#ibat

“i personally think you two make a lovely match,” rhaenyra grins cheekily over her glass of dornish wine, setting the goblet down in favour of popping a juicy grape into her mouth. “and, well, at least he’s actually handsome.”

you all but snort, dismissing the princess’ claims with a lighthearted roll of an eye. you don’t think you’d ever admit that the man was attractive.

“you’re more than welcome to have him yourself, princess.” you send a wink her way, choosing a slice of peach from the silver tray in front of you and almost groaning from how sweet and ripe it was.

she rolls her eyes, brushing a hair that had fallen from her up-do and tucking it behind her ear.

“my love is wed to my lord father,” she sighs, a distant look in her eyes and your brows furrow in sympathy. “at least he’s to your taste.”

it was true - rhaenyra had confided in you about her.. attraction to her childhood best friend some months ago, and you had sworn to take the secret to your grave if you must. as heir to the iron throne, it wouldn’t do her good for the realm to learn of her tendencies.

“i’m sorry, rhaenyra,” you breathed, reaching for her hand from across the table. “forgive me, i forget myself.”

when your father had heard of the proposed marriage, he was more than happy to accept on your behalf. having only come from a smaller, lesser known house, it would surely benefit your family greatly. your father had wanted grandchildren for as long as you could remember, and he was completely ecstatic with the match being ser harwin strong, son of the hand of the king, known for his strength and combat. he’d definitely sow warriors, of that your father was certain.

and in the spirit of an arranged marriage, you’d hardly even made the acquaintance of ser harwin before beginning your courting. and so you found yourself taking strolls with him through the gardens of the castle, finding little in common and as a result, very little to talk about.

after a long period of silence, ser harwin, walking with his hands clasped behind his back and pressing his chest forward in the process, finally speaks.

“i hope you understand that this marriage was my lord father’s idea, and not my own.” his voice is gravelly, deep and yet somehow still soft. it matches him perfectly, his whole demeanour. you’d probably have noticed the butterflies in your stomach if his comment didn’t offend you.

“i beg your pardon?”

he chuckles, the sound dry in his throat. “have i offended you, my lady?” he grins, the lines not quite reaching his eyes as he leans to catch the stem of a flower between his fingers, admiring it so, eyes flickering to you over the petals. “forgive me. that was not my intention.”

“and what was you intention?” you question through your teeth, an eyebrow raised in annoyance. did he have to be so fucking cocky?

“only that it was my wish not to marry.” he grunts, lowering the flower to fix you squarely with his gaze. “you are to know i have no intentions of fulfilling our duty as lovers once we are wed.”

you could’ve choked if you weren’t holding your breath, processing his words and realising what he was suggesting wasn’t all so bad. you didn’t want to lay with him, either. even if you were still slightly offended.

“at least, until you are willing, my lady.”

“good,” you jut your chin out in attempt to make yourself more confident, to look more intimidating, and as you lock eyes with him, a small, lopsided smile crawls across his face. he was seeing right through you, you realised, though he had enough grace to refrain from pointing it out. you levelled your voice, a last attempt to give yourself the upper hand. “then so be it.”

he grins, lowering his face, but keeping his eyes trained on you.

“then so be it.”

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