Harwin POV

Three Days Later

Harwin came from a line of intelligent men. His father had studied at the Citadel, forging six chains before taking his place as Lord of Harrenhal. His brother, Larys, devoted himself to pursuits of the mind, honing his cunning the way knights honed their swords. Harwin could admit his father and brother were far wiser than he, but he liked to think he was clever. (One did not grow up under the eye of Alys Rivers and turn out entirely stupid.) True, he cared more for the training yard or hunting than for books or sums, but there was a thrill to be found in the simple act ofknowing.

As a child, he'd crept through the corridors of Harrenhal, gleefully collecting stories and secrets. As a man, he'd found that giving servants kind words and good coins kept him more informed of the Red Keep's affairs than even the Master of Whisperers. Harwin knew that Lord Merryweather despaired of his loutish son, and that Jasper Wylde was angling for a permanent place in court. He knew Lady Rowan was carrying on with a herald, and that Lord Beesbury's page was a drunkard. He knew that the Swanns had left King's Landing not out of a sudden desire to go home, but out of disgust of the King's lackluster response to the abduction of Lady Joanna. And of course, he knew about Princess Rhaenyra.

There was no official announcement, but Harwin heard whispers that the Princess was preparing to leave for Dragonstone. Rumors said that she'd quarreled with the king over her marriage, but nobody could agree if her departure was voluntary exile or banishment. Harwin wouldn't know—he'd only spoken to the Princess once, when he escorted her back to the Red Keep, and he hadn't seen her since.

He saw her uncle often, much to his annoyance.

Now, Harwin respected Prince Daemon as his commander and a prince of the blood, but the man could be difficult to deal with on the best of days. These were not the best of days—Prince Daemon had worked himself into a fury, shouting and snarling at his men as if he were turning into his family's sigil. Harwin suspected he knew the reason behind the prince's foul temper, and her name was Rhaenyra.

"Strong, with me," the prince ordered, and Harwin obeyed.

"Are you well, my prince?" Harwin asked delicately as they strode down River Row. Daemon had been silent throughout their patrol, and Harwin was getting anxious. He'd known the prince for five years, ever since he joined the City Watch as a lad of seven-and-ten. Five years was long enough to know the man—Harwin had seen the prince laughing in triumph and roaring in rage, impatient with want and flushed with pleasure. He knew that a quiet Daemon was a dangerous Daemon, and anyone with any wits would tread carefully when the prince fell into one of his dark moods.

"Why wouldn't I be well?" Daemon snapped.

"You were so quiet, my prince, and it made me wonder…"

"Wonderwhat?"

"If you were well."

The prince stopped and stared at the tavern across the way, a place called the Drunken Dragon. "Have you any nieces, Strong?" He asked suddenly.

"No. But I have sisters."

"Troublesome thing, nieces," Daemon mused, folding his arms. "They're so easy to please when they're young, but then they have to grow up and make everything complicated."

Harwin hummed noncommittally, a streak of silver flashing in the corner of his eye.

"And—" Daemon tensed, arms falling at his side. "What the fuck."

Harwin turned.

It was the princess. She was dressed as a page again, but unlike the night he'd found her wandering the city, she made no effort to hide her silver-white hair, neatly braided with red ribbons. She carried a parchment in one hand, and a cheesecloth in the other as she leaned against the wall of the Drunken Dragon, chatting with a blushing barmaid.

"Rhaenyra!" Daemon called as he strode over to the wayward princess, Harwin on his heels.

"Oh. It's you," Princess Rhaenyra said coldly, and turned her attention back to the barmaid.

"What in the Seven Hells do you think you're doing?" Daemon demanded, and the princess sighed impatiently. "Think about my offer," she said before sending the girl away.

"I," the princess said, glancing at her uncle, "was trying to poach a cook."

"Where is your guard?"

"Don't know."

"You—" Daemon looked ready to strangle her. "How could you be so stupid, coming into the city without a guard?"

"You come without a guard all the time." She argued.

"I am a knight!" Daemon said harshly. "You are an untrained girl with—"

He cut himself off, and the princess she were a bird, her feathers would be all puffed up,Harwin thought. She would make a beautiful falcon, small and sleek and deadly.

"I don't have a guard," Princess Rhaenyra said slowly, "because Criston decided I wasn't worth it anymore, and ran off to Alicent."

"Criston Cole is a cunt," Daemon said reflexively.

"I didn't ask your opinion," she said shortly. "Don't you have peasants to mutilate? Leave me be."

"You insolent chit—"

"God, it's a wonder you don't get along better with the king," Princess Rhaenyra said. "Insolent chit. Tavern wench. Political headache. What will you come up with next?"

"I am trying tohelpyou, Rhaenyra!"

"No, you're not!" The princess snapped. "You just don't want to see Otto's grandson on the throne. It's got nothing to do with me." And with that, she marched away, braids bouncing. Daemon groaned, running a hand through his hair. "After her, Strong. She'll have nothing to do with me."

"Commander," Harwin acknowledged and set off for the princess.

He found her at the city wall, eating buttered shrimp from her cheesecloth and staring at the harbor before them. "Do you want any?" She asked as Harwin approached, holding out the bundle. "They're delicious."

He shook his head, leaning against the stone. Harwin had plenty of experience with sullen and rebellious maidens—his sister Darina had been a holy terror when Father remarried, and though the princess was a woman grown, he had no doubt she wished for a good listener as much as his sister did. "What's wrong?" He asked gently.

"Did you know that cunts can turn blue and purple when a woman's with child?" She asked suddenly, and. Well.

"I did not, your grace," Harwin said evenly.

"I didn't either until Alicent had the Grand Maester stick his head up my skirt," Rhaenyra said bitterly. "I hate them so much. Can't wait to get out of this hellhole."

"I take it you're going to Dragonstone for the birth?" Harwin asked, and Rhaenyra glanced at him. "How do you know I'm going to Dragonstone? I could be getting shipped off to Oldtown."

"I'm friendly with the maids," Harwin admitted. "It's truly amazing how much they'll tell you if you treat them decently. There have been rumors you were going to Dragonstone because you quarreled with the king, but I had no idea you were…" he trailed off.

"That's clever of you," Rhaenyra said approvingly.

"Most people would say it's beneath me."

"Most people are idiots. You know Otto hired spies that speak Valyrian so he could listen in on my conversations? That had to be so goddamn expensive."

"Not very efficient of him," Harwin agreed.

"It's infuriating that he's getting everything he wants," Rhaenyra said, popping a shrimp in her mouth. "But I've decided not to care anymore. Otto can go fuck himself with that pile of rusty swords while I live happily ever after away from all these pricks."

Harwin burst out laughing, and Rhaenyra grinned in delight. "Hear that, spies?" She called, her voice bouncing off the empty walls. "Otto Hightower can go fuck himself on the Iron Throne!"

"Enough of that," Harwin said, grabbing a piece of shrimp. "No need to antagonize your father any further by insulting his Hand." He took a bite, and his eyes widened in surprise. It reallywasthat delicious.

"I know, right?" Rhaenyra said. "I've been having so much trouble eating, but the babe loves this shrimp. It's so good, I bribed one of the kitchen maids to come to Dragonstone with me so she can make it whenever I want!"

"Have you been seen to by a maester or midwife?" Harwin asked, his mirth vanishing at the mention of a babe.

Rhaenyra paused. "No," she said, a queer look sweeping over her face. "You're the first person to ask. Isn't that strange?"

"There are many midwives in the city," Harwin said, "I can arrange for any one of them to see you. When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"The king wants me gone before I start to show," she said with an air of affected carelessness. "He has some dimwitted plan that I'll give birth on Dragonstone and hand off the babe to somebody else with nobody the wiser."

"I take it you have plans of your own?"

"Calling them 'plans' makes it sound like I've got them all thought out. They're really more ideas at his point. But yes. Viserys already took my mother, and I'm not letting him take my child too." She took his hand, and he tried not to startle. Her skin was warm, callused but soft like well-worn leather. "Part of me has always wanted to have children. But the other part of me fears it. My mother—" Rhaenyra cut herself off, voice thickening with grief.

"It is a terrible thing, losing your mother to the birthing bed," Harwin said softly.

"I didn't realize what was happening at first," Rhaenyra continued, rocking slightly. "I was watching the tourney, and when I happened to look behind me, the king was gone. I thought, 'Oh, the baby must be born. They don't want to disappoint me in case something goes wrong again, but I should see to my mother. She'll need me either way.'"

No,Harwin thought, his stomach not.

"Her body was still on the bed," Rhaenyra said, eyes welling with tears. "They cut her open—the maester's assistant was still holding the fucking knife. I have never seen so much blood in my life, and—and the king was crying. As if he hadn't given the orders. And then he wonders why I'm so terrified about marriage!" She said, squeezing his hand. "He wants me to marry Laenor Velaryon."

Harwin stifled a snort. "That is certainly an advantageous match," he said diplomatically, and it was. It simply wouldn't be a fruitful one.

"I don'tknowhim! I haven't seen him since I was twelve. God only knows what kind of man he's grown into. And Criston left me!" She said despairingly. "He was sworn tome,he would protect me from anyone who tries to hurt me, and now he's gone!"

At that moment, Harwin did not see a princess, heir to the Iron Throne and the Realm's Delight. He saw a young woman, frightened and alone. And was he not a knight, sworn to protect all women?

"I would swear myself to you," Harwin said, kneeling at Rhaenyra's feet.

Her eyes were wide, glinting with unshed tears. "What? Are you mad? I'm ruined. If you swear yourself to me, you might as well kiss goodbye to all your prospects in King's Landing."

"As you said, this city is a hellhole," Harwin said reasonably. "I will go wherever you wish, your grace, whether that be Dragonstone or across the Sunset Sea."

She scrubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hand, breathing deeply. "You would protect me?" She asked finally.

"Always," he vowed. "I offer my services to you. I will shield your back and keep your council and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New."

Rhaenyra straightened herself, looking down at Harwin with all the dignity of a queen. "And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth, and meat and mead at my table," she said, the tears dissipating from her voice like dew in the sun. There was still grief, but there was strength as well. "I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New. Arise."

Harwin rose, and the princess looped her arm in his. "Come," she said, leading him into the night. "We need to get you packed."