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theforgottenmcrmy · 1 year

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Solace (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

᯽ Please note that this is an overall part 12 of the series “Growing Strong”. The masterlist, and part 1, can be found HERE . ᯽

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, mentions of previous death of characters, and near tooth-rotting fluff

Summary: Following the tragic fire at Harrenhal, you retreated back to the safety of Highgarden, where you, Harwin, and your family have lived for the past several years. But there are loyalties owed to those outside the walls of your family’s ancestral home, and a letter from an old friend coaxes you all to rejoin the wider realm once more.

A/N: *me, looking at pictures and GIFS for Highgarden inspo for this part*: “I want to go to there”

Welcome to time line of episode 8, everyone. I don’t plan on mentioning this super specifically in the story or anything, but I am tweaking the kids’ ages a bit from the books (and show(?) honestly, the show is harder to track this) before the actual start of the Dance. I pictured Jacaerys/Derrik as being around 16-17 years old, and Lucerys/Selwin around 14-15 years old by this point.

Thank you the support🖤 I hope you enjoy this longer chapter that contains what I would argue a lot of fluffy moments. Hopefully this can start make up for the week break and the angsty chapter that was the last one.🥲 I’m also going to be posting a family tree shortly, which will hopefully clear up any confusion about all these whacky relations.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!🖤

To Lady Y/N Tyrell of Highgarden,

My dearest friend, I hope you have been well since you last wrote. I sense a change in the seasons is upon us once more, and I urge you and the rest of your family to take good care of your health. I fear the accrual of more reasons to dread this time of year… As you know, it is nearing the anniversary of the passing of two individuals who were close to my heart.

My Good Sister, Lady Laena Velaryon, is still sorely missed by all who knew her. Although, I must admit that I am most fortunate to see her vibrant spirit live on in her daughters, the Ladies Baela and Rhaena, whom I have come to view as my own.

And then there is my late Lord Husband, Ser Laenor Velaryon. For all our differences, he was still my husband, and the man whose name my eldest sons bear. He had a good heart, and, at the end of it all, we had a true understanding of one another. I cared for him deeply, and I find myself still mourning the loss of him to this day.

With the memories of their passing beginning to occupy my mind once more, I am constantly reminded of the loss that you and your own Lord Husband endured around this same time of the year. As always, I continue to extend my sympathies to you and your family at this time.

Lord Lyonel Strong was a good man, and perhaps an even better Hand to our King. I am certain my father still feels his absence at Court, despite the speed at which his Lady Wife, Her Grace the Queen, filled the vacant position on the small council.

In remembering each and every one of these losses, I am also reminded of just how long it has been since I have had the pleasure of sharing your company. Make no mistake, writing letters by raven has proven more favorable than years of silence, I assure you. But, and perhaps selfishly so, I often find myself recalling the light that you and your family’s presence provided to me and my own.

I am no stranger to dark times, and I fear neither the old or new gods are yet through with me. If I am presented with an opportunity for happiness, I will happily jump at the chance to secure it. Vipers will be vipers, and whether the words they speak are true or not, they will always speak them through forked tongues. The years have made me far less agreeable to bend to their will.

It has been too long, my friend. I would like to invite you, Lord Harwin, and your children to come visit in Dragonstone. Prince Daemon and I would be happy to host your family for as long as you desire. Our boys are almost men now, but I think they would all greatly benefit from rekindling the friendship from their youth. One day, you and I will be gone from this world, and they will rule in our stead. If the gods are kind, that will be many years from now… But, as a cost of my position, I am aware that I have gained many enemies. I shall be more at ease when the Stranger comes to claim me if I know our sons will never find anything less than faithful allies in one another.

I eagerly await your response, and hope to see you soon.

Sincerely,

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen

There were few places in the entire world that were able to bring you more comfort than the familiar gardens of your home.

As alluded to by the name, Highgarden boasted many. Different areas of the expansive grounds housed different types of plants, each needing various degrees of care that only the most dedicated and well compensated gardeners held the entire knowledge of. The magnificent castle that was your ancestral home had been built in the center of them all.

The roses live among roses.

When an immediate member of the ruling family passed, it was tradition for a plant or flower that they favored, or which otherwise symbolized them, to be planted in their memory. Your mother, the only daughter of the Lord Meadows of Grassfield Keep, had a particular fondness for daisies. When she passed, your father planted many of those flowers across the gardens, and all by his own two hands. In turn, your father had long since decided that, in true Tyrell fashion, a new golden rose bush should be planted after his passing. You and Derron had seen to it that his wish was carried out. However, gods bless him, Derron had not lived long enough to convey to you what he wished to be planted after his own passing, so you had to make that decision on your own.

Derron’s passing marked a significant change for House Tyrell, and had changed the outcome of your own life forever. After some consideration, you opted with something a bit more imposing than daisies or roses to honor his memory: a birch tree.

The lure of the birch tree was that it was constantly changing in appearance with the seasons. You loved watching the visual transformations every few months. The gardeners had complimented your choice, noting that the birch tree was believed to symbolize new beginnings and growth. It had been fitting. Perfect, even. It grew at a decent rate as well- after approaching nearly two decades after Derron’s passing, the tree absolutely towered above you, and had come a long way from the tiny sapling you had once planted.

Derron’s tree was planted among others in a certain section of the gardens you had always tended to favor. The shade provided by it and surrounding trees was a welcome escape from the warm sun, particularly in the summer months. And, as the location was tucked away from the main garden path, it also allowed you ample privacy. You loved your home and those who resided within it with all of your heart, but you also had come to appreciate whatever small moments of peace that you were able to find for yourself. Doing so did wonders to clear your mind.

And it was clarity that you desired above all else at that moment as you idly ran your thumb across the letter that you’d received. Correspondence from Princess Rhaenyra was not an uncommon occurrence by any means; you wrote to another frequently. But the contents of this particular letter, which had been delivered by raven that same morning, had your mind bogged down with many thoughts.

There was excitement at the prospect of reuniting with your old friend after so many years. There was elation at the thought of the joy it would bring to your sons to see the Princes Jacaerys and Lucerys once again. But there was also concern… Worry about the potential threats to the solace you and Harwin had worked so painstakingly hard to craft for your family in Highgarden following the horrific tragedy that was the fire at Harrenhal.

You sighed tiredly, and leaned your head against the back of the tree.

…

The sound light giggles drifting over from the main garden path yanked you from your contemplation. But you recognized the sound immediately, and happily welcomed the interruption.

You rose to your feet, pocketed the parchment into your skirts, and made your way out into the open with a noticeable spring in your step.

Standing on the main cobblestone path was a young girl, still a tiny bit of a thing, clutching the hand of her nanny. When she saw you, her comfortingly familiar eyes lit up, and she reached out her small hands in your direction.

“Mama!”

“Mother,” Nanny Bryna corrected her, though you could tell she restrained herself from using the full extent of her sternness.

You beamed, and swiftly pulled your daughter up into your arms. The young girl threw her own arms around your neck in a near vice-like grip as she settled in your hold, but you didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Forgive me, My Lady,” Bryna apologized sincerely. “We did not mean to interrupt you. Lady Luciya was a bit finicky this morning, and I thought a small walk through the gardens might soothe her.”

You looked to Luciya expectantly, awaiting her response to her nanny’s words. The girl was young, with only her third name day occurring in a few months time. But despite her youth, Luciya was already as quick as a whip, and you had no doubt she knew exactly what it was that Bryna was referring to.

However, all your daughter could give you was an entirely pitiful look.

… As if such a sweet face could possibly be “finicky”.

You laughed at Lucyia’s front of innocence briefly, before turning your attention back to her nanny. “There is nothing to forgive, Bryna. I will take her for now.”

Bryna nodded, before giving you a small curtsy.

As her nanny walked away, you turned your attention to your daughter once more, and lightly tapped her on the nose with a single finger. “Now, Sweetling, what is all this business about you being unpleasant this morning?”

Luciya gave you a sheepish smile, before turning and hiding her face in your hair.

With Harwin’s curls, your eyes, and a combination of the pair of your remaining facial features, Luciya was the perfect balance of you and your husband. She reminded you each so very much of the mothers that you and Harwin had both lost at a young age. Luciya was small, but lively. She was quick to learn, just like Derrik had been; Bryna had already begun to work with her on reading and writing. And her sweetness rivaled Selwin’s at that age; though she was not immune to foul moods, her disposition was almost always more pleasant than not.

Luciya had been… unexpected, in a sense. After all, more than a decade after Selwin’s first name day had passed by the time she was born. But she had been no less welcomed for it. It was immediately clear that the young girl was the perfect final addition to your small family. Luciya had stolen the hearts of everyone she met, yours and Harwin’s included chief among them. Even your eldest children were taken with her; Derrik enjoyed reading to her whenever his studies and training allowed it, and Selwin had been taking her on short horseback rides around the castle grounds before she was even able to walk.

You ran a light hand over her curls absentmindedly for a moment, when all of the sudden, a brilliant idea struck you. You leaned in close, and gave her a conspiring smile. “Shall we see what your father and brothers are up to?”

Luciya withdrew her face from your hair, and with a bright smile of her own, nodded enthusiastically.

Given the hour, and the fact that it was such fair weather, there was only one place Harwin and your sons were likely to be. The clanging of clashing steel confirmed your suspicions the closer you drew to the training yard.

The yard was filled with various men, almost all donned in training armor or yielding blunted weapons of some sort. A large portion of them were gathered in the middle, watching with intrigue as two individuals who you couldn’t see just yet sparred with one another.

Much closer to you and Luciya, you spotted Derrik.

If Derrik looked like Harwin as a boy, it was even more apparent now that he was a young man. His curls had become less wild with age, but they were still present. He was broad shouldered, and though he was still young, you knew he could make a formidable opponent, if he ever needed to be. He was well trained with a sword, as Harwin and Highgarden’s master at arms had seen to that. When Derrik was not training with weaponry, Derrik and his tutors had exercised his mind with just as much fervor. He studied a great many subjects- history, philosophy, languages- and he enjoyed them all.

In another life, perhaps Derrik might have sought to become a maester. In your opinion, he had demonstrated the patience, wit, and motivation that would suggest success in such an endeavor. His grandsire, Lord Lyonel, had once chosen that path. As Harwin once told you, your Good Father had managed to forge six links on his chain before the death of his older brother forced him to abandon the pursuit for the sake of the Strong family. Similarly, as Derrik stood to inherit a great holding of his own one day, that fate of a maester was not his to claim.

Derrik was perfectly well rounded, as a wise young lord ought to be, and, though he was occasionally stubborn, he was wise beyond his years. You and Harwin couldn’t have been any prouder of him.

Your eldest son was tight lipped as he nocked an arrow and pulled back the string of a bow. Ser Corbus Crane, Highgarden’s master at arms, watched him diligently.

The arrow soared through the air and struck the target…. But a fair way down from the center. In fact, it was nothing short of a miracle the arrow had managed to strike the target at all.

With Harwin and Ser Corbus’ oversight, Derrik had become a decent swordsman for his age. But as of late, Derrik had developed a more serious interest in cultivating skill with a bow as well. This pleased you; not only had you been taught to shoot from a young age, but your father and brother had been as well. Seeing your eldest son take an interest in upholding the Tyrell family tradition gave you joy.

“Straighten your bow arm,” you instructed him, giving Derrik a small start as he had yet to realize your presence. “And hold firm. You are losing some of the tension halfway through your draw.”

“I advised him of the same, My Lady,” Ser Corbus chimed in.

You gave the man an apologetic look.

Derrik gave you an understanding nod. With a small sigh, he nocked a second arrow and drew back the string. This time, he adhered to the advice of both you and his tutor.

The arrow struck the target just shy of the center. Luciya clapped enthusiastically, causing her older brother to shoot her a grin.

“Perhaps you should listen to the advice of Ser Corbus more often,” you suggested purposefully to Derrik, though you were unable to completely conceal the pleased smile on your lips.

Derrik bowed his head in mild embarrassment. “Yes, Mother. My apologies, Ser Corbus.”

“There is nothing to forgive, My Lord. But, My Lady- I think the young lord could benefit from some additional motivation,” Ser Corbus proposed, looking at you knowingly. “Mayhaps you join us sometime, My Lady? Shooting round for round with Lord Derrik here may do wonders to encourage the lad to sharpen his aim.”

Embarrassment fled Derrik’s face, and instead, he looked downright amused at the proposal. In truth, the idea appealed to you as well.

“I suppose I can spare some time in the name of improving my son’s learning, though it may be a few days before I am able to accommodate that request,” you agreed heartily. You glanced about the training yard, before turning to Derrik and inquiring, “Where are your father and brother?”

“Yield! I yield!”

Your attention was drawn back to the middle of the training yard as the exasperated exclamation rang out. The men who had gathered there muttered amongst themselves, while several others clapped at the display. Eventually, they dispersed one by one, revealing none other than Harwin and Selwin as those who had been sparring in the middle of them all.

Selwin was on his knees, his training sword having been knocked aside. Harwin tossed down his own blunted sword to the dirt before extending his youngest son a helping hand.

Once Selwin was on his feet, Harwin patted him on the back reassuringly. “You held your own for longer than I thought you would, lad.”

Selwin allowed a small smile to slip at his father’s praise, though he looked a bit hesitant to immediately accept it. “Truly?”

Selwin looked every bit like the men of House Tyrell, save Harwin’s hazel eyes. He was tall, just as tall as Derrik actually, and lithe. Despite lacking the same broadness as his father and older brother, Selwin was still dangerous with a sword in his own right, and even at his young age. He had never come to share the same love of learning as Derrik, not by any means. That was a bit unfortunate… You and Harwin would have loved for your son to squire with another lord or knight of high regard, but as Selwin was to inherit either Harrenhal or Highgarden one day, such a luxury could not be afforded. Thankfully, Selwin was understanding of this, and he had continued with his lessons dutifully, despite his lack of enthusiasm for them. However, true light only ever seemed to shine in Selwin’s eyes when training in the yard, riding throughout the grounds on horseback, or exploring along the riverbanks of the Mander.

Selwin was charming too, at festivals and parties alike. He could make conversation just as easily with those many years his senior as he could with the youngest of children. His sweetness from his childhood had carried over to his teenage years, something you were grateful for, and he seldom had an unkind word to offer to or about anyone… unless someone ignited that infamous temper he had inherited from Harwin, that was.

Though he still got along with his older brother, Selwin was not very much like Derrik at all. But you and Harwin were still just as proud of him too.

“Now, Dearest, is it wise to ‘rough up’ our youngest son in such a manner?” you called over to them teasingly.

At the sound of your voice, both Harwin and Selwin looked over as you approached them. The pure love and warmth in Harwin’s eyes as they fell on you never failed to make your heart skip a beat, even after all these years.

“I am afraid you are mistaken, My Love,” Harwin disclaimed politely, taking a step towards you to meet you half-way. “It was our son who was giving me the go of it… for a little while there, at least.”

You pursed your lips and fought off the urge to continue the playful bickering. Upon seeing her father, Luciya reached out to Harwin with grabbing hands. He smiled and immediately lifted her from your arms. You let him do so willingly.

“Selwin, we should be on our way soon,” Derrik called over from across the yard as he handed his bow over to Ser Corbus. “Maester Thomos will be cross with us if we are late for our accounting lessons again.”

“Now, we wouldn’t want that,” you commented, looking back at Selwin.

Your youngest son looked about as excited at the idea of an hour of accounting lessons as you would have expected him to be. However, you all knew that if Selwin was to be a lord with a keep of his own one day, an understanding of finances could only be beneficial.

You tilted your head along encouragingly to him. “Go on, now.”

Selwin still looked less than thrilled, but with a nod to you and Harwin, set out across the courtyard to join his elder brother. You watched the pair of them meet up and head out of the training yard altogether before you finally turned back to Harwin.

“Now, Sweet Girl,” Harwin said, readjusting his hold on Luciya and lifting her so that their matching eyes were level. “Not that I am upset by it, but what might you and your mother be doing out here?”

“As I believe Bryna put it, our daughter was acting ‘finicky’ this morning,” you relayed, taking a step closer to them. You ran a light hand over Luciya’s back soothingly.

Harwin frowned at you, feigning shock. He demanded, “Who? This Sweet Girl?”

Luciya smiled at him; the sight was a perfect mirror of Harwin’s own.

Harwin declared firmly, “Another mistake must have been made, Lady Wife. For it could not have been this little lass.” While Luciya was mesmerized by her father’s animated speech, she had failed to notice his spare hand mischievously reaching up. She was sent into a brief fit of giggles as Harwin’s fingers danced across her ribs. “Our daughter is not even capable of being anything less than content, I can assure you.”

You hummed in slight protest, but played along anyway. “But of course not, my Lord Husband. Our daughter is perfectly well behaved, always.”

“Good,” Harwin huffed half-seriously, dropping his hand and allowing Luciya a moment to catch her breath. Then, he placed a quick kiss on her cheek, earning yet another giggle from her. “I am glad we are of the same mind on this matter, My Lady.”

You rolled your eyes good naturedly.

Harwin made a show of surveying the training yard, before looking back at your daughter. “Now that your brothers are gone,” he began, speaking so softly that only you and Luciya were likely to hear him, “Shall we venture down to the kitchens? I heard they brought in several baskets of fresh fireplums this morning…”

Luciya’s eyes lit up at the mere mention of her favorite sweet.

“Harwin!” you scolded him half-heartedly. “‘Tis not yet midday. That would hardly be appropriate.”

“Fireplums?” Lucyia echoed, glancing between you and Harwin with a questioning look and a small, but undeniable, pout forming on her lips.

“It would be a shame to break her heart, My Love,” Harwin acknowledged pointedly, giving you a similar pouting look. You wanted to curse; your husband knew exactly what he was doing.

You tried to hold steadfast, you really did, but between the pleading look from your daughter and Harwin, the battle was a lost cause. Sighing defeatedly, you agreed, “Let us go find some fireplums, Sweetling.”

Luciya clapped gleefully. Smirking victoriously, Harwin put his free hand on the small of your back to guide you as the three of you left the training yard in search of a tasty late morning snack.

After a particularly tasty and fulfilling dinner, the soft crackling of the fire was nearly enough to lull Harwin to sleep.

Still, he trudged on.

As Harwin sat at his designated desk in your joint study, his hands began to ache with each letter penned upon the parchment before him, and his fingers began to tremble on the quill in his grip from sheer fatigue. Seeking a quick distraction, his eyes rose and flitted across the room, over towards the fireplace.

It took you and Harwin a significant amount of time to be comfortable with the ideas of open fires following the fire at Harrenhal years ago. Even now, neither you nor Harwin were comfortable with fires being fueled or stroked any further than what was necessary to keep the flames alive. But the season was beginning to change once more; the pleasant heat of the day had begun to give way to the chilly air at night, which left neither of you with much of a choice in the matter.

Fire was a necessary evil, Harwin thought to himself bitterly.

The firefly pin still rested on the upper left corner of his desk, where it had sat for the last several years.

You had presented it to him the morning after the fire at Harrenhal. A suspicious man, who had been apprehended sometime in the night, and dead by his own hand come the morning, had had it pinned to his cloak. You had sworn to the gods that the firefly pin looked familiar, and Harwin was inclined to agree. He had seen something extremely similar to it as well… somewhere. Harwin knew that to be as true as he knew his own name. But, for the life of him, Harwin couldn’t place where he had seen it before.

It was extremely suspicious, and Harwin was left with more questions than answers.

How had the fire started? Was it truly an accident, or was there a darker reason behind it? There were only so many things one could attribute to being a part of some dreaded curse… But if the fire had been intentional, who would have had the motive to orchestrate such a terrible act?

Lord Lyonel was a man who did not have a single enemy, at least not any that Harwin knew of. His father was a good natured, if plainly honest, man. And while you and Harwin had inadvertently made yourselves targets within the Red Keep due to your relations with Princess Rhaenyra, Harwin doubted that the reach of the vipers within would be able extend to that of his home, Harrenhal. And he doubted even more the capability of a mother, though a Queen she may be, to knowingly conspire to murder your children.

For a time, the unwavering need Harwin felt to deliver justice on behalf of his father had all but consumed him. A man driven nearly mad, he ceaselessly sought explanation to questions that may never be answered, due to the sheer nature of the event. He had questioned countless people, and had probably dolled out a few too many undeserved threats.

His sisters were quick to dismiss the entire thing as an unfortunate, though coincidental tragedy. Even Larys, through the letters by raven, suggested it was an accident. With the various new construction projects, as well as the simple fact that Harrenhal had burned once before, he argued it was not too difficult to imagine that someone mishandling a torch, or some fallen spark from a bedroom flame, could have quickly set the tower ablaze.

Harwin had even asked your opinion on the matter. He could tell you had been reluctant to say anything that might encourage his incessant inquisition, but still, you conceded that, despite the many reasons one could argue the fire truly was an accident, you were more hesitant than his siblings to declare it as such.

It was only the love he bore for you and your sons that had pulled Harwin back from the brink of instability. And Harwin did not care to know the version of himself he’d been during the weeks following the passing of his father ever again.

Finally tearing his eyes away, Harwin looked over to the side of the room next, and immediately noticed that you too had taken a break from your own writing to stare into the flickering flames. As you sat at your own desk, which was positioned adjacent to his own, Harwin watched you contentedly, and he bit the inside of his cheek to contain his smile.

You looked just as tired as he felt, but there was an overwhelming warmth that flooded his heart every time he laid eyes upon you, no matter what state you were in. The feeling had not given way to time, despite over fifteen years of marriage. Harwin hoped it never would.

But, as if you felt his eyes on you, you suddenly regained focus, and slowly swiveled your head to glance over at him. Unrelenting, Harwin offered you a small, coy smile. He was not embarrassed to have been caught staring at you, not at all. Why be embarrassed that he was married to the most gorgeous, intelligent, brave, and enchanting woman in the whole realm? Rather, Harwin couldn’t help but feel humbled, and, truthfully, a little bit satisfied with himself that you had attempted to steal a glance at him.

You returned his smile easily, the gesture looking completely love-stricken. Harwin did not know if it was even possible for the love you felt for him to run deeper than the love he felt for you, but he did not doubt your intentions, nor your willingness to try.

After a moment, your focus returned to your own letter that you were in the midst of writing.

Not a day went by that Harwin didn’t find himself thanking the gods for your shining presence in his life. As far as he was concerned, every moment spent with you was time well spent. However, quiet evenings like this had come to be some of Harwin’s favorite opportunities, and he looked forward to and relished every moment he could.

Thankfully, most evenings seemed to progress the same as of late. After dinner, it was typical that Derrik and Selwin would excuse themselves to partake in whatever hobbies pleased them before retiring for the evening, whilst Nanny Bryna would offer to put Luciya to bed. It created a perfect opportunity for the two of you to relax and unwind from the day together, and catch up on any correspondence or other business that needed tending to.

It was no secret, nor did Harwin try to disguise it as such, that hours of writing business correspondence, drafting agreements, and maintaining general communication with his steward in Harrenhal, Lord Dannis of House Chambers, was one of Harwin’s least favorite aspects about having inherited his family lordship. In fact, it was probably the second worst aspect about the whole inheritance, with the first having been the loss of his father.

Harwin supposed he could have let Lord Dannis carry out his duties for him... Dannis, the uncle of the current Lord of House Chambers, Everan, was experienced, and had served Lord Lyonel faithfully for many years. But Harwin could not bring himself to sully the memory of his father by letting the knowledge he had been able to impart on him before his ultimately passing go to waste. And, given that Harwin and your family had not had even a semi-permanent residence at Harrenhal since that dreadful fire, maintaining his lordship through communication with Lord Dannis was his only option. The memory of the fire was still so haunting for each of you… no one was likely to return to Harrenhal for some time yet.

…

All personal qualms about the tedious writing aside, Harwin would never vocalize discontent with spending your evenings in the shared study. You would have confined yourself to the room for several hours anyways, as was what you deemed necessary to keep up with your own family duties… But it was clear to each of you that the evenings were far more tolerable when you shared them with each other.

Harwin’s eyes continued to linger over you as a look of concentration crept over your face. The feather of the quill in your hand flickered with your sharp and precise movements. He felt his chest warm with pride. For someone who had not been raised to inherit Highgarden, or taught how to properly manage the responsibilities that came along with such a claim, you certainly did not show it. You had taken nearly every letter, audience, charitable work, and all other duties in stride. Harwin was almost, almost, envious of how natural it all came to you… But he always felt more pride than anything else.

… And, Harwin had to admit that seeing you, his beloved wife, hold such a commanding position of power was very entrancing.

Harwin was pulled from his thoughts by the sounds of rustling fabric coming from the sofa on the other side of the room. His eyes followed his ears, and the smile on his face shifted from one of flirtatious amusement to one of great fondness.

Of course, there were some nights when you and Harwin were not truly alone in your study.

Luciya was snuggled into the plush cushions of the sofa quite happily, her curls splayed about the pillow beneath her head without care. As soft snores slipped from her mouth, it was evident that she was blissfully unaware of anything else going on in the room. As far as you and Harwin were concerned, you were content to keep it that way. The gods had gifted you both with Derrik and Selwin, who brought honor upon your houses in their own ways. But Harwin was inclined to believe that the pair of you had been truly blessed with the addition of your daughter.

Abrupt, though gentle, knocks sounded on the door.

You bid the individual on the other side to enter in a soft tone, so as to not disturb Luciya.

The door opened slowly, and in strolled Lord Elwood Meadows.

The brother of your late mother had served your father and brother dutifully as Steward of Highgarden. Whilst serving you, his performance had been no less exemplary. In fact, the more the Lord Elwood aged, the more dedicated he became to his duties as Steward. Lord Elwood was practically the Lord of House Meadows in name only; his eldest son, and your cousin, Lord Theo, had been ruling over the family seat of Grassfield Keep in his father’s absence for quite some time.

As Lord Elwood came to a stop, his attention naturally shot over towards the sofa first. He visibly fought the urge to smile upon the sight of his sleeping grand niece. Then, he looked between the pair of you with purpose. “It would seem as though Lady Luciya has exhausted herself for the day… Mayhaps it has something to do with the fireplums that have reportedly disappeared from the kitchens?”

You and Harwin gleaned at each other knowingly at your uncle’s suggestion. Amusement was written over both of your faces.

Then, Lord Elwood offered, “Shall I call for Bryna, My Lady?”

“Thank you, Uncle, but that will not be necessary,” you assured him, resting your quill in the nearby ink pot. “We are to retire soon.”

“Very well, My Lady… Well, my apologies for the lateness of the hour, but Maester Thomos informed me that two ravens have arrived since dinner. And, since you have yet to retire, I thought you might care to receive the messages.”

“You thought correctly, Uncle. Thank you for bringing them to us at once.”

Lord Elwood crossed the room and deposited the small scrolls in your hand. With one more charmed glance at Luciya, he nodded to the both of you staunchly and exited the study. The door shut softly behind him.

Harwin watched you with interest as you glanced at the seals of each of the scrolls in your hand. You rose from your seat and strolled over to him, handing him one of the scrolls wordlessly.

The seal on the scroll was one Harwin recognized well.

Malvales.

The sigil that Harwin’s brother, Larys, had taken for his own since having been appointed as Master of Whisperers was an easily identifiable one. Harwin broke the seal without a thought and opened the scroll, reading the words upon the parchment promptly.

As Harwin read line by line, you gently sat on his lap. Undeterred by your actions, Harwin’s focus continued to be on the letter in his hand, but his spare arm came up to wrap around your waist, steadying and holding you close. You made yourself comfortable, and then broke open the seal of the second letter to begin reading as well. For a few quiet moments, nothing but the crackling fire and the snores from Luciya could be heard in the room.

But then, you sighed.

Harwin had just finished reading. He looked up at you worriedly, noting the seal still clinging to the one edge of the parchment. It was another one that he also recognized well.

Grapes.

There were very few individuals who used that seal that would have written to you with kind intentions.

He inquired, “From the Arbor?... Is all well?”

You nodded in response to his query, though your eyes never drifted from the letter in your hand. “Yes, it is only from my aunt… She has written to inform me that her granddaughter, Celesse, is traveling to King’s Landing. It seems that she, along with her cousin, Joanna Lannister, are to be taken in by the royal household as ladies in waiting for Princess Helaena.”

Harwin watched you carefully for a moment, waiting to see if you would say anything further that would indicate your opinion of the news. When you said nothing, he noted offhandedly in a light tone, “Dangerous place, is it not? For two unescorted ladies to roam about, all while serving a princess of the realm?”

Harwin’s teasing to what was once your own circumstance did not go over your head, and you looked at him with mock offense. “It is truly a preposterous notion, isn’t it? Young ladies and a Princess, eating, singing, dancing, and otherwise passing the time until they catch the attention of a suitor? The horror.”

“There are some strange men among the Red Keep, My Lady.”

You hummed. “I’ve met a few of them… In fact, there was this one-”

Harwin rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath, “Oh no-”

“I heard that he could pull a fully occupied carriage all by himself,” you recounted dramatically. “I also heard that he once single-handedly closed the courtyard doors of the Red Keep when the chains had broken-”

“Now those are truly ‘preposterous’ notions, My Love. Complete fabrications of-”

“And, do you know what they called him? This infamous man?”

Harwin pursed his lips. You merely smiled at him, clearly amused by your own theatrics.

“... Breakbones?”

“No,” You scoffed, and reached for him, lightly cupping the side of his face closest to you. Softly, you corrected, “They called him my husband.”

Harwin bit the inside of his cheek once more. Even as a young man, when pretty women of all sorts started to pay him mind, he had never, ever considered himself one who was capable of blushing. Or one to be unnerved by the presence and words of any woman.

But you were not just any woman. You held his heart, confidence, and happiness all in the palms of your hands.

You placed a brief, though undeniably sweet, kiss upon his lips. When you withdrew from him a few seconds later, Harwin immediately found himself wishing you had not.

“But do not fret, Dearest,” you assured him, swiftly returning to the original topic as you lowered your hand from his face. “If Lady Celesse is even half as conniving as her father, I am sure she will fare in the capital just fine.”

Your cousin, Garrett Redwyne, once a second son, was now Lord of the Arbor. A few years past, the Stranger visited your family again. In one swoop, fever had claimed your uncle by marriage, Lord Gilbar, and your other cousin, Jeran, Garrett’s older brother. Jeran, foolishly, had never married, nor sired any legitimate heirs of his own by the time of his death. Unfortunately, that meant that the family seat passed on to his younger brother.

Harwin knew that the turn of events did not sit right with you. And frankly, things did not sit well with him either. It did not seem fair for someone who had so cruelly tried to prey upon a young woman in grief and steal her family’s birthright to then be rewarded with a title and holding of his own. Like you, Garrett had not been born to inherit the family lordship… But the gods had deemed it so, just the same.

And yet… Harwin dared to venture that there was another matter about your cousin that upset you even more. Not even a year after your brother’s passing, Garrett had taken a woman to wife- one Cerelle Lannister. Harwin could tell from the short time you had spent with the young woman in King’s Landing, you had enjoyed her presence. At the time of Derron’s death, his betrothal to Lady Cerelle had been imminent.

Not only did Lord Garrett become Lord of the Arbor, but he had also wed the woman who, in another life, might have been your Good Sister.

“What does your brother say?” you asked him then, discarding your scroll upon his desk.

“The usual,” Harwin answered at once, happy to see you had opted not to dwell on the thought of your cousin. “He has inquired about the state of the family, and as to how the children are.”

“That is kind of him,” you acknowledged sincerely. “I would suggest you write back to him and extend an invitation for him to visit and see the children for himself… But I believe we both know what his response would be.”

A regretful declination.

Not but a week after the fire at Harrenhal, Larys had been appointed to King Viserys’ small council as Master of Whisperers. It was an honorable appointment, but the position occupied so much of Larys’ time that, while Harwin, you, your sons, Lilyan, Eyla, and their families gathered at Harrenhal to lay Lord Lyonel to rest, Larys had been bound to King’s Landing by his duties… At least, that was the reason he cited in a letter to Harwin. Harwin suspected Larys’ failure to attend might have also had something to do with his brother’s feelings about the passing of their father. Different sorts of people grieved in different ways, and Larys had always been a bit of an outlier. But Harwin loved his brother, and did not beseech him for his decision. Even if his absence was greatly felt at the funeral.

“My brother’s duties keep him confined to the Red Keep, My Love,” Harwin reminded you. His arm around your waist tightened, holding you closer to him. Harwin pressed a light, nearly teasing kiss on the back of your neck. He smirked to himself as you shook off a small shiver in response. “Just as our duties keep us bound to Highgarden.”

At this, you stiffened in Harwin’s hold. “That reminds me,” you began, rising from his lap, though not without Harwin making a half-hearted attempt to keep you restrained as you were. “There is something else I wished to speak with you about.”

At the seriousness of your tone, the playful smirk fell from Harwin’s lips. “What is it?”

You hesitated. “These were not the only ravens we received today… There was a third. I received the letter this morning.”

Harwin picked up on your hesitation immediately. He coaxed encouragingly, “Whatever the burden is, share it with me. Who sent it?”

You said nothing, and instead reached into the pocket of your skirt. The third scroll was withdrawn from the fabric with a natural flourish. Harwin took it from your extended hand curiously, and opened it at once.

As he began to read the letter- one that he quickly realized was from Princess Rhaenyra, no less- he glanced over at you out of the corner of his eyes on the occasion. As he devoured line by line, you began to pace nearby.

Once Harwin was done reading, he understood why you appeared so visibly nervous.

“Well?”

Harwin contemplated his next words with significant caution. “‘Tis an… interesting offer, I suppose. What do you make of it?”

“It would not be King’s Landing, but it would be close.”

Dragonstone was a lot closer to the capital than Highgarden was. Too close for Harwin’s liking.

“We left King’s Landing for a reason, My Love,” he reminded you patiently. “The gossip, the rumors? Our- my- presence threatened Princess Rhaenyra’s credibility, and it put all of us in danger.”

“I recall all of that, as you know.”

You spoke the truth, Harwin had no doubt of that. But the thought of what might have happened to you, or your children, had your family stayed in the capital, still troubled him deeply. His father had alluded to you, Derrick, and Selwin being taken away by the headsman. Harwin would rather fall upon his own sword than risk that nightmare becoming a reality.

“I cannot put you, or the children, in danger,” Harwin told you firmly. “I would never dream of commanding you, or declaring what you may or may not do. But I must protest at the idea of endangering you all for the mere sake of a social visit.”

“I know, Dearest,” you promised, your tone lightening at the growing traces of distress you detected within his words. “I know you would not have us put ourselves in danger. And I would not have you put yourself in danger, either… Neither would Princess Rhaenyra.”

Harwin got the funny sense that you were not finished with your thoughts. “... But?”

“But,” you continued, confirming his suspicions, “if the Princess knows of the… delicacy, of our situation, it makes me question why she has extended the invitation at this particular time. After all, though we frequently exchanged letters, it has been years since we have all seen one another.”

None of you had seen the Princess, or her sons, since you fled King’s Landing prior to your return to Harrenhal. And Harwin had to admit, the timing of the invitation was a bit peculiar. Why now?

“I have my suspicions as to why Princess Rhaenyra decided that now is an appropriate time,” you confessed then. “I still have some connections to those who frequent the Red Keep. The rumors report that the King is weak, Harwin. Very weak. They say he could pass any day now… And I suspect Princess Rhaenyra has heard the same.”

…

Damn.

Harwin could think of many, many reasons as to why accepting Princess Rhaenyra’s invitation would not be wise. Reasons that he was certain you could easily deduce as well. However, he would have had to be cruel to outright reject the offer, when he knew that accepting it may mean bringing some comfort to an old friend. You still considered Princess Rhaenyra as your oldest and most trusted companion. Besides the fact that she was to be Queen one day, Harwin held her in very high regard as well, and was also fortunate enough to call her a friend. Gods, years ago, he had loved Princess Rhaenyra’s sons as though they were his own… And perhaps part of him still did.

Both you and Harwin had lost your own fathers, whom you loved greatly. How could Harwin make any serious arguments for declining Princess Rhaenyra’s invitation, when accepting it would allow the both of you to offer her comfort in this trying time?

…

But King Viserys, gods be good, was not gone from this world yet. And the Hightowers still had sizable control over the Red Keep and its inhabitants. The thought of being so near King’s Landing still made Harwin wary.

And the thought of leaving Highgarden at all made him greatly uneasy.

As if you could read Harwin’s rapidly racing thoughts, you ran a light hand through his curls. Despite his worry, Harwin leaned into the familiar and comforting touch.

“I understand your fears, Dearest,” you assured him softly, but sincerely. “And I share them as well. But we cannot stay here for the rest of our days. Highgarden may be a refuge, yes… But it was never meant to be a place of solitude. There is an entire realm outside of these walls, and many others whom we have loyalties to.”

Harwin, who had closed his eyes at your gentle ministrations, opened them once more. There was no need for him to verbally admit your assumption was correct. You had seen right through him, as you almost always did.

Since the fire at Harrenhal, the pair of you had created a peaceful life for yourselves in Highgarden. Within the castle walls, you, Harwin, Derrik, Selwin, and now Luciya, were safe. For years, it had seemed as though no evil could touch you here.

Highgarden was a solace.

… And while Harwin wanted so desperately to keep that solace, and protect you all, he was not a fool. He knew that such a blissful dream, no matter how wonderful it was, could not be sustained indefinitely. You were right- the two of you owed allegiance to others who did not reside in your ancestral home. Besides King Viserys, the most important of these allegiances was the one to Princess Rhaenyra.

Harwin sighed, and rose to his feet. He felt your eyes on him with every step as he walked across the room and over towards the sofa. When he reached it, he leaned down, gently took Luciya into his arms, and sat upon the cushions where she had been snoozing away a moment before. Not deterred in the slightest, Luciya continued to sleep while she subconsciously shifted around to make herself comfortable in her father’s arms.

You were quick to follow, and took a seat beside him. You tucked yourself into his side calmly. When you were settled, Harwin tilted his head to rest upon yours.

For a few moments, the two of you silently watched your daughter, with Luciya resting her head on Harwin’s one shoulder, and you resting your head on the other.

He remembered how scared he was when Luciya was born. With Derrik and Selwin, he’d been nervous with the idea of parenthood… But they were his sons. Harwin had been able to take some comfort in the knowledge that he could raise them with a similar loving upbringing that he had experienced as a child. Studying with maesters, training in the yard with the master at arms… He had an understanding of what Derrik and Selwin would face.

But a daughter? That was a completely different and uncharted territory. Harwin had sisters, and nieces now as well, but nothing compared to this. Harwin had not been prepared to have his heart shared by two women, but that is what had come to transpire. Thankfully, Luicya had been merciful to him in this regard- she had only ever asked for attention, and love. Things Harwin was more than willing to give her, and in plentiful amounts at that.

Harwin wanted to give your daughter the world.

… Which, in a queer way, may have meant that she ought to actually see some of it.

A hazy vision of Luciya on a sandy shore flashed across his mind. The sound of her laughter ringing out amongst the crowing of seagulls rang faintly in his ears.

Harwin pressed a kiss to the top of Luciya’s head. “... She will enjoy the sea, I think.”

You lifted your head off his shoulder slowly, and looked at him with wide and slightly watery eyes as you realized the deeper implication behind his simple words.

To Dragonstone.

After a swift kiss to Harwin’s cheek, you placed your hand on Luciya’s back, your fingers brushed against Harwin’s as you did so. “She will. And Derrik and Selwin will enjoy seeing the Princes again.”

“The Princes,” Harwin echoed blankly. “Gods, it has been so long… They must be nearly men by now.”

You smirked. “As are our sons, Harwin.”

Would Jacaerys and Lucerys even recall him? Harwin hoped so. Despite the passage of time, he still harbored a fondness for them. And he would have been lying if he denied worrying about them over the years. Despite his faults, losing Ser Laenor in such a tragic way, only to have the role of a father filled promptly- almost too promptly- by the likes of Prince Daemon Targaryen?

That would have been a rotten lot for anyone, let alone young boys whose fates were already precariously hanging on with little more than the unyielding love from their royal grandsire.

… But the more Harwin thought about that, the more quickly he was coming around to the idea of visiting Dragonstone. Having spent a decent amount of time in one another’s presence during their time serving the City Watch, Harwin had seen sides of the Rogue Prince he could only hope that the young Princes Jacaerys and Lucerys had not yet heard of. While Harwin may have had his own opinions about how he approached fatherhood, he would never deny that Ser Laenor Velaryon was an honorable man, even if it was in his own way. On the other hand, Harwin was not sure Prince Daemon even knew the meaning of the word.

The idea of the young Princes following after the likes of their now stepfather bothered Harwin. They were older now, and though not yet fully grown men, they were indisputably no longer children… But perhaps it was not so late that Harwin could offer himself as an alternative fatherly figure?

If the Princes even still wanted to view him as such, that was.

But, once again, you soothed his worries with your calming words.

“I am certain that the Princes will be pleased to see you too, Dearest.”

Luciya yawned in her sleep, breaking the tension of your conversation. A light laugh escaped both of you.

Then, Harwin reaffirmed, “If the Princess requests our family’s presence on Dragonstone, she shall have it.”

There was a strange feeling in the air… a sense that the lives of your family were about to change in a dramatic fashion.

If only the two of you had known then just how drastic the changes were going to be.

“I will write back to Princess Rhaenyra with our answer,” you informed Harwin. “But I daresay that can wait ‘til the morrow.”

Harwin rose to his feet, and you followed suit. However, he must not have done as well of a job concealing any lingering concern as he had hoped to. As he took a step towards the door to leave, you reached out, and placed a hand on his arm, halting him.

“Everything will be alright, Dearest.”

Harwin gave you a small smile, feeling peculiarly bittersweet. “I know, My Love. Highgarden has been a refuge… But I know I will find solace wherever I am, so long as I am with you.”

A/N: Poor, naive Harwin. Bless him.🖤 He just wants to see the good in his brother, y’all. I’m sure that definitely won’t come back to bite him in the future or anything-

Thank you for reading!🖤 Next part will probably be at least a 2 parter again, but it may even be a 3 parter, depending on how long it ends up being and what plot points I choose to include in it.

But before then, I’m going to try and see if I can put together a couple little headcanons/blurbs later this week, so if that’s something you’re interested in, keep an eye out for those😊 I definitely want to take a crack at more headcanons of Harwin with the kiddos, but also running the Reach and just general married life with Harwin, so we’ll see what happens.

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