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just-some-random-blogger · 2 years

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I LOVEEEE your daemon angst!!!! MORE MORE MORE 😃😃

I'll Play The Fool Instead

Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Harwin Strong x Reader

Summary: The king's younger brother was as insufferable as the rumors made him out to be. Having caught his eye at a feast, your instant reflex was to snarl your teeth at the prince, until you realized your parents were against the idea of him lingering around you. Ever since then, it was Daemon, you, and not at all secret rendezvous. Oh, and ser Harwin.

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Bad parental relations, graphic mentions of physical violence and injuries, fem!reader, angst? i truly cant tell, typos, etc.

A/N: I HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE WHY I MADE THIS SO LONG KILL ME NOW. ALSO ???? is it even angst i can't tell, can someone tell me i'm being fr right now Anyway, this was anon was most probably a responding to another ask i had where I said I wouldn't be continuing my angst fic called Doves, Snakes, Dragons, so you should go read that i guess, though it literally has nothing to do with this fic HAAHAH. also the title is a line from the english version of congratulations by day6

The first time I ever encountered the prince was during a feast where he said he liked the color of my dress.

"I like the color of your dress," a voice calls from behind me, making me and my lady friends halt our giggles and turn over to whom spoke.

My brow quirks and my grin falters into that of annoyance, "why thank you, Prince Daemon."

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.

My line of sight drifts back down to the man before me, and I only have the strength to reply to him with a sad smile.

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