honor to witness the care you put into your gifts."

I watch him as he leads the horse into the stable. Harwin continues once he's walking back towards me, "I am sure Gwayne's nameday will be heartfelt, knowing his lady took great measures to prepare her gifts for him."

The thought makes me want to pull my hair out. I sigh and simply walk off.

Harwin's expression falls. He follows after me, "is something wrong?"

I watch my shoes peak from beneath my skirt with my steps. I turn to him when he calls me by my name. Harwin has a look of concern upon him. I comb the tips of my golden hair in agitation, "I... do not wish his nameday to come."

A line forms between his brows.

I sigh, "surely you are aware that my move to King's Landing was to secure myself a husband."

Harwin did, in fact, not know this, but does not have the chance to say so.

"My brother says the only house interested in me is that of the Tyrells."

His brows quirk. A doubtful thought.

"I did not..." I turn to the ground, "think my demeanor so odious that I am able to attract but one marriage proposal. Surely my family name weighs more than that."

The thought makes Harwin's forehead curl.

"I am not due to leave for Highgarden until the next moon, but I figured if it pleases Gwayne, I would set him free on his nameday. Another gift for him."

Harwin frowns, "do you not think your decision rash?"

"Rational, perhaps."

He does not seem to like my resolve on the matter, and yet he does not press any further. The rest of our walk is silent, and soon we are in the hall to my chambers.

Both Harwin and I slow at the sight of Gwyane standing attention at my door. He shifts in his spot, turning to us. When we reach him, I notice the way his jaw feathers.

The auburn haired man lifts his nose slightly, "Breakbones."

Harwin nods, "ser Hightower."

"How kind of you to return the lioness to her den," he turns to me, pale blue eyes ripping into my flesh, "I do hope she did not bare her teeth and claws too much."

Harwin raises a brow, "her company is most welcome, teeth and claw included."

I turn to Harwin. He smiles at me. Gwayne watches. His blood curdles.

"She tells me tomorrow is your nameday," Harwin looks to Gwayne, "what plans have you made to celebrate?"

"Whatever my lady has planned for me," he chuckles dryly. His begins to turn red in the face.

My brows furrow, "worry not, Gwayne. There shall be no errands to attend to on the morrow."

"How magnanimous," he smiles, or rather sneers, "your commander seems to need the day off. See how worn you've made him."

"Enough," I quip.

"Agreed," he blurts, "you should retire," he motions with his head, "I will treat the man to some wine," he turns to Harwin, "and perhaps he will the same, as a nameday treat."

Harwin nods, "perhaps on your nameday itself. I have an evening patrol I must cover."

Gwayne's nostrils flare, "unfortunate."

With that, I thank Harwin for accompanying me and head inside my chambers.

Gwayne places a hand on Harwin's shoulder, leading him down the hall, "I must express my appreciation for lightening my load as of late."

"My duty is to serve, but it is a pleasure to do so for the lady Lannister."

Gwayne pulls his hand away then brings both behind him, "I'm sure for one who is daily surrounded by sweaty men, it truly is."

Harwin does not respond. They continue walking down the hall.

"I am glad to know she did not forget my nameday and neither of us will need to be worked by her tomorrow."

Harwin gives a lopsided smile, "if it comes down to it, ser, I will do any work she may require of you in your stead."

Gwayne's face twitches but he expertly covers it up with a low chuckle, "oh, how good. Do not deny me then if it happens."

The two men part ways at the end of the hallway. Gwayne heads for his chambers, feeling irritated and suffocated. He bathes but it does not soothe him as much as he hoped. The next morning, he wakes up groggy and attempts to bathe it away, but the water was as ineffective as the night before.

He gets dressed and makes his way to the solar. He stops in his tracks when he hears the ruckus from inside. It doesn't take him long to recognize the voices, which is why he decides to enter and interrupt the argument taking place inside.

I gasp softly at the sound of the door opening. The sight of Gwayne's concerned expression only makes the tears from my eyes spill further.

Tyland turns to him. He does not mask his ire, which is why he does not greet him. My brother simply quips, "you will not leave her today."

Gwayne turns from my brother to me. It takes a moment before he realizes it was an order, "of course, my Lord."

The master of coin sighs and heads for the door. Before leaving, he raises a hand, "a servant will come to deliver your nameday gift tonight or tomorrow. Lannisport has been overflowing as of late, but I was assured your delivery will be swift."

Gwayne nods, "you have my thanks."

Tyland leaves after this, and Gwayne walks over to me.

I pull away before he can touch me. I lean towards the table and push the assortment of cakes towards him, "you will not need to steal my sweeties today, ser."

I walk towards the window, turning my back on him, uncomfortable with the idea of the man seeing me in disarray. He is insensitive to this and follows after me. I move away, but he does not relent.

"You need not tend to me!" I snap, strands of gold sticking to wet cheeks. I brush my hair away and helplessly point to the table, "there is a box on your chair. Tend to it! I have no use of you."

Gwayne pulls his head back. The sentiment stung, but he decides not to take offence. He cannot, not with the red eyes staring back at him. He decides to walk off and head for his usual chair.

Sure enough, a smallish wooden box tied in a red velvet bow rests on the cushion. He sets it down on the table before seating himself. He turns to me then back at the box. He undoes the bow and opens it. He stares at it. His silence reads to me as disinterest.

"Gloves. Practical but stylish," I walk towards him. He turns to me as I pull the chair beside him. I sit down, taking one glove and the hand it belonged to.

Gwyane spares a moment to watch the red leather be slipped on him hand, the rest of his moments are spent observing the tear laced lashes before him.

After buttoning the glove in his wrist, he stretches his fingers, opening his closing his hand to test the fit. His eyes do not leave me as he does so, "it fits me perfectly."

"As it should," I say, reaching for the other, "I paid the artisan well for this."

He grabs my hand just before I can do that with his. I stare at the veins that run past his sleeves, "I am exhilarated by the knowledge the shape of my hands are known by you."

My lips part.

Had it been any other day, had the circumstances been different, I would have received that statement with offence, for it was one of clear mockery. Yet, with how his dimples vaguely made an appearance and how his lips pressed softly into a smile, it seemed... genuine.

And it seemed to make my heart skip.

I mutter, "I stole a pair of your gloves and had it fitted."

Gwayne chuckles.

My heart skips again.

"Clever girl," he releases my hand and removes the glove I put on him. He takes the ribbon on the table then turns to my hair, "red goes well with gold, wouldn't you agree?"

"... my hair is already made."

"You would be glad to know that I am skilled in unmaking it," he pulls my chair closer to him.

My body burns as he reaches for my curls. My hair was braided by the sides in a fashion I quite enjoyed; I did not enjoy the idea of him unmaking it.

"-just as I am skilled in braiding," Gwayne adds.

I knit my brows at the idea.

"Do not look so shocked," he chuckles, "my sister has as much hair as you, and I did not enjoy how it flew to my face when we were children."

Before I can speak, he grabs my shoulders and turns me away. He gathers my hair and my skin pricks at the feel of his fingers against my nape.

He is silent when he begins. I close my eyes and focus on the feeling of his light touch.

"I would braid Alicent's hair when she wept as well."

My eyes open. Oh.

"Thankfully, it was not a frequent occurrence."

I turn to my skirt.

"I do not tell you this to press you for answers," he softly clarifies, "merely to express how I think it comforted my sister... and how I wish to do the same for you."

I do not reply. My lips wobble.

"I was instructed not to leave your side today and I do not wish to add to whatever offense that could bring a lioness to tears."

I silently wipe my face.

Gwayne says nothing more after this, not until he finished braiding my hair.

He rests the braid on my shoulder. I inspect it, seeing he incorporated the ribbon into the pleats and even managed to make a small bow at the bottom. I look up at him. He frowns and reaches for my cheek, wiping my tears.

I take a deep breath to calm myself, "my brother received an offer for my hand."

Gwayne stills.

"Well," I turn to the box on the table, "he received multiple."

He leans on his elbow. He smiles, though against himself, "we came to King's Landing to find you a match, did we not?"

"It seems my brother has other plans," I mutter, "apparently Tyland means to use me as leverage for the crown. He wishes to wed me to the Tyrells so that he can have a firmer hold on Highgarden. Jason does not know this. He was led to believe I was simply going to King's Landing to purchase new dresses."

A line forms between his brows, "I presume Jason found out about Tyland's plot."

"Yes. Jason writes that I should put my dresses to good use and entertain any suitors that come to me whilst I am in King's Landing."

He nods curtly. He sighs and shrugs, "why the tears then? Does the idea of entertaining men upset you so?"

"..."

"..."

"... Tyland reminded me of what happened last time when I had many suitors at my beck and call."

Gwayne clenches his teeth. He rests his hand in front of me, "I swear on my life that no one will come close enough to take advantage of you again."

His hand itches to reach out, but he instead goes for the cakes, dragging it in front of him. He shoves a chocolate cake into his mouth and chews.

I watch him lick his lips. He notices how I lick mine. He speaks through a mouth half-full, "do not think I will share simply because you are sad."

I snort and roll my eyes. Gwayne is relieved this was the reaction he garnered.

"I had enough cake from tasting them with Harwin yesterday."

He stops chewing.

I notice the frosting on the corner of his lips and wipe it with my thumb, "enjoy your cakes."

Gwayne is perfectly still.

And even now, the man is as insufferable as he can get. Since it seems it was nary clear that I did not enjoy the sight of him divulging his attentions to other ladies at court, he did, what? Yes of course, the very exact thing.

Each ear of his had a young lady giggling bashfully into it. I had gone a great many lengths to ignore it, but then it began to be unbearable when I finally noticed the lords and ladies turn from my husband to me, muttering and laughing under their breath.

Normally, I wouldn't even bat an eye over the opinions the pricks had of me or my husband. Here and now however, it was hard not to feel like a dunce, when I was the princess, yet I was standing alone, and my prince had ladies fawning over him left and right.

Enough.

I will not grant him the satisfaction of humiliating me any more than he has. I'm leaving.

Daemon watches, perking at the sight of the exit. He steps forward, away from the irritating voices, smirk falling, for it was never truly genuine in the first place.

His face hardens when there is an interception.

"My princess," a deep voice speaks, as a large man blocks me.

I lift my gaze and stop before we collide. Immediately, my spirits are lifted at the sight of the dark man's hair and beard, "Harwin."

His lips curve at the familiarity of my addressing.

"I thought you were off, doing gods-know-what again?"

Harwin chuckles, shaking his head, "the gods have allowed me to accomplish my tasks swiftly.

He raises a brow and places his hands behind him, "you're not leaving when the festivities have not even commenced yet, are you?"

I scoff, crossing my arms, "festivities are naught this eve, ser Strong."

"That is because," he steps forward, taking my hand slowly, "you and I have not yet shared a dance."

I roll my eyes at him, "you're a poor partner."

"And that is precisely why the festivities will commence."

I snort, smiling up at him, as he smiles back down. He takes my expression as wordless agreement. Harwin spins me once before leading me to the dancefloor. I chuckle at his theatrics. Poor he may be in dancing, he's always been good at making me smile.

I press slightly against him as his hand falls to my back, the other clutching my arm delicately.

"Tell me, Winne," I grip his firm shoulder as we glide with the music.

He snorts at my archaic pet name for him, rolling his eyes as he licks his teeth in amusement.

I am amused by his reaction, pleased to know that the name still held him tightly in annoyance, exactly like how it did when we were younger. I chuckle before deflating, "do men normally think it a game to toy with their wives' feelings?"

Harwin's amused expression fades. He grunts and spins me around, using the opportunity to eye Daemon, who was undoubtedly already looking at us.

When his eyes dart back to me, he purses his lips, "indeed this night is not at all festive to you, little doe."

I turn away from him, aimlessly looking at his collar to avert my glare elsewhere. He did not mean to trigger my anger, what he said was his pet name for me as children, but it had been since overshadowed by my husband's musing of the name; he called me his little doe in times he came to me as a predator and I appeared to him like prey.

My gut groans in annoyance.

Harwin notices my discomfort and does me the courtesy of changing the subject, "tis unfortunate for me to announce a tonne of men believe riling wives a thrilling sport."

I turn back to him; the darkness in my face melts when I catch the concern in his. I purse my lips tightly, pushing a stray curl away from his face, "and do you hold the same regard, Strong?"

"Hmm," he looks away to think, "my princess would be pleased to learn that as a child, I had a terrible playmate," Harwin turns back to me, raising his brows, "she was the most entitled little girl I ever met, was so viscous and strong."

I snort.

He mimics, "though perhaps not as strong as me. Still, I am aghast to ever think of crossing or treating a woman poorly, not even because I think it descent, but merely for I fear the rage of she."

I cannot help the fond smile that spreads on my lips. I tilt my head as we circle the room, continuing our movements, "I suppose it is the gods irony that the Strong boy fears a strong girl."

Harwin laughs, twirling me around once more. I break into a chuckle as he does so, a bit dizzy when he pulls me back close to him. I am heaving slightly when he pulls me close.

"I suppose it is, princess," he tilts his head.

In that moment, the song ends and each dance partner parts, clapping as they did, us included.

"Care for another dance, Winnie?" I ask, extending my hand to him.

"Actually," he leads me to the side, "I was wondering if you wanted a change of pace," Harwin brings us by a column, "I feel that, in all his pettiness, the prince has not yet told you that the flowers he requested for you have recently just been planted in the gardens."

"What?"

Harwin huffs, "I had the same reaction when I heard of it. Your husband is a fu-"

Instantaneously, I am pulled aside and a string of, what I knew to be High Valyrian curses, were muttered tightly. Daemon seethes, gripping me with his iron hand, "and what of her husband, Strong?"

Harwin is unfazed by the glare Daemon throws.

I wince at how rough his grip is on me, "unhand me!" I bark, shoving Daemon off me. He does not budge and tightens his grip further. It is clear to me Daemon is too blinded by his rage to realize he is hurting me.

It is because of this, Harwin finally steps in. He barks, yanking Daemon off me, stepping between us, "you're hurting your wife, prince!"

Of course the action only caused further injury to me, Daemon's nails grazed my skin, and yet I am thankful for Harwin's interception.

The vein on Daemon's neck flares as he presses forward, closer to his opponent, "you have no right to tell me what I do with my wife!"

The area of my arm that Daemon grabbed throbs in pain. Tears fog my eyes as I watch the two of them squabble.

"I have every right to protect the princess," Harwin flares, "especially from the likes of you."

"From the likes of me?!" Daemon narrows his eyes.

The crowd breaks into a shocked gasp when the prince lunges and grabs Harwin by the collar, muttering something in High Valyrian, then threatening, "I best kill you. Who the fuck do think you are to tell me anything, vermin?!"

"Daemon!" I quip, prying him off Harwin, "unhand him!"

"YOU KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF MY WIFE!" Daemon seethes, hands digging deeper into Harwin's clothing.

"KEEP YOUR ATTENTIONS ON HER THEN!" Harwin barks back, overpowering him, twisting Daemon's hands off him and shoving him away.

The next instant, the attentions of the entire room is upon us. I feel my blood pump as my head spins, unsure of what to do next. I still manage to act swiftly before anything else can happen.

I walk over to Harwin, calling out to him. "that's enough, please just-"

"Why are you going to hi-" Daemon starts, grabbing me again. He cuts himself back and recoils when I whine and draw back at the contact he makes at my sore arm, the arm he most definitely bruised.

I snap at him, throwing him a hot glare. He looks bewildered. He looks guilty. He doesn't even meet my eyes and instead is staring at my arm. I point a finger at him, "I'll deal with you later."

I turn back to Harwin, placing my hands on his chest, pushing him away, "go home, Winnie."

Daemon's head cocks, his lips twitches in an unpleasant manner, "Winnie?"

Harwin gently takes my arm, leaning in, "he hurt you."

I feel tears prick at the corner of my eyes. I fight them off as I whimper, "please, just go."

Harwin brushes his calloused hand on my injured arm before walking back and storming off.

When I turn back to Daemon, he is looking at me with a stoic expression. I grit my teeth and grab him, dragging him away with me as we leave this damned hall.

I take him all the way to our shared chambers, but I stop just outside the door. I finally release him and begin to berate him, "are you satisfied?"

Daemon stiffens at the sound of my shrill voice.

I heave, "not only did you ruin my night, you ruined everyone else's!"

His eyes evade me. His lips part when he sees my arm. He reaches out to me and I recoil, "don't you dare fucking touch me."

"I didn't mean-"

"YOU DIDN'T MEAN TO DO ANYTHING BUT YOU STILL DID THEM!" I scream. I poke his chest in anger, "you claim it's all a game to you, and yet you're the only one that ever enjoys it!"

"It's all that cunt, St-"

"IT'S YOU, DAEMON!" I flare, "It's always you!"

Daemon's face contorts. His breath hitches. He walks closer, "my love, please-"

"You hurt me, Daemon!" I word carefully, wanting it to finally get through his thick skull, "not just tonight, but for the past weeks!"

He calls out my name but I raise a hand to silence him.

"You're either sleeping on the floor or sleeping elsewhere."

He gulps, ready to plead his case again. I cut him off before he can even open his mouth.

"Speak a word in protest over my generosity and I will chose a far crueler fate for you," I coldly spit, walking toward the door, pushing it open. I look over my shoulder as I walk in the room, "what's it going to be, prince?"

Daemon cringes at the call, brows tightening along with his fists. He deflates and mutters under his breath, "floor."

I turn to him, eyes narrowing, "you were so loud a while ago, where did your fire go, dragon?"

"Floor," he utters walking in the room, stopping once he is in front of me. Daemon's expression is grave as he mutters again, "I'd much rather sleep on the floor, wife."

I pull away from him before he can even attempt to touch me. I walk towards our bed, grabbing a pillow, haphazardly throwing over to him. I glare darkly, "if you are cold, sleep by the fire, dragon."

Daemon calls out my name, wanting to begin his pleas again, but then he stiffens when he watches me walk toward the door, "where are you going?"

I scoff, "how cruel of you to think I'd sleep with a throbbing arm."

"I'll come-"

I turn to him, tears finally running down my cheeks. Daemon freezes in his spot. I huff, looking away from him, "do not show your face to me until I've calmed."

Daemon frowns.

"I mean it."

The prince's eyes rake my entire body up and down without shame.

I let out a barely amused chuckle, "I have not yet had a man compliment me in such a way."

He tilts his head, eyes finally locking into my hardened gaze, "what do they usually compliment?"

"My bosoms," I retort, crossing my arms, making the very area of my body push up at the action.

He breaks into a chuckle, and I half expect him to turn to my breasts, yet he does not look down, "the men around you would dare be so tactless?"

"I'm shocked that you're surprised by it," I say in uninterested tone. I give one last nod in regard then turn back to my friends, though obviously they had been watching my exchange with the prince and looked far more interested in it now than whatever it was we were previously talking about.

"Might I tempt you with a dance?"

I roll my eyes and make no attempt to turn to him, "no, but perhaps one of my dear friends would be interested," I look between the ladies then finally turn back to the prince.

With that, I give him a proper curtsy, "your grace," then walk away.

Daemon turns to the ladies.

"My prince-"

He walks off before she could continue.

"What was that?!" an aggressive mutter paired with an aggressive grip pulls me to the side before I can even make my way to the banquet table to pour myself a drink.

"What was what, mother?" I say releasing a deep sigh to calm myself, lest I blow up in front of everyone and be locked in my room as a consequence again.

"Were you entertaining the prince?!" she breathes heavily against my neck.

I roll my eyes, turning to her, "no mother," I pull my arm out of her grip, "I have no intention of-"

"Good," she releases, firm and relieved. She straightens herself up and fixes the already perfectly fixed hair on my head, "the prince acts like he is starved of attention and nothing but trouble nips at his heels. I will not have you associate with him as both your brothers would likely fall into hot water for it. Especially not when your father has already laid out a more suitable match for you."

My eyes widen, not that she would notice, since she was busy pampering me for no reason.

Her words make me scan the room for the very person she did not want to be around me. So very quickly, I spot the prince on the other side of the room, eyes already on me.

Prince Daemon's expression is stoic, and yet there is a slight curve in the corner of his lips.

"Now go," my mother says, forcing my head to look at her with her soft but heavy hand, "the Strongs await you."

My lips curl in distaste. My mother spins me around, facing me to the direction of my father, and pushes me off. I release a sigh and head to my old man beckoning me over. On my way, I look over my shoulder and find the prince's eyes have still not left me. I smile to myself.

"Lord Strong," I bow to whom I would assume was my potential match, "Lord Strong," I bow to whom was clearly his father, "Father," I give my father a sardonic smile.

He ignores this and pulls me under his arm, "finally, my daughter graces us with her presence."

"Tis a pleasure to finally see you face to face," the man my father's age speaks, "your father's stories do you no justice."

My father is displeased when I only return the man's words with a half smile, "thank Lord Lyonel for the compliment, daughter."

I turn to my father with the same smile still on my face, but Lord Lyonel cuts in, "no thanks is required, I'm merely telling you my thoughts."

The genuine tone of the man makes me turn to him and drop my fake smile.

"I can only assume then you are more temperate than what your father described."

I snort at that.

My father shifts next to me.

I break into a genuine smile, "Thank you, my Lord," I curtsy, "tis not often that I hear such genuine compliments."

"I do hope you allow my son to continue with the task," Lord Lyonel says, motioning to the man beside him.

"Harwin Strong, my lady," he introduces, reaching his hand out to me.

I take his hand, introducing myself, and find myself not utterly revolted when he kisses my skin.

After that, our fathers promptly leave us to our own devices. Harwin pours me a drink and leads me to a more quieter side of the room.

In all fairness, he was kind, funny, and an utter gentleman. He did not advance with his hand like other men would, nor did he press on topics I showed no interest in. I did enjoy our conversation, but I was too distracted by the silver haired prince that positioned himself conveniently right across us.

I giggle at Harwin's joke. He leans in as he shares in my laughter. His father and my parents, who were watching us intently, are utterly pleased with our exchange.

"I do not wish to cut our laughter short, but I fear I might piss myself if I do not relieve myself right this instant," Harwin says after his chuckles die down.

"Oh," I shake my head, "and here I thought of inviting you to a dance to prove how true your jests at being horrible at it are."

Harwin lets out an amused breath, "then I shall be quick about it and return to accompany you with my two left feet."

I nod, "I'll walk you then."

"There is no need, my la-"

"No, I think I shall ask the prince to be my partner in the meantime."

Harwin's grin falters and he instinctively turns to the man he had been acutely aware was staring the whole time.

Noticing his features dip, I look over to my parents and see that they looked utterly blissful now. How nice it would be if I changed that.

"I snubbed him a while ago," I mutter, making Harwin turn back to me, "I do think I should entertain him now while you are gone."

I half expect Harwin to repel the idea, but I am impressed at his composure as he nods, "as you wish."

And so we head over to the other side of the room.

On the way, he jokes again about his horrible dance moves and I let out a laugh. I feel my parents eyes hot on my back when we near the exit. Harwin gives me one last look before I break away from him and move over to the prince.

The Targaryen is fully amused when I walk in front of him.

"My prince," I curtsy.

He hums, "bored out of your mind, were you?"

I straighten up and chuckle at his words, "I think you witnessed how much I laughed at his words from here, just as I witnessed your intent gaze."

The curve on his lips does not falter, and yet I do not miss how his jaw tenses.

I hold back a laugh, "I have decided to rescind my rejection."

He chuckles, turning to his feet as he walks over to me, "and did your mother convince you otherwise?" He clicks his tongue once, "I'm afraid no one in this world has a face pretty enough for me to forgive conspirators who wish to leech off me for power."

Once he is before me, he lifts his eyes and burns me with his gaze.

I am excited by his attempt and give a smile in return, "contrarily, she piqued my interest when she ordered me to stay away from you."

The prince narrows his eyes upon hearing this.

"I am honestly shocked you are unaware of the impertinent eldest child of my house, who works tirelessly against her parents' wills."

The glint in his eyes brighten, "and why would she do such happy things?" he lifts his head interest.

"She is sick that her stupid younger brothers get to do what they want and she has to get married off for the benefit of her family."

He mock sighs, "pity."

"It would be if you don't allow me the satisfaction of maddening my parents," I purse my lips, "it is precisely for that reason that I am now eager to take you up on your offer."

Daemon takes a moment to measure my reaction. He tears his gaze from me, looking out to the room, finding, sure enough, two pairs of eyes were angrily staring back at him. He smirks, turning back to me, "an interesting turn of events."

"My mother said you were starved of attention," I note, immediately making him grunt in amusement. I continue, "and my parents' angry gaze is attention still."

Daemon places his hands behind him, tilting his head in thought. I mirror his actions. He chuckles breathily in response.

"Might I ask for your company the second time then?" he reaches is hand out.

I take it and pull him to the frolicking crowd without another word.

The second time I would encounter him was the day after, on my way to a tea party that was routinely held by the gardens of the palace.

"I heard you received quite an earful from your mother after the feast," the familiar voice speaks from behind me, "before ultimately being locked up in your room."

I look over my shoulder and behold the Targaryen prince. I stop in my tracks, making him do the same, "and where, pray tell, did you hear such a viscous rumor?"

Prince Daemon looks down at me due to his height. He has his hands behind him as he shifts on one leg. He looks much more princely now with the gardens in the background. Suddenly I wonder what he was doing here, since he's never attended the tea party before, and I was sure only the ladies and I would be here today.

"The servants talk" he mutters plainly, "and apparently your mother's rage is unmistakable."

I laugh heartily, "it is," then shake my head, "but do not worry. It is a custom in our house, and she only ever uses her words to wound me."

"Yes," he says, turning to the direction I was heading, leading us off, "I assumed as much when you told me how you revel in disobedience."

I smile to myself as I follow after him.

"There is a congregation of chatty ladies beyond the fence, correct?" he points forward.

"Indeed, my prince," I grin ear to ear, turning to him.

He turns to me with a knowing look, "how long do you think your sermon will be if I walk you there, hand in mine?"

I break into a laugh. Daemon turns away and follows suit. I grab his hand and take larger strides, "best not to think about it too much."

I do not hear the way Daemon chuckles as I make my way to the heart of the garden.

The very moment we arrive, it is clear the tea party is unlike the usual ones, as each lady is paired with a man, standing closely together in their own personal bubble.

"Oh, there she is," one of the ladies say, "and by the gods, in the hand of the prince."

The prince greets the scrutinizing gazes with a grin and leads me to the dining table that was mostly vacated.

I find my focus on ser Harwin, who was seated by the opposite side of the table, gazing tightly at Daemon, then speak "I was unaware we would be joined by the lords today."

"Clearly, my love," one of the ladies seated retorts before sipping on her cup.

"I am surprised you managed to drag the prince here," another adds, looking to our joined hands, "he digs his heels in the dirt every occasion I invite him."

I turn Daemon, who turns from Harwin, then to the woman who spoke, "I only thought it would be unbecoming if our lady walks all the way here by herself," his eyes take in mine, then presses a kiss on the back of my hand, "I shall leave you to your tea, then."

I curtsy at him as he pulls away.

"Ser Harwin," Daemon turns to the man glaring at him, "do take care of our lady."

I walk over to Lord Strong the moment the prince leaves. The ladies watch me and begin to gossip with each other.

He greets me, lips not missing a smirk.

I match his expression, "my Lord Strong."

"My lady," he stands beside me, "your mother did warn me you had a knack for theatrics."

"Hmm," I chuckle, "did she say theatrics or impertinence?"

Harwin chuckles, looking over his shoulder, deciding to lead me off to where we would not be heard so keenly, "no mother would dare speak so poorly of their child."

I snort as we walk over to the flowery part of the garden, "clearly you are not acquainted by my mother."

"Well," he raises a hand, "tis not your mother I wish to be acquainted with anyway," he picks a flower from a bush, "but her daughter."

I turn to the bright pink petals in his hand and take it in mine. Harwin smiles as I inhale the flowers scent.

Ever since then, whispers of me and the prince, and me and ser Harwin, would slowly trickle through court. It wouldn't take long for the mangled truth of us to reach the ears of my parents. And of course, for every time they told me to stay away from the king's brother, I would reach out to him more eagerly.

For every time they would arrange a meeting with Strong, I'd make sure the Targaryen would find an opportunity to butt in.

At a point, my parents stopped telling me about my premade meets with Harwin, and yet Daemon still managed to come around, to my delight and everyone else's annoyance.

It was clear to most onlookers that I was absolutely smitten with the prince after all our 'coincidental' meetings, and yet I was also extremely taken by how ceaselessly patient Harwin was by it all.

It was, I suppose, during our 20th meeting that a chord was actually struck. And as innocent I could say I was, for I truly did not know they would fight that day, perhaps I should have known they would, considering we were at a tourney after all.

"My lady," Harwin huffs, looking up at me with a grin. The horse he is mounted on is restless as it was only just galloping fiercely across the grounds moments ago. "Might I have your favor again?"

I smile down on him from the elevated stand as he points his lance at my direction.

My mother hands me a wreath and urges me off my seat. I walk over to ser Harwin and throw the ring of leaves to his undefeated weapon, "nine is a bit excessive, don't you think?"

"Shall I withdraw at your command then, my lady?"

I shake my head, "I would not dare deny the crowds their dashing champion."

Harwin chuckles as the crowds roar at my words. He takes the wreath from his lance and hands it to the servant who places it with the rest of them, "then perhaps a last victory for an even 10."

"As you wish, my lord."

I retreat back to my seat and earn a pleased look from my mother. Her pleased look does not last when she hears the name of Harwin's next competitor.

My own jaw slacks at the sight of Daemon from the other side of the fighting ground. He was clad in thick, and flashy armor, and he seems to know exactly where my seat was, considering he was staring right at me as he strut his horse over. I have no idea why my mother thinks pinching my arm will make me close it and not open my mouth wider.

It doesn't take long for the two to ready on either side.

Without a seconds thought, the two opponents are now charging, bashing their beams on each other's shields. Their might seems to be an even match, as both their lances are crushed on impact.

The audience revels in the violence of the match. They crush their lances on each other twice more before, finally, Harwin is thrown off his horse.

I honestly was so shocked by the outcome that I jump out of my seat and lean against the rails gasping.

Daemon gallops and screams victoriously at the crowd who was celebrating their prince. His gaze meets mine and he rides over my direction at once. I cringe at the thought of him trampling on Harwin, who was writhing in the dirt, and mutter a prayer that the two do not go at each other with their swords.

I release a breath when Daemon passes Harwin, making no attempt to unmount his horse or continue the fight.

I hear my mother call out my name repeatedly but I ignore her as the prince is nigh over. I watch as Daemon points his lance at me, "I have spared your strong suitor a death in the tourney grounds," he makes his horse halt before me, "the least the fair lady can do is offer me the wreath meant for his tenth victory."

I release a chuckle and shake my head.

Daemon smirks as he looks up at me in expectation.

"Of course, my prince," I turn over, holding my hand out to my mother. She gives me a defiant look and I raise a brow in response, "the wreath mother."

She clenches her jaw.

I sigh, looking back out the stands, "can someone give me a wreath?"

Daemon catches my mothers gaze then drops the lance in his grip to the side. I turn back to him after, as he then commands his horse to stride forward.

Harwin finally stands from where he was on the dirt with the aid of his family servants.

"If you cannot grant me a wreath," Daemon calls, bringing his horse to the side, forcing me to lean into the railing so I could still see him.

The crowd goes wild. My mother grumbles my name.

Harwin watches as Daemon throws his helm and shifts on his steed, wobblily bringing his feet to his saddle attempting to stand.

I gasp when his hand reaches the rail and his head rises up near mine. His grin does not fade even after seeing my mother's furious expression from behind me.

"Perhaps a kiss then?"

The crowd goes wild.

My mother blinks rapidly, in pure disbelief. She is too stunned to move. She barks my name out in a warning, but I my heart is fluttering at the prince's boyish grin.

I do not hesitate and take his cheeks in my hand, bring my lips upon his. The crowd grows even wilder.

Harwin turns away as the crowd roars in approval.

Our 21st meeting is in the secrecy of midnight at the stables near my home.

I hear my name. I lift my gaze from the horse I was petting and find the prince's face as it twists at the sight of me.

"By the gods," Daemon mutters, hand springing to the side of my face. His eyes darken at the purple around my eye.

He does not find the same amusement I do when I speak, "I never thought they'd lay their hands on me like this. I used to pride myself in knowing only my younger brothers got the wrath of my father's hand."

"Your father did this to you?" Daemon practically growls.

"Apparently, my words amount to nothing now, as he is more convinced by the rumors of the servants that claim I am pregnant with your child."

Daemons brows tighten, "and what did your Harwin Strong have to say about this?"

"He has not seen me for days after the tourney, which is what angered my father to begin with."

He scoffs out a chuckle, "I underestimated how weak willed and spineless the ninnyhammer could be," Daemon pulls his hand away to brush my hair back, "clearly he should be called Harwin Cunt."

I roll my eyes, "he could have broken bones from your blow for all you know."

Daemon narrows his eyes at that, "I broke his fragile ego, surely," he shakes his head, "and you a bruising mine by guarding his name when he failed to guard you from your father's hand."

I chuckle before aimlessly walking off, "how brave of you to admit to the fragility of your ego." I look over to him as he walks by my side, "still, Harwin has done nothing but be patient with me and our schemes against my parents."

Daemon looks like he doesn't enjoy where this is going.

"I've accepted that he is to be my future husband. My father will stop at nothing to ensure it."

"No," he quips, causing me to stop in my tracks.

Daemon and I share a long look before her brings his hand up to ghost on the bruise on my face, "there would be no finer match between a lady of your stature and a prince like I."

"Hmp," I scoff, "except my father loathes you."

"Surely, he does not loathe the opportunity to rise next to the second highest seat in the realm."

I am unable to respond as he places his hand on my belly, "and making the rumors true would give him no choice but to comply."

The sincerity of his words make me raise my brows and shove him off. He chuckles.

I cross my arms, "I might be unruly, but I am still a lady."

Daemon chuckles as I continue, "if you wish to get me pregnant, you're going to have to get on one knee first."

I'm genuinely surprised how the prince invited himself to our house later that day. Of course, he was still the prince, and knowing his wildness, my parents did not dare to turn him away.

My father was rendered completely dumbstruck by the visit, and where my mother chastised me again later that night, he only watched our viscous exchange.

I sent word to Daemon about it swiftly, practically giggling in my letter at the idea that his visit broke my father.

I did not receive a response though, but I thought nothing of it because I knew I would see him soon enough.

And yet days would pass I wouldn't hear from him same as ser Harwin.

It would not have phased me as much as it did, but then my mother had taken her turn at beating me. With my father no longer present, since he was out of town to mend my proposal with ser Harwin, my mother readily took up the mantle as disciplinarian.

She was not like my father, who I knew immediately regret bringing his hand out to his only daughter; she used me to air out all her frustrations eagerly. She was worse than my father, since she made sure to hit me repeatedly with not her hand, but her cane in places that would not be visible.

It got to a point were the servants called a maester for me at one time. In fact, it got so bad that my younger brothers, who had always been scared shitless by our mother, finally stepped in to hold her back. They even told me to leave home until father returned.

You can bet that they didn't have to tell me twice.

And so having already prepared lodging for me, my brothers sent me off to the capital and told me not to return until they sent word of my father's arrival.

At this point, I had sent word to the prince, eager to take my mind off my aching body. I found it utterly out of character when I still did not receive a response. Thus, out of my own volition, I came to him.

"The servants told me you'd be here," I call, releasing a soft and relieved smile upon seeing the prince's silver-white hair reading a book by the weirwood tree.

He was sitting on a chair at a table set with snacks, not at all moving to turn to me at all.

"Is your story that intriguing that it's made you ignore me?"

Daemon finally turns to me, face hard, eyes uninterested.

The smile that I gave him fades when he stands and walks past me without a word.

I knit my brows as he strides away. I call for him when I am faced with his back, "Daemon, I-"

"It's your grace," he cuts, raising a finger as he turns back to me with a look of anger, "Prince Daemon of house Targaryen."

I look at him as he clutches the book in his hand tightly.

"Your grace," I mutter softly.

"Yes," he snips, then slowly words out, "Lady Hightower."

My face contorts as I shake my head in confusion, "I do not understand. I am not-"

"No?" he adds blurts, "but your cunt of a father is The Hand, Otto Hightower's cousin, is he not?"

I step back when he steps towards me.

"This was all your elaborate mind fuck, wasn't it?" he chuckles dryly, "you even went as far to let your father strike you so that I would-"

"Daemon," I raise my hands, "I-"

"DO NOT ACT FAMILIAR!" he snarls, throwing his book forcefully off to my side. I heave sharply in fear and feel my pulse quicken as the prince accuses, "you are a deceptive wench, hellbent on climbing to the top, just as I knew you were from the start!"

I shiver, "and you are turning into my father that chose to strike me because of baseless rumors!" I whine, holding back tears as my lips wobbled.

Daemon turns away, laughing darkly, "oh, don't play the victim!" He turns back to me, chest rising and falling in anger, "I heard your father speak it to his conspiring cousin that he struck you so that I'd take notice."

Unable to even process the weight his words held if it were true, I just look at him with tears falling helplessly from my eyes.

"What say you now, bitch?" Daemon seethes.

"Daem-"

"DO NOT CALL ME BY MY NAME!" he shouts, taking my shoulders in his hands, shaking me in anger.

He was unaware of the bruises in my arms, which is why he shoves me back when I scream, what was to his ears, exaggeratedly.

I reel back at his strength, having none to repel it, and come crashing back to the table behind me. The unanticipated contact on the small of my back makes me coil in the most unsavory of ways. I knock a few plates on the floor.

There is a shooting pain that shakes all over my body. The searing sensation makes me drop to the floor where my hands land on a plate that breaks under the force of my weight.

Tears and whines rip out of throat as I pull my bloody hand away from the shards that cut me.

Daemon had not anticipated that to happen at all, and so he just stood there, stunned. He was so stunned, in fact, he didn't have the wits to look over his shoulder as someone screamed out and tackled him.

With intent to destroy, Harwin lunged on Daemon, pinning him down on the ground where he punched him twice before he halted after hearing the sound of pained whimpers.

Harwin looked over his shoulder to me, and shoved himself off of the prince that was writhing, dazed on the floor.

"My lady!" Harwin calls to me, offering his one hand out as the other goes to my shoulder. He makes tries to lift me to my feet, by I let out a pained cry that stops him from moving me any further.

Daemon props himself on his elbows upon hearing it.

"Apologies," Harwin says, "I-"

"No," I shudder in pain, "I-" tears fog my sight, "I don't think I can stand."

Harwin clenches his jaw, nostrils flaring, "I will have the prince answer to hi-"

"It's not him," I whine, finally managing to at least pull away from the broken glass on the floor with the dark haired man's aid, "it's- it's my mother," I choke out a cry, "she's enraged that you have not returned because I have upset you-"

"You have not upset me," Harwin calls, "not you."

Daemon finally has the brain to stand.

"Harwin, I- I can't-"

Without another word, Harwin mutters that he will carry me to the maesters. I shake my head in disapproval, but he only hushes out apologies as he brings me to his arms.

Daemon catches a glimpse of what was underneath my skirt, discolored marks, unmistakably bruises.

I moan out in pain as Harwin cradles me in his arms. My hand darts to his face, but I pull back when I wipe blood on his cheek. I cry harder now, "I- Harwin-"

He looks down at me in his arms, hushing me as he shakes his head.

Daemon runs off in a hurry to ready the maesters that were just a hall away. Harwin is shocked but relieved that the maesters have a bed prepared for me the moment we enter. He is angered to know it is because of the prince.

"The prince pushed her," Harwin speaks sharply, turning to the said man, as he sets me down on the bed.

The closest maester does nothing but come towards me to attend to my bloody hands.

"She has bruises on her legs," Daemon says, making both Harwin and the maester turn to him. The former clenches his jaw tightly, anger doubling when my legs are examined by a separate maester.

He doesn't have to say it, but the maester speaks what both men already figured, "the lady was probably hit by a stick of sorts."

Daemon heaves in anger. Harwin twitches at the prince's reaction.

The maester asks me to describe the pain I'm feeling, and I explain it to him, adding I collided against a table but then also the fact that my mother hit me with a cane on my back on an occasion where I ran from her.

The maester gives me something for the pain.

Upon drinking it, I look between Harwin and Daemon who were both angry and distraught. My face was still glazed with tears when I muttered, "please, don't take me back home, I beg of you."

The two of them move to speak, but Harwin is who is heard, "I will take you to my residence."

Daemon scoffs, "she will stay here," he throws Harwin a dirty look, "with the company of the best maesters."

"What so you can fucking push her from the top of the tower next?"

Daemon rages over to Harwin, but my squeaking command for them to stop proves to be effective.

Daemon turns to me, but I am too focused on Harwin to care, "my father said he went to you to convince you to take me back."

Harwin knits his brows.

"How could he when he's here, conspiring with Otto Hightower?" Daemon retorts in a sour tone.

Harwin ignores him and walks over to me, kneeling by the side of my bed, "he came to me, saying that you were ashamed to face me after the tourney and told me to patient for your call."

I cannot believe what I am hearing.

I break into a fit of tears, screwing my eyes shut in disbelief, "Harwin, I've been waiting for you to come to me so that I-" I bite my lip and shake my head, "when I realized you weren't coming, I thought my only hope of relief from my mother's hand would be when my father returns home."

Harwin sighs, as I repeat, "please, don't send me back."

Moving closer to me after the maester finished wrapping my wound, he mutters, "I will not allow another soul hurt my bride."

Both I and Daemon freeze upon hearing that.

Harwin pulls the ring from his finger and fiddles with it for a moment, "I agreed to my father's plans to wed you the moment I saw you, my lady."

He slips the ring on my finger, making my breath hitch.

"Harwin," I start and make a move to sit up, but there is again a blinding pain that shoots down my spine that forces me to screw my eyes shut and yelp.

He places a gentle hand on my arm, barely ghosting on my skin, hushing me yet like he has been since he carried me.

When I open my eyes, my gaze darts over to the prince, but I find that he is no longer here.