#harwin.

The clever flees his tongue before it ever shapes, burnt out by an instinct they share. Such is Cole’s company for him. Fog and boy rage.

Harwin’s nose goes up roughly.

Luke is alone, with Cole’s cold touch last to have seen him off. Branded him failed. No doubt he thinks—-

and, anyways, it had given him an excuse to dance with her.

harwin tries not to dwell so much on the thought however, even if the few minutes he'd spend simply spinning her about were pleasant, if only he would see glimpses of the princess truly enjoying herself — the princess is, of course, married; if not already somehow seduced by the rogue prince. what reasons she will have to look for him besides him the knight who nearly had caught her prowling the street of silk ?

❛ i would hope your next sworn shield would serve you better. ❜

they do not acknowledge him much, the boys. aye, jace was cordial and friendly, the only one out of the three who seems to have a proper inkling who he might be, and who invites him most to sparring. they do not talk about their relations, aside from the first moment jace had wanted him to know that he knew, though harwin needn't him to. this is enough, he's convinced. this has always been enough. it is only unfortunate that he must spend the last five years away after father's passing, aided even more with larys' strict recommendation from king's landing to not interfere anymore with princess rhaenyra's life and remains as he has as lord of harrenhal. which is perhaps why lucerys hadn't been so jovial at his return — possible, only, due to rhaenyra's summon — had he even knew who harwin was ? had he remembered ?

and joffrey ... oh, young little joffrey, not so little anymore.

regardless, harwin's attention falls on none of the boys, but the young girl instead. he smiles. ❛⠀i'm very glad to be here, on dragonstone. ❜

Dangerous, this one. He can only ‘mishear’ so many times, it would seem.

‘ An ask too steep, I’m afraid—- ’

Harwin rings loud in the morning mist. A grating chestful sees the boar flung feet-over-horseback, and he gets to strapping it securely. Its neck loosens the last of the undrained blood in long pearls.

‘ -—of a man who abstains. ’

and of course there is, because as devastating to hold a house together after such a massive tragedy, harenhaal was never truly where harwin meant — wants — to be in. still, he had persisted. he had waited. he did his damn job, no matter the leering and condescending letters he'd received from larys of their house's future direction. it will all be worth it, he had thought quite religiously, adamantly. one day, he will return to be by her side. he will see his boys grow again, even if it is a thing he will have to bury with him when he goes, this knowledge. it will all be worth it.

thus, blame him not for the way his eyes armed itself with a thin layer of tear. after years... finally, they are together again. lord harwin strong does not cry; instead, he lowers his head. he gets on his knees. he greets the queen. ❛⠀i have returned, your grace. ❜

he's grown.

no longer the boy who'd once struggled with the weight of a new sword if he were given it. no. the prince in front of him holds his posture tall, and his chin taller. he is so much like rhaenyra, in that sense – fierce and stubborn and perhaps ... prideful, though harwin has never once thought that such a trait was unfitting. rhaenyra targaryen had had a right to be prideful : she was the realm's delight, and the rightful heir to the throne besides. had she been born a man, such pridefulness would oft be marked as confidence. as justified arrogance.

aye, though harwin isn't so foolish himself. pride may wear itself well upon the queen and her son, but it also comes, so graciously, before any fall. it is selfish, but after the news of lucerys ...

harwin has no right to mourn, yet it does not stop his eyes from fleeting across the dreary scenes of dragonstones regardless, fervently looking over the cape of anyone who walks pass for any glimpse of a younger, playful prince. lucerys who had cried so long and loudly when he was born, as though insistent he be heard and tended to. his was the only birth harwin had had the fortune to attend and it was—

harwin does not finish the memory. he could not.

to the elder velaryon now, the former commander of the city watch finds it in himself that he could not dispute. would that be what jacaerys wants ? would that be what he seeks ? the rumoured man who had sired the queen bastard sons currently playing at being an advisor ? no. harwin cares very little of that. his thought encompassed only of the fact that it has been so long - five years - and jacaerys is so, so much like rhaenyra. it is the only thing, in the moment, that seems to matter.

❛  be safe then.  ❜ harwin says, a play of politeness. of cordiality. ❛  come home.  ❜

for a moment, the knight does not answer the princess. though his brown eyes land on her, and his mouth thins—halfway between a smile and a straight, solemn line—from her statement.

what could he feasibly say to that ? should he agrees now, it would be ... detrimental, he thinks, as it would name the bubble of desire he had hope he kept well at bay; the one his father chided at him for, often. though then again, perhaps the princess thinks innocently : better than a friend could still give a simple meaning. a platonic sort of meaning.

and yet, even with the thought, harwin wishes he could resoundingly object. there is nothing quite as simple as platonic in the way he fe knows he's looked at her, especially when they are away, hidden from any public eye. he is thankful the princess has chose to remain oblivious, if not mischievous from time to time, in his growing adoration for her. that is alright; harwin knows what he has vowed. he would not be too greedy to ask for more.

and so, ❛ anything, princess. ❜ he bends down now, touches her rows of knuckles against his lips. if this is all he could have, he will not be foolish to dream of more. ( he knows, in his quieter nights, he will anyhow. ) ❛ your wish is my command. ❜

the knight stares right back in between fixing the gauntlet around his wrist. he wonders what it is that the second prince is curious about; harwin does not care to ask.

let him stare, he decides. the rogue prince is not the first to scrutinise.