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whisperofjasper · 3 years ago

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Ser Harwin Strong - Across The Ballroom

pairing: ser harwin strong x targaryen!afab!reader

summary: reader is the second born princess and could not give a fuck about the wedding or the politics of king’s landing. all she wants is to rid herself of her dress and fly off on a dragon. thankfully for her, she comes into acquaintance with a certain knight of the realm as the night delves into chaos.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: first fic on the account! let me know what you thought and feel free to shoot me a request.

warnings: violence, mentions of incest, blood & injury

Y/N wanted nothing more than to leave the ballroom, rip off the ridiculous frock her dear stepmother had picked out for her and take off on her dragon Vaehra. But, alas, as the sister of the bride and princess of the realms, she was duty-bound to remain. She was surprised that her father hadn't thought to marry her off at the same time. However, she supposed it would deprive the kingdoms of Westeros of another week's worth of libations and debauchery.

She was her sister's opposite that night;. At the same time, Rhaenyra was donned in virginal white with rubies in her hair, while she was clothed in the traditional Targaryen black. She couldn't say the dress was ugly; it was woven intricately with threads of crimson and gold. The red of her house takes the form of their famed dragons in flight and mid-battle. And the lines of gold make the images of waves to honour the house Velaryon. It was beautiful, but it had been decided that she had no need for air at the feast.

Sitting at the grand table, she waited with her father, sister and Lyonel Strong. She was seated next to the Hand and Alicent, but the queen had yet to make her appearance. She had tried conversing with Lord Strong though he seemed preoccupied with watching the masses fall into the room. Drinking deeply from her goblet, she shot a disdainful look at Jason Lannister, who, like always, was trying to worm his way into the good graces of the crown. However, his twin was more palatable, Tyland had a seat on the small council, and from what Rhaenyra had shared, he had a good head on those shoulders.

From the corner of her eye, a head of dark hair caught her attention, and her focus was pulled to one of the great tables, where the two sons of Lord Strong. Larys was the younger; she hadn't spoken to him much since his time at The Keep, but she knew he was one of keen intelligence. The eldest son, Ser Harwin, was the captain of the Gold Cloaks. He was considered the strongest man in all six kingdoms and one of the realms' fiercest knights. It was also known that he was one of the finer-looking young lords, many having put too much faith that their titles alone would secure them a wife and the gold in their pockets. She watched him laugh and drink with those seated with him, fighting a smile when he'd get overly invested in some tale and bump into his brother. Eventually, Y/N had to look away, noticing that her father and Lord Strong were giving her looks after laughing at one of his antics and following her line of sight.

"Lord Corlys of House Velaryon!" Ser Westerling's announcement quieted the hall as the Velaryons entered, led by Lord Corlys and her cousin. Behind the couple followed their children, Leanor and Leana, remembering their childhoods together. From what she could remember, Leanor had never been cruel or cowardly, which she hoped he carried into adulthood. Gods knew that Rhaenyra would need a husband to withstand the pressures of the throne. She smiled genuinely as their house made the approach, wanting to foster as much goodwill as possible. As Lord Velaryon and his family took their places at the head table, Y/N's focus stayed on the courtiers and the one who seemed to be solely interested in Laenor. He hesitated to join the rest of his company, making Y/N's eyes narrow.

Everyone had begun to sit when her uncle swaggered in, and the room was silent. In the months leading to the wedding, the rumour that Rhaenyra and Daemon had shared an intimate night in a brothel swept the keep. Y/N didn't know what to make of it; her sister had sworn that they hadn't done anything, and her maidenhood was intact. The fallout had caused both princesses to have increased guards, which had been stifling for her. The only times she was truly left alone were in the evenings or when she flew Vaehra. Her father motioned for a chair to be brought for Daemon; the only option, if he threw her uncle out, it would only further spur on the rumours.

"Be welcome as we join together in celebration. Tonight is only its beginning. We honour the crown's oldest and fiercest ally, House Velaryon. Reaching back to the days of Old Valyria and the Age of Dragons. With House Targaryen and H..." Her father's speech was cut off by the queen finally making her appearance; dressed in green, she had the attention of the hall, more after her house stood as a sign of respect. It was hard to think that Alicent had once been as close to her as Rhaenyra; they were all sisters. They had been raised together and had been each other's closest confidants during the hardships of being a highborn lady in King's Landing. Which she had all but thrown away when she had married their father, less than a year after their mother and infant brother's passing. Rhaenyra and Alicent reconciled for a time, finding some semblance of their old friendship. But Y/N, she couldn't forgive her or her father, no matter how dearly she loved both. So the pair now were distant, and that was at the best of times. It didn't escape Y/N that the dress she was wearing was most likely an attempt at rekindling their relationship.

"Congratulations, Stepdaughter. What a blessing this is for you." Rhaenyra's face and Alicent's removed attitude made Y/N rethink her understanding of their relationship, making a note to question her sister about it once the festivities were over.

"At the end of it all, a royal wedding... between my daughter, my heir... your future Queen... and Ser Laenor Velaryon, the heir to Driftmark."She applauded her father's speech, watching with mild interest as her sister and the groom took the dance floor. They moved across the floor, the steps a traditional valyrian wedding dance. She drank from her goblet, paying little mind to Alicent and Lord Strong, taking a considerable effort to not roll her eyes and the pomp and pageantry. She took in the hall for what felt like the dozenth time, her gaze again drawn to Harwin, but her eyes locked with his. Y/N watched as he continued to converse with those near him, but his gaze remained unflinching. Heat rose to her cheeks under his gaze; it was a rare occurrence that a man would have the balls to look at her. Hiding her smile behind her goblet, his laughter at her sudden shyness made her look away, coincidently timed with the end of the couple's dance.

"I think I'll join Rhaenyra on the floor, Father. Your Grace. Your Lordship." Giving each a curtsey reflecting their station, she rounded the table to find her place in the growing crowd before the musicians began the next song. The smile she had, fell when she was met with the face of Jason Lannister, who was grinning like he had just won a grand prize.

"Your highness, what a coincidence." His tone was thick with sarcasm that she supposed was meant to be charming for the lion.

"Yes, how coincidental we both find ourselves dancing at a celebration, my lord." He laughed at her words, ignoring her disdainful look, flicking his hair over his shoulder, which was unneeded. As the music started, the crowd danced merrily, some fumbling their steps thanks to the freely flowing wine.

"Now that the princess is to be wed, what lies before you?" She was taken aback at his boldness. Her reaction apparently was what he wanted; he looked at her like she was his next hunt. "For so few houses in the realm are worthy of your hand." Y/N was spun out of the view of the Lannister bastard before she had a chance to castrate him. She saw her sister opposite her, Rhaenyra's grin was infectious, Y/N finding her own. The two danced in the middle of the crowd, turning and clapping with the melody, quickly becoming the focus of the celebration. They laughed merrily, and Y/N quickly embraced her sister.

"I'm happy for you sister; let this marriage end any talk of the future of our house." Rhaeynra's eyes were misty, and they hugged for the second time before continuing the dance. She danced with many in the following hour; lords from across the realms had set their sights on her now her sister was unattainable. However, she had her suspicions that many were sour, seeing she was second in line and unlikely to sit on the throne. Y/N was tempted to leave the floor, her feet had grown sore, and the thrill of dancing quickly wore off. But a strong tug pulled her into the embrace of a muscular chest clothed in blue.

"Ser Strong, my apologies." She glanced up at him; a smirk danced on his face.

"You're forgiven," He tugged her back to him as she made to leave again, "as long as you dance with me, as a show of goodwill." Then, in his arms, the ballroom fell away, and the other guests faded into the aether, leaving only them. As they danced, she was acutely aware of his body and when it came close to hers. Crossing the floor, she would feel a rush of heat race through her body when his fingers grazed against her own, pulling her deeper into his thrall.

"I must say Ser Strong, you are quite the dancer, it is most suprising."

"Because I am of the City Watch?"

"No..." She grinned at his confused smile, feeling like she had gained the upper hand on him. They drew closer together as the dance required; out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of white and black cloth in the centre of the floor. "...because the moniker 'Breakbones' suggests an entirely different skillset. Makes one question what skills you have with your hands." Her hand dipped down to take his hand, and she pressed the faintest kiss to his wrist while keeping eye contact with him. Then, she smiled, watching his green eyes darken and swallow his words.

"I must take my leave. Thank you for the dance." Y/N walked deeper into the fray, refusing to look back for fear of her composure breaking and dissolving into a puddle of blushing giggles like a child. Heat flushed to her cheeks; she wasn't used to having such an attraction to a man. In the years after Rhaenyra's ascension to the heir, she carried a small torch for a Lord from the Reach. Still, it couldn't compare to the fire that burned in her gut at the thought of the imposing presence of Harwin Strong.

Screams pulled her from her thoughts, and more and more voices of terror filled the large room, echoing and amplifying the cries. Guests began to panic, rushing in every direction to escape the cause of distress. She lost her footing and tumbled to the ground, her head, back and stomach being kicked or tripped over in the chaos. Then, pushing through the pain, she could stand again, seeing the cause of the terror. Ser Christan Cole was beating Ser Joffery Lonmouth, the younger boy clearly losing the battle and most likely his life as Cole refused to yield. Then, in her daze and distraction, she was thrown again by the crowd falling forward into the banquet table. She felt the sting of glass and metal cutting into her skin before falling to the ground, feeling a sharp but intense pain in her left wrist that made her cry out in pain.

"Princess! Princess Rhaenyra!" She heard the gruff but unmistakable voice of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard calling through the crowd, the rest of the Kingsguard descending onto the floor with him. The sound of flesh hitting flesh grew louder; she curled into herself, fearing the fight had come closer. A large, warm hand pressed into her back gently, making her jump in fear, throwing her uninjured hand in the direction of her would-be assailant. Harwin's face was void of the previous snark and flirtation, now set with focus and what she believed to be anger. He caught her wrist as if it were nothing, smoothly pulling her up and over his shoulder before heading for the exit.

Y/N tried to order him to let her down, but with his pace and her position on his shoulder, her injured wrist cried under the weight of her torso. The screams from the banquet became distant echoes before he let her down with far more care than he did for their exit.

"Easy, I've got you Princess." She didn't know if it was his words or the events of the riot that made her knees go weak; regardless, she began to buckle in his arms. His grip tightened as he tried to keep her upright, coincidentally bringing his face closer to hers.

"What happened in there?" Her focus had begun to return to her, a sudden fear for her sister spiking in her chest.

"Cole, he started attacking Ser Joffery. Ser Westerling saw to your sister, I saw to you." Y/N nodded, holding her injured wrist, trying to not jostle it. Harwin took it in his arms, shooting her an apologetic look when she gasped at the pain. "The Maesters will be overworked with the events of tonight, seeing to the more urgent matters. If you'd allow me, I can wrap this until they can see to your care."

"You know how to..." She began to ask with a raised brow.

"I'm a knight and member of the city watch, Your Highness; I wouldn't have survived this long without some knowledge of mending injuries." She blushed at his comment, feeling foolish for thinking otherwise. Then, whilst looking down at her wrist, she felt his hand gently tilt her chin to look at him. "Do not look away from me Princess. I could feel your eyes from across the ballroom, and if I could wish for only one thing, it would be for you to keep looking at me." His eyes had grown dark again, and his words soft.

She knew at that moment that the lord was going to cause her a lot of trouble. And it was a good thing that she loved trouble.

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