The Princess and the Queen 11: The Curse of Harrenhal

Harwin could see Harrenhal.

Home.

The afternoon sun was shining ahead of Harwin and the party. They had taken a left away from the Kingsroad earlier and were now at the shore of the great God's Eye. The lake seemed to stretch on forever, its blue and black and green waters shimmering and reflecting the clear skies above. In the distance, the Isle of Faces was visible, but it was still so far away that Harwin could not see the white and red weirwoods on the island.

Harrenhal's five towers thrust out of the ground like five fingers sticking out, each one larger than the other. Around the five towers was a large curtain wall. It was even more massive than the Red Keep, and seeing it again took Harwin's breath away. Harwin looked over to his father, whose brown eyes looked up in amazement as if it was his first time seeing it too.

For most of the ride, they had been in uncomfortable silence. Harwin's father had barely spoken and had a sullen look on his face. Only until the last leg of the journey had he mellowed down, and upon seeing Harrenhal, he finally smiled somewhat. Harwin understood why his father was so displeased, but Harwin was just as displeased at his father too.

Back at the Red Keep, they exchanged words so harsh and loud he felt as though everyone in the capital could hear them. Harwin was enraged that Cole indirectly assaulted Prince Baelon, an heir to the Iron Throne, whilst his father was enraged about everything.

"You've shamed all of us! Not just you, but me, and Larys, and the entire House Strong!" his father roared, his voice finally doing justice to his burly appearance.

"Because I laid my hands on that cunt Cole?" Harwin replied, equally as loud. "We just duelled not long ago!"

"Did I raise such a fool? You know the bloody difference!" he scoffed.

"He's insufferable, and a son of a steward... a lowborn..."

"A knight of the fucking Kingsguard-"

"Who humiliated Prince Baelon-"

"That does not give you leave to climb atop him and assault him!" his father replied, slapping Harwin on his bruised cheek.

"Baelon was in tears!" countered Harwin, flinging a wine glass at the wall, shattering it.

Harwin then took a breath and walked across the room, his back turned away from his father.

"You have essentially confirmed those allegations," his father said.

"What allegations are those?" Harwin asked defiantly.

"Are you stupid, boy?" he laughed. "Your... intimacies... with the Princess can mean exile and death. Do you not remember Ser Lucamore Strong, or Lucamore the Lusty... there were whispers of that tale ever since Joffrey was born. Those in the Red Keep already look down on us for being such a young house, and now this..."

His father was right in that, at least. House Strong were already somewhat of an outcast in King's Landing, and even in the Riverlands, not just for the youth of their house, but also for their worship of the Old Gods. That is why Harwin's father had elected to convert to the Faith of the Seven. Harwin did so too, but his younger brother, Larys, secretly preferred the Old Gods and the weirwoods, along with their half-sister, Alys.

"They are just rumours, father... spun up by Queen Laena and Lord Corlys and all their allies to discredit the Princess..." Harwin protested.

"I have eyes, as does everyone else," sighed his father. "We are in private; speak the truth plainly to me, boy."

Harwin then nodded meekly at his father.

"Thank you... and when did this... affair... start?" he asked.

"Before the Princess even married," Harwin replied bluntly.

"And yet you continued it, even following the birth of Baelon," he said, his voice lower. "You are lucky that His Grace refuses to see, or admit it... and that is what stands between you and a chopping block or dying in a fire. King Aegon would have made you Balerion's supper, and King Maegor would have made me the dessert for the crime of being your father. Go the sept or the godswood when we return home to thank the Gods for His Grace showing a blindness to the actions of his child."

"I wish you showed the same blindness to me," Harwin scoffed.

"Did I not, fucking fool? Since Joffrey was born... I protected the Princess' claim against the accusations of the Queen and the Sea Snake for months... and today you ruin all of it by assaulting the Lord Commander of the Kingsgaurd for insulting your whore!" he spat, his eyes full of fury, and a vein popping out of his red face. "You are a knight... did they not teach you honour?"

"You have your honour, and I have mine," Harwin coldly replied. "I do not like to see children getting hurt."

"Then you should have thought before entering the Princess' bedchambers. Now, you have endangered both of her children," his father whispered before leaving the room.

Harwin kicked his horse forwards and rode up alongside his father. They both looked up at the monstrous castle as they edged closer and closer to it. It was less than a league away now, its looming shadow getting nearer and nearer.

"It's bigger than I remembered," smiled Harwin, looking at his father. "Sometimes, I miss this place."

"And you shall become the lord of it all someday," his father replied. "And you shall have a lot to learn if you wish to rule successfully."

Seven hells... he still has not forgiven me.

"What more can I do now, father?" Harwin angrily asked. "What's happened has happened, and I cannot change it."

"First, at least admit wrongdoing," he said before kicking his horse and riding ahead.

Harwin shook his head and rode ahead to catch up to his father again. The horse's brief gallop brought a shot of pain to his legs and back, which were still hurting since the duel with Cole back at King's Landing.

"Very well... I should not have reacted in the way I did... Cole baited me into it, and I was a fool for taking it."

"And..." his father continued.

"The affair with the Princess was foolish of me... I should have stopped it earlier... before I had the chance to sire Joff..." he admitted, too tired to argue anymore.

Harwin and Rhaenyra had, in fact, stopped their affair, but only after she returned from Casterly Rock.

It was much too late by then.

"Thank you, son," his father sighed. "You still have the rest of your life to make good on your errors, and redeem yourself. In time, you shall marry and sire more children. It is long due for you too, in fact."

"It could've been Rhaenyra that I married..." Harwin mused. "All those years ago, if only I had been on the first leg of the marriage tour... it may have spared us all of this..."

It may have spared us all of this if I hadn't fucked her, too.

"Or it would have brought us another selection of problems," he laughed.

They rode on some more, with less tension between them, but still in silence, as they entered the shadow of Harrenhal. At least now, the sun was not in their eyes. Now, it was just five massive towers and outer walls that were tall enough to pass as a castle itself, all in greys and blacks, but with a blood-soaked history. When the gates were just some few hundred yards away, Harwin finally spoke.

"I do not understand how you do it all," he said, looking at his father wearily.

"Do what?"

"All of the fucking politicking, father..."

"It's not easy, boy... but I do it to serve the realm, unlike most others."

"I would not be able to sit around in councils all day and suffer through veiled insults and administration..."

"That is why the gods gave me two sons... one that can fight... and another that can think," his father laughed.

"In truth, I dread thinking of the day I must rule Harrenhal, father..."

"It is unlike King's Landing... the people are honest, and you shall have the maester and the castellan to aid you... but that does not mean it's easy. You shall learn, I am sure of it, and that is why I have come with you to stay a while. I shall also visit when I can, to see how you are faring."

"Thank you, father," Harwin replied.

Harwin also promised to try and visit King's Landing as often as possible, mainly so he could see Baelon and Joffrey again. And Rhaenyra. Of course, his father told him it would be foolish to return too soon, especially after the recent events that transpired. Harwin begrudgingly accepted, but only after an exchange of harsh words.

I just hope that Baelon shall receive the training he deserves.

"I don't want you to go!" cried Baelon as he hugged tightly onto Harwin's leg. "I don't want to train with Ser Criston!"

"I have arranged for Ser Lorent Marbrand to train you," Rhaenyra calmly explained to Baelon, putting a hand on his shoulders.

"But it's not Ser Harwin..." he sobbed. "I only want to train with Ser Harwin..."

"He is a good man," Harwin said, looking the boy in his teary green eyes. "He is not Cole and shall treat you well."

"I don't want that! I never liked training... only with you training me-"

"Yes, lad..." hushed Harwin, stroking his shoulders. "I would if I could, but I must return home now. I shall visit when I can, to make sure you are doing well."

"Visit often..." he blubbered.

"I promise," Harwin smiled. "Only you promise that you take of your mother whilst I'm away."

Baelon nodded his head slowly, and Harwin gave him another embrace.

"Good lad," Harwin said before turning to Rhaenyra. She was cradling Joffrey in her arms, and her eyes were cold and distant.

She slowly turned the babe, so he would be facing Harwin. Joffrey was awake, his small brown eyes staring curiously at Harwin. Harwin bowed his head and gave his son a small kiss on the forehead and stroked his head for a moment, whilst Rhaenyra sullenly stared at him.

"The next time we meet, lad," Harwin softly whispered. "I shall be a stranger."

Harwin looked back up at Rhaenyra. She remained silent, her body shaking slightly, and tears forming in her eyes. It almost looked as if she was shaking her head, desperately but silently begging Harwin not to leave.

I do not want to either.

They stared at each other for a long time, his brown eyes looking deep into her purple. It felt like an eternity, and Harwin wished that he was. He savoured the moment for as long as he could, for he did not know when it would next come.

"Princess," he finally said, giving her a small kiss on the cheek whilst holding her head gently.

Then, he turned and took his belongings, a small satchel and his sheathed sword. Everything else would have been already prepared by the servants and maids. He took one more short glance at her, and left the room, and left King's Landing, and left her.

For now, at least.

The gates of Harrenhal were massive. The archway where the portcullis came from was around forty feet high, and the gatehouse around it even higher than that. Further up, the guards looked like ants as they watched the part arrive below them. On either side of the gate, the banner of House Strong was hung, falling down from the top of the gatehouse to around halfway to the ground, covering the discoloured and melted stone. Both were giant white cloths that had three lines of blue, green, and red running down the middle.

Harwin and his father and all the rest rode through the gatehouse. It felt like a tunnel with how long it was, and Harwin could spot dozens of tiny holes in there, where defenders would pour boiling oil down at the attackers. Eventually, they saw the light and passed through into the outer yard. There, a host of Strongs stood waiting for them. They were dwarfed by the five towers behind them, even though a whole stretch of grey and brown mud lay between them.

At the forefront of the welcoming party was Simon Strong, Harwin's great uncle and the castellan. He was an older man by now, his brown hair mostly white and balding. Harwin's cousins also stood there waiting, with a score of men-at-arms, servants, and pages behind them.

"My Lord," Simon said, walking up to Harwin's father. "The castle is yours."

"Thank you, Simon," he replied. "For now, at least. Harwin shall rule in time, and will remain here after I depart again for King's Landing."

Simon sternly nodded and turned to Harwin.

"Ser Harwin," he gruffly said. "Expelled from the City Watch for attacking a member of the Kingsguard, then?"

"It was not my son's proudest moment," interrupted Harwin's father quickly.

"The blood of the First Men does run thick in you, it seems," he chuckled. "Do not fret, lad... I shall mentor you as best as I can."

"My thanks, uncle," Harwin solemnly replied.

"Is my daughter not here?" Harwin's father asked, looking around the yard.

"If I knew, I could tell you, the castle is too damned big at times," Simon laughed.

"She usually spends her time in the godswood," one of Simon's sons nervously said.

"You both must be tired after the journey... come... I have already prepared your sleeping quarters. And a feast has been scheduled for the morrow," said Simon.

Harwin and his father nodded and made their way to their quarters. Walking through the outer yard and towards the Tower of Dread. It was the largest of the three towers that were in use. The Kingspyre Tower was much too large to maintain, whilst the Tower of Ghosts was also not used, despite being the smallest tower, second to only the Widow's Tower. Despite being considered the "smallest tower", even the Widow's Tower was supposed to be taller than the largest tower in Winterfell and taller than most castles in Westeros.

Walking across the desolate yard reminded Harwin of why he had not visited in time, and why he never usually felt homesick. Everything was much too large for Harwin's liking, and everything just felt wrong. The fissured stone looked like it was dripping at times, and large cracks were running through everything. And when the wind passed in between the five towers, it sounded eerily like a child screaming.

He also felt uncomfortable due to the supposed Curse of Harrenhal. Since its completion, House Strong was the sixth different party to hold the castle in a little over a hundred years. The Houses Hoare, Qoherys, Harroway, and Towers had all gone extinct, and Queen Rhaena Targaryen had died in the Widow Tower after a life of misery and ill fortune. It was now the fiftieth year of House Strong's rule over the castle, and luckily they had not encountered any ill fortune yet.

Just as Harwin was about to enter the looming Tower of Dread, a flock of crows flew over his head, startling him. He almost drew his sword but quickly put it away upon realising what had occurred. He took a deep breath and entered the tower.

You are a man grown... you should not believe children's tales about ghosts and curses...

He didn't, truly, but that did not change the fact of how uneasy the whole place made him feel. Eventually, he made it to his chambers. It was on the tower's fifth floor, five below the top floor and adjacent to his father's. It was simply too much effort to maintain the top floors, even though they still only used three of the five towers in the castle. On the way to his chambers, he passed by a man who warily stared at him. Harwin nodded at the man, who did not reply and instead scurried ahead. Harwin didn't think much of it and carried on towards his rooms. The hallway leading there was dark, only lit by candles in the early evening. A chill came through cracks in the wall, and the black stone ceiling looked like it was dripping. There were no tapestries or ornaments, unlike the Red Keep. The only decoration there was a chain in the shape of a cross etched into the wall, likely to represent the sigil of House Hoare but blackened and disfigured by the burning.

In his room, all of his belongings were there, and his bed was neatly covered in white quilts. The bedchamber was spacious, with a large bed in the centre and a supper table on the side. It connected to an office, where a door led to the chamber where his father was. In the office, there was a warm supper placed on the table. That was what Harwin decided to do first, before even changing his riding cloths and taking a bath. He was hungry and he was tired, mainly due to the arguments with his father and the beating he had recently suffered at the hand of the steward's son. The supper was still hot, a soup of carrots, onions, barely, and neeps, and a plate of cheese and grapes served with hot bread that tasted slightly burned.

Harwin wolfed it down in minutes, finishing every drop of the soup and wiping the bowl with the bread. He let out a loud belch and finished his wine before leaning back on the chair. His legs and arms and back hurt, and the ache of the travel and the beating had started to make itself present. Following his supper, he staggered his way down to the sept, all the way in the out of the yard, to pray before he slept.

The sky was almost pitch black now, save for a few clouds and a full moon. Somehow, the blackness of the melted walls was even darker than the night sky. A murder of crows passed overhead, and a gust of wind howled through the air. Its screams reminded Harwin of Baelon's cries in the training yard.

Only a few people were in the yard, some servants walking with torches and maids rushing around, finishing their final tasks of the day. Posted on the walls so far away, Harwin could spot the outline of a soldier every couple of yards. Torches and moonlight faintly lit the yard, but visibility was still poor. Nonetheless, he still found his way to the new sept, which was near the main gate and the stables. It was larger than the sept in the Red Keep but smaller than Maegelle's Sept in King's Landing. Unlike everything else in Harrenhal, the sept had greyish-white walls and rainbow-painted windows on each of its seven sides.

He spent half an hour in the sept, praying to the gods to guide him, although he was not much of a religious man, be it the Seven or the Old Gods. But since being dismissed as well as his concern for Rhaenyra's children, he felt he needed to become closer to the gods. He prayed to the Father to protect Baelon and Joffrey, and to the Warrior to grant both of them strength in the training yard. He then turned to the Mother for mercy, to forgive him for his affair with the Princess, and for the Crone to guide him to be a good ruler of Harrenhal. After he was done, he exited the sept to return to his quarters to finally sleep.

As he was making his way back to the Tower of Dread, a familiar voice called out to him.

"The night is dark as full of terrors," the voice called. It was soft and sweet, like that of a young woman.

Harwin turned, and out of the shadows, coming from the godswood was his half-sister, Alys Rivers. She was born some years before Harwin, when their father was just a young lad. It had been years since Harwin had seen her, but she seemed to look even younger than before. She was nine-and-thirty, but she looked like a girl of ten-and-eight. Alys was of average height, but slender. On her was a thin black robe, and she didn't seem to chill in the night breeze. As she approached, the torchlight illuminated her face. Her eyes were a piercing grey-green and seemed to have a black shadow around them. Her long black hair fell all the way down her back, and a silver necklace hung at her bare neck.

"What are you doing at this hour?" she whispered, coming up to Harwin.

"Praying," Harwin curtly replied. Although he didn't mind his sister, he did feel slightly uneasy in her presence.

"I never thought you to be a godly man," she laughed.

"I'm not."

"It is good to see you again, Harwin."

"Likewise."

"How is Larys? It has been just as long since I saw my baby brother."

Larys and Alys had always been close as children. When Larys was born, not only did he have a clubfoot, but he was also afflicted with horrible illness and night terrors where he claimed that he was in the body of animals. Harwin's father had brought in maesters and septons from all across the kingdoms, but none helped. Only when Larys was a boy of eight, a girl of ten-and-eight arrived at Harrenhal. She claimed to be the natural daughter of the Lord, and quickly befriended Larys. Eventually, the illnesses stopped, and the night terrors came to an end. They grew close as siblings, and once Larys mentioned that he still had the same dreams, but they weren't terrors anymore. Nor Harwin nor his father truly knew what happened.

"He is well," Harwin responded.

"That is good to know," she smiled. "It was unfortunate what happened in King's Landing... you should have conducted yourself better."

Harwin gave a strained smile, and tried to hold back his temper.

"How did you hear of this?" he asked. "Did your fires tell you this?"

Servants around Harrenhal claimed that Alys dappled with poisons and spells, and could see the future by looking into a fire. Harwin doubted the veracity of any of the claims, in truth.

"No. I spoke with Father earlier," she laughed, her black lips pursed into a smirk as Harwin rolled his eyes. "Do you wish to know what the fires told me today, however?"

"If you so insist," he replied, wishing to just return to his bed.

"A fire..." she whispered.

"A fire?" he laughed. "You saw fire in the fires?"

"A fire here, at Harrenhal."

"I do not believe your fables," scoffed Harwin, turning to leave.

"But it has already happened, an accident in the kitchens," she frowned. "And I also saw lions..."

There were no lions in the kitchens, so why did your fires show you that?

He didn't care enough to ask, nor did he believe her, so he headed back to his bedchambers.

When he returned, he heard snoring coming from his father's adjacent chamber. It didn't take Harwin long to strip into his smallclothes and collapse into the bed. Everything was aching now, and he just wanted to rest. He didn't even bathe and was stinking of sweat. Harwin turned to his other side and closed his eyes. Within minutes, he had drifted off to sleep.

Finally...

He woke again to the smell of smoke and the sound of banging on his door. Harwin was too tired to get up, so he closed his eyes again to try and sleep some more.

When he opened his eyes again, everything was on fire.