Harwin loved Rhaenyra. Unlike every other noble lady, she was wild, vivacious, and truly lived her heart's desire. Every day with her was a new adventure. Every night a new experience. Harwin was enraptured, not just by her beauty, but by the way she chose to embrace her delights. He was beyond happy to have fathered three strong boys, if only he could openly claim them as his own.
Rhaenyra had talked of doing so in the future, after she had been crowned and held the throne, but Harwin thought it foolish. While he would love to openly be their father, he knew that doing so would put them in danger. That was the one great regret he had in loving and being with Rhaenyra, the danger it caused Rhaenyra, their children, and his own family.
Riding back to Harrenhal with his father was not all together pleasant. He loved his father and cherished spending time with him, but it was clear that his father was currently acting as 'Lyonel Strong, Hand of the King' as opposed to just his father. It was made clear that Harwin continuing to spend time around Rhaenyra was the opposite of what had been desired when he was told to get wed.
"My boy, you aren't stupid, you know the rumors about the boys and their parentage. Why make it worse by continually being seen by Rhaenyra."
"I am her sworn shield."
"A duty that you were formally discharged of."
"No one can protect her better than I can."
"Hogwash, Harwin, look at me. You have a wife now; you should be staying in Harrenhal and be there for her and your son."
Harwin pinched the bridge of his nose and then looked at his father's gruff visage.
"Father, I can't stay away from her. I will do my duty with Lyra, but I will not abandon Rhaenyra."
"I'm not blind. I can't afford to be. You risk not only your life, but our entire family. What do you think Laenor would do if he found out?"
Despite his effort, Harwin's face must have shown some amusement. Lyonel grabbed the reins of his horse and pulled their mounts together.
"Listen to me." His voice was angry, but tinged with fear. "You may think Laenor is all courtly manners and genteel social graces. He wears that mask well. But you would do well to remember that his great grand-uncle was Maegor the Cruel. And behind that mask of civility lies a monster you should not prod. Did you know that all along the Dornish Marches there has been more peace and tranquility than ever in living memory?"
"What does that have to do with Laenor?" Harwin asked in confusion at the abrupt change of topic.
"The Martells are terrified of Laenor and Seasmoke. You haven't read the reports that I received about the fighting in the Stepstones. Thousands dead, the Triarchy cowed, and the Dornish fleet ravaged. He was an unstoppable nightmare who hunted and burned day and night. Seven Hells boy, the Dornish defied the Conqueror himself and are now frightened rats before the terror that is Laenor 'The Dark Storm of Driftmark' Velaryon. And you choose to give horns to such a man!?"
Harwin sighed. "Father, I will not say things I have sworn to secrecy, but I do not fear Laenor."
His sire looked at him in astonishment and then he grimaced. "Gods be good, he knows already. The rumors of his 'preferences' are true then." He gave a bitter laugh. "All of you just dance to pretty Rhaenyra's tune, don't you. I am wasting my breath."
Harwin watched as his father spurred the horse and rode ahead. He knew the King wouldn't be told; it would destroy the family. Disappointing his father was never a good feeling. He was not sure how to rectify the situation, and so he simply rode in silence.
Weeks passed and they did speak, but conversation was often stilted. Finally, they and their entourage arrived at Harrenhal. His wife, Lyra, now known as Lady Strong, greeted them. She was pretty enough, and witty, but compared to the bonfire of Rhaenyra, she was but a nice-looking candle. He kissed her, but there was no love in it. This too, he regretted. But he found solace in the fact that she had been raised up to high nobility with their marriage.
"Welcome home, my lords."
They embraced and then his father hugged Lyra and they enjoyed a festive return home. Dinner was not a crowded affair, but many of the family retainers had come to welcome them home. It was a good evening and he enjoyed holding his son Braxton. The boy was a bit sickly in early infancy, but was doing fine now. In truth, he and Lyra could have come to King's Landing for Elaena's name-day celebration and tournament, but he had convinced his wife otherwise.
"I am glad to see you back, my lord. Will you be staying long?"
"I am unsure, my wife. I am needed on Dragonstone, but I will certainly stay for as long as my father intends to carry on his visit."
She nodded and looked hesitant. "Will you wish to lay with me tonight?"
"If you wish it, but if you are still weary from preparing our return, we need not do so the first night of my arrival."
"No… no, I do wish it."
Harwin agreed, but this was still so awkward for him. He couldn't allow himself to develop affection for Lyra, but he also did not wish to bring her sadness. Their lovemaking lacked passion, but it was done and she seemed happier for it.
When next he awoke, it was not yet morning, but it was bright. Lyra was shouting and crying, and Harwin could see flames and smoke upon the door. He leapt up from the bed and ran to the cradle where his son was and wrapped him in another blanket.
"Keep the boy's face covered, but not fully. We must get to safety."
Harwin took clothing and wrapped it around his arm and tried to open the door. It was stuck. He kicked it once, but the thick oaken door did not budge. Lyra gave another cry. Harwin stepped back from the door several paces and then charged it shoulder first, bringing every bit of strength that had made him known as 'Breakbones' to bear on the door.
It tore off its hinges and he collapsed into the flaming hallway, coughing loudly. He gestured for Lyra to come and they raced for safety to the stairs. His father's room was nearby, he should get him out too. But as he turned, Lyra begged him to stay with her. There were yet flames ahead, but the smoke was less dense as they descended the stairs. He coughed and steadied himself as they made it down the last set and ran out of the conflagration.
Upon the grass he fell to his knees and his body swayed, but he wasn't done. He had to get back to get his father. The castle was burning, all the wooden sections, the carpets, and furniture was alight, even if the stone did not burn.
However, as he stepped forward, he heard a crash and the flames roared to greet him. He couldn't get through. A servant grabbed at his arm. "My lord, you can't go in there, it is death."
Harwin collapsed again in a coughing fit.
"Others take you; I know," he bitterly replied as he wept. He knew his father, the man who had raised him and taught him of honor and justice would be among the dead on this dark day.
***
Aegon bit back a curse as the wooden practice sword hit him in the shin. He hobbled for a moment and tried to strike his brother back but the smaller boy dodged.
"Mind your footwork," Ser Criston Cole advised.
Aegon took a deep breath and counted, but before he could get to four his younger brother dashed forward and swiped at him. Aegon was forced to block and then he screamed in anger and launched a brutal barrage of attacks at his brother's head.
Aemond smirked at him as he backstepped away from the blows. Aegon was full of wrath as he furiously tried to close in on his brother. It wasn't fair! He was older by three years! Why couldn't he win? Aemond waited until Aegon had tired himself out and then struck back with his own combination, feinting at the legs, and then striking him in the side and following it up with a true hit to the calf that buckled Aegon's leg.
Aegon dropped to the ground and Cole called for a halt. Aemond gave another vicious smirk while he offered a hand to his sibling. Aegon grabbed the hand and yanked Aemond down to the ground. He rolled atop him and punched him once in the face, he attempted a second, but Cole was there to pull him off.
"Enough! Your mother will hear of this. What you did was dishonorable my prince. The bout was over."
"He was mocking me!"
"I heard no jape at your expense, he even offered you a hand. No more of this. Training is done for today. I will take you to the Queen."
As they walked through the palace, Aegon realized how foolish he had been. He was grateful that Elaena was not in the city today. She would be so disappointed in his actions. Aegon knew it was his own fault. His brother knew how he controlled his temper, and knew how to needle him. Had he not lost his cool he could have avoided shaming himself, and maybe even won the spar.
His mother was with sister Daenora. She looked exasperated when he and Cole were announced.
"What is it?"
"Look, look, I can draw too!" Daenora said as she scribbled with stencil.
Alicent ignored her and looked at Ser Criston.
"Your Grace, your son behaved in an uncouth manner. Aemond had beaten him in a spar and when Aemond sought to help Aegon rise, the prince pulled him down and struck him. Aemond is not seriously injured, but after explaining the lapse of honorable conduct I knew it would be proper to have you handle it."
Alicent gestured for the maidservant to take Daenora away.
"No, I don't want to go! Please I want to play with you momma!"
"Not now."
Daenora let out a wail, but was quickly taken out of the room.
"Your Grace," Cole intoned and then left the chambers as well.
"I have enough on my plate Aegon; I thought we were past your tantrum stage. You are the firstborn son of the King. Act like it."
Aegon nodded solemnly. "I know. I'm sorry, mother."
Alicent sighed. "What was your quarrel with your brother about?"
"I…" he wasn't sure how to put his feelings into words. "I just don't understand. I'm three years older than him. Why am I losing? I train and practice every day! It isn't fair."
"Seven have mercy, child, your brother cries about not having a dragon and you cry about losing a spar. Will none of you give me a moment's respite? Some men are good with swords, others are not. My own father was not for the lists, tourneys, or war, but he is the most brilliant man I know."
Alicent stood up. "You are too important to risk on a battlefield anyway. You will one day be King, be content with that and leave the fighting to your brother and your Kingsguard."
Aegon was confused. He was behind Rhaenyra, Jace, Luke, and Aenar in the succession. Probably Elaena as well, though it wasn't clear, nor did it matter that far down the line. What was his mother speaking of?
"I don't see how I will be King, mother. My sister is heir and has three children."
Alicent shook her head. "You have reached your tenth name-day, it is time that you learned the ways of the world. You are the rightful heir. Always, the oldest male child of the former King inherits. Your father does not wish to disappoint his daughter Rhaenyra, so does not act. It is a foolish gesture, if one made from love. But all the lords of the realm know – you are destined to rule. So, no more petty spats with your brother over swordsmanship."
Aegon slowly nodded. The weight of it suddenly struck him. He would be King? He would be responsible for all the lives of the Seven Kingdoms. It was at once both a frightening and heady thing. Aegon was not sure if this was a good or a bad thing.
Alicent hesitated and then pressed on. "Even though all know you are the rightful heir, it is not something you must say aloud. To anyone. Not your brothers or your sisters. It will only invite trouble and grief. Swear it by the Seven, my son."
Aegon obeyed, he could keep a secret. Alicent nodded after he had done so and embraced him and then continued to speak.
"You, my son, are destined for great things. Never forget that. And never go against your brother in public. We must be united against any enemy. They will seek to exploit any fissure within our family. Work out your differences and cease this infighting."
"Yes, mother. I will do my best. Can we say no more of it to each other and to others? There is no need to repeat it if I do what you intend."
Alicent looked puzzled, but nodded. "There will be no need to speak of it again, should you act as you should."
Aegon smiled at that. He didn't like disappointing others, but he detested disappointing Elaena.
***
Dark wings, dark words.
Viserys was sorrowed upon hearing of the death of his longtime friend, Lyonel Strong. Lyonel had served on the small council for many years, and most recently had served as his Hand. He had provided steady advice without bias, and had been a loyal shoulder to lean upon.
He knew he could not mourn for long, for the realm and all its difficulties would not wait. Viserys had to choose a new Hand, and the sooner the better. He considered his current council and dismissed each of them for one reason or another. Wylde was too inflexible, Lannister too self-serving, Beesbury too focused on fiscal matters, and Larys too new to his roles.
Viserys thought back to his earlier dismissal of Otto Hightower, another one of his long-time friends and precious advisors. He had pressed too hard on making Aegon heir, but save for that his advice had only been wise and forthcoming. His recent extended visit to King's Landing had also proven he remained a dear friend. He had not once mentioned the succession, a powerful mark in his favor indicating that he could let old arguments go.
The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. He didn't want a Velaryon as his Hand, they already had more than enough influence and power. Matches to his brother and daughter and full control over the Stepstones meant that their house was rising in ascendency. It was not a bad thing, given Laenor would be the consort to Rhaenyra when she took the throne, but it did cause grumbling among the other lords.
The grumbling of those lords was an irritant, but Viserys knew he had given them some cause. He had not fully agreed with Elaena's proposal, but he had gone through with allowing noble debtors and creditors to the Dragon Bank to have the right of appeal. In all honesty it seemed a rare enough occurrence not to warrant nearly so much back and forth argumentation as it had, but it had made many lords wroth.
Otto had always been able mend fences and ensure peace continued throughout the realm. He would be a fine choice as Hand. A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and the Kingsguard announced that his son Aemond wished to speak with him.
Viserys bade him come in and the boy greeted him.
"Your Grace, father, I would like your permission to attempt to bond a dragon."
"You are getting to be about that age, but it may be good to wait a little longer. Perhaps on your eighth name-day," Viserys replied.
Aemond shifted on his feet.
"Father, I don't see why I should wait," he spoke in flawless High Valyrian.
Viserys looked at him in surprise. Only Elaena had spoken it so smoothly at that age. He graced the boy with a smile.
"Very good, my son. I believe there is an unbound dragon still in the Dragonpit. Speak to your sister and she will take you to the Dragonkeepers and allow you to attempt it."
Aemond shook his head. "I don't want Tessarion. I want an older dragon. I want Vermithor, the Bronze Fury."
"I see you do not lack for courage! That would entail a trip to Dragonstone, so you would have to wait until one can be planned. With your sister, Rhaenyra, recently visiting I was not planning for a family visit so soon."
Aemond frowned, "Why can't I just go with Elaena? She can fly me there on Viktoriya. She's large enough now for the two of us to ride her together given our sizes."
Viserys thought about it for a few moments. There really wasn't a reason to deny him the opportunity, outside of his age and he had already given that a pass. This was something he should probably speak with his wife on. Alicent worried sometimes and she was with child again, anxiety could be unhealthy for her.
"I will discuss it with your mother."
Aemond bowed his head as well as any courtier, "Thank you, father. I await your decision."
Viserys dismissed him and watched him walk off. Viserys had not spent much time with Aemond, but he was turning into a fine Targaryen. He dimly remembered Alicent saying that he was impressing his tutors. None of the problems that had once plagued Aegon seemed to have manifested in Aemond, which he was thankful for. The tantrums had been grating.
Later that day he dined with Alicent.
"I've decided to make your father my Hand once more."
Alicent smiled at that, "It is for the best, he already knows how you like to manage the Seven Kingdoms."
"Ah and Daeron was travelling with him to Oldtown. Otto discussed the importance of the fostering; we should probably keep the arrangements. Your family will take good care of our son, even without Otto being there."
Alicent was agreeable to that and then Viserys shared Aemond's request.
"He spoke nothing of this to me! Isn't Vermithor dangerous? I know little of dragonlore, but isn't he known for his fury?"
Viserys chuckled. "Yes, but he is accustomed to people and tolerates their presence. The lad will be fine, and he seems ready."
Alicent was nervous, but relented. Viserys hoped his son was successful, for more dragonriders was always a good thing for House Targaryen.
***
When Rhaenyra heard the news, she was shocked. An accursed fire nearly cost her the father of her children? Ser Harwin's close brush with death chilled her. She also felt great sadness over the death of his father. Lyonel Strong had been a better Hand than Otto Hightower by her estimation. Thoughts of who would replace him were not ones she focused on, instead she told Laenor she needed to see how Harwin was doing personally.
Laenor mounted Seasmoke and Rhaenyra took Syrax. They raced the wind and when they arrived at Harrenhal they could clearly see the damage done to the place from above. The stone did not melt further, but the stables were destroyed, and there were tents arrayed outside of the walls for people to sleep in. As they swooped down the people gawked and pointed, but Rhaenyra only had eyes for one person. Ser Harwin.
She spotted him as she dismounted her dragon. Laenor called out to her.
"Remember where we are, Rhaenyra."
Rhaenyra was thankful for the warning; she had been about to leap into Harwin's arms and comfort him. Instead they were mindful and exchanged a more formal greeting and then took the privacy of a tent. Harwin looked more worn than she had ever seen him. His face was haggard and his eyes were red-rimmed with grief.
"Gods, I'm so sorry Harwin. Your father's loss is a horrid blow. Are you all right? Were you injured?"
"A bruised shoulder is the worst of it. It hurts a bit to exert myself because of the smoke, but the Maester said that should pass."
Laenor expressed his sympathies as well, "Lord Lyonel was all that a noble of Westeros should be. A knight, an educated man, a leal servant to the crown, and his powerful voice will be missed. I will leave you two and check in on Lady Strong."
"Thank you, Ser Laenor." Harwin spoke, a slight tremor in his voice.
When Laenor left they embraced with a relatively chaste kiss on the lips.
"I'm so sorry," Rhaenyra said in a low grief filled voice. "What can I do?"
"I do not think there is anything you can do. My heart aches. I regret deeply that we were at odds when he died."
Rhaenyra could guess, so she did not ask, instead she held him.
"He was proud of you. The strongest knight in the realm was a boast he would often make of you. If he could speak now, he would tell you that he was delighted to have sired you."
They stayed attached to each other for several long minutes. Rhaenyra came to a decision in those moments, holding him there as he grieved.
"Harwin, your place isn't here. Come to Dragonstone. Bring your wife and child. We can tell my father that after the fire, she didn't wish to be in this accursed place."
"Bring Lyra? But what if she…"
"We can be careful; you will be my Sworn Shield. That gives us ample time to be with one another. And if the worst comes to worst, what can she do? Why would she risk your downfall speaking of it? It would also endanger her. No, I have no reason to fear that unlikely possibility."
"What of Harrenhal and the lands here?"
"Appoint a castellan, your father did the same when he came to court. There is no need for your personal presence here. Come with me."
Harwin looked conflicted.
"Are you sure you can tolerate her? I would not see her unhappy or shunned."
Rhaenyra shrugged. "Harwin, I laid with Laena and Daemon, and plan to continue. You bear them no ill will, just as Laenor bears you no malice. We are a match you and me, and I will not resent the nights you spend with your wedded wife."
Harwin kissed her. "Yes, Rhaenyra, yes. I never want to look at this ill-fated place again."
Rhaenyra had not desired any harm to be done to Lyonel, but she admitted to herself that his death had allowed this possibility. She could be with Harwin as often she wished. She could also fly to Driftmark at anytime and be with other lovers. It would be perfect.
***
Laenor and Rhaenyra had both been surprised when Otto Hightower resumed his duties as Hand. Rhaenyra had been enraged, but what had she expected? They were on Dragonstone and did not visit King's Landing often. Of course Alicent would be whispering in his ear and guiding him to make the choice she desired. Laenor had no wish to return to King's Landing – the place where Joffrey was maimed. The simple reality was they had few friends at court to help sway the King's decisions.
With the decision already made, there was naught to do now. With Harwin and his family joining them at Dragonstone there was even more reason not to return to King's Landing. Laenor was not sure if the decision to bring Harwin here was a good one, but Rhaenyra had desired it greatly. Given his relationship with Joffrey, he fully understood.
Another surprise was the missive from Elaena regarding young Aemond. He wished to try to bond with a dragon and it would just be him and Elaena and not the King's entire family.
Rhaenyra had simply stated, "Better to have only one of her spawn here than to have everyone arrive; refusing would just make us look boorish and delay the inevitable."
Elaena brought Aemond by dragonback and a small family dinner was prepared for the two arrivals. Laenor, Joffrey, Rhaenyra and Jace were present. The primary course was ribs roasted in a crust of garlic and herbs. The cooks of Dragonstone were only a shade less skilled than those in King's Landing and Laenor knew the food would always be excellent.
"Thank you for allowing Aemond to visit, Rhaenyra." Elaena smiled as she began helping herself to sides of mashed yellow turnips in butter and fish tarts.
Laenor's wife nodded in with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "My half-brother is a Targaryen, 'tis only natural he would want a dragon."
He saw that Aemond shifted slightly at hearing the term 'half-brother' from Rhaenyra. Laenor wished there was less acrimony between Alicent and Rhaenyra. That his wife's hatred for Alicent had soured her feelings towards Alicent's children was a pity, despite knowing the politics of it all.
"Do you have a dragon in mind, Prince Aemond?" Laenor asked.
"I want the largest, so I will be claiming Vermithor."
"A dragon chooses its rider, the Bronze Fury may not want you," Rhaenyra reminded.
"He will choose me."
Laenor thought it smacked of a child's arrogance, but dragons were by their nature drawn to fiery personalities. If he were to make a wager, he would put it on the boy getting his dragon.
"Just remember not all battles are won in a single day. Some dragons take time to form a bond, and Vermithor is an older dragon," Elaena advised.
"My dragon is going to be as big as Vermithor when he's older!" Jace joined into the conversation for the first time.
Aemond snickered, "Vermithor is almost 100 years old, your little baby dragon won't get big enough in your lifetime."
Jace didn't like that. "I want a big dragon!"
Rhaenyra rubbed his back. "Vermax is your dragon since you were a babe. He has journeyed through life with you. No one else will be able to ride your dragon, but others have already ridden Vermithor."
Laenor watched as Rhaenyra calmed down her son. Jace was typically a good child, but was never really challenged by children his age. Luke was younger and smaller and looked up to his older brother. Aemond being here was a new experience.
Conversation moved and turned to other topics. Less benign topics, since Aemond wanted to hear stories about Leanor's second time going to the Stepstones.
"Did you really chop off the enemy leader's head? Or did Seasmoke rip it off?"
Laenor took a bit of food as he considered how to answer. Why did he have to ask that? He supposed it made sense given his recent fame as an unstoppable dragonrider.
"After killing him and his men his head was not that charred. I thought it would be a good time to send a message to the Triarchy that their leader was dead."
Aemond liked the answer, but wanted more. How many men did he think he killed? Would the Triarchy be back? Had he or Seasmoke ever been injured? Why was his second time fighting in the Stepstones so much more effective than the first time? Did he prefer to fight on the sea in ship battles or on land?
Rhaenyra and Joffrey looked amused, Jace looked awed, and it was impossible to tell what Elaena was thinking as Laenor did his best to answer those questions. He put on mien of general discomfort and finally said, "Given your age and my son's age, as well as ladies present, this is not the time to go into those sorts of details."
Aemond let the matter drop. The next day the lad went out with Elaena and secured the loyalty of Vermithor. Laenor knew Rhaenyra was disappointed at the easy success. He didn't think she truly wished the child ill, but the Hightower faction gaining control of Dreamfyre and Vermithor was a concern. Both of those dragons were larger than Syrax, Seasmoke, Caraxes, Meleys, and of course all the children's dragons. Only Vhagar, of the claimed dragons, was larger than Dreamfyre and Vermithor.
Laenor wondered if perhaps the next child Rhaenyra bore should wait and claim a dragon like Alicent's children had done. Silverwing had a previous rider and nested on Dragonstone. There were also two rather large wild dragons, one known as the Cannibal and the other as Sheepstealer. The final one was around the size of Sunfyre and was named Grey Ghost. On the other face of the argument, dragon eggs hatched more frequently when they were in a cradle with a newborn that had Targaryen blood. The link was a puzzle that the Maesters had no firm understanding of.
They saw the two royal children off and Elaena paused to share a few words.
"The rumors of my despoiling have all but disappeared, our new Lord Confessor is quite adept at instilling fear in would-be-gossips."
"That's Ser Harwin's brother, the one with the club foot?" Laenor asked.
"Indeed, sadly the true party responsible for forming those rumors was never uncovered. My guess is that most lords will put little stock in those rumors or perhaps not even recall they occurred three years from now when I begin looking for a match."
Rhaenyra grinned, "It should be a fun tour, but be warned, many of the lords will try to win your hand will be ridiculously unsuited."
"It is to be expected, when the cost of something is low and the reward is high, many will try even if their chances are dim. I will seek to rebuff advances politely and pick the match that most suits me."
"And what suits you? Have your tastes emerged? Do you wish for a tall man? Do you prefer slight or muscular? Wild or courtly?"
Laenor almost laughed as Elaena raised one eyebrow.
"I was pondering more along the lines of an open mind to my hobbies and interests. I also have no wish for a large brood as that would interfere with my travel, research, and other economic innovations I wish to pursue. Wealth is also a factor as I do desire comfort and an eventual easy and luxurious senescence. Geographical concerns also exist as I would like a climate that Viktoriya will appreciate and be able to hunt well without causing too much disruption."
Rhaenyra gave an exaggerated sigh. "Please grow into womanhood faster my sweet innocent sister. There is so much I wish to talk with you on, but it can wait. Be safe and do well to paid heed of court intrigues, for someone mislikes you and they may not stop after the first attempt."
Laenor could only shake his head. He had no doubt that whoever the culprit was had no idea what acts of wanton violence the young princess was capable of. It felt rather isolating to be the only other person in all of Westeros that understood how acutely dangerous Elaena of the House Targaryen truly was.