Runestone, 297 AC – 28th June

Harwin

Harwin sat in the dimly lit room, his mind still heavy with the tension of the day's duties. His muscles ached from hours of dealing with the mountain clans and the volatile politics of the Vale, and his knightly attire clung to his damp skin, soaked with sweat from both the heat and the stress of the evening. As the future Lord of Runestone, there were always matters to attend to, always issues that needed resolution. But nothing had prepared him for the sight that stood before him now.

A sharp knock at his door snapped him from his thoughts. With a sigh, he rose and walked to the door, thinking it was perhaps a messenger or one of his retainers. But when he opened it, his breath caught in his throat.

Alyssa Arryn stood in the doorway, soaked to the bone, her clothes covered in dirt, and her face marred by a cut just above her hairline. Blood clung to her hair, and though the darkness of night cloaked much of her appearance, the hollow emptiness in her eyes was unmistakable. She was shivering—no, trembling—as though the very core of her had been shattered.

Without a word, Harwin stepped aside, his heart tightening as he moved to her side. Without thinking, he pulled her into his arms, drawing her close to the warmth of the hearth. Her damp cloak slid off her shoulders, and he helped her settle by the fire. His hands shook as he grabbed a clean cloth, dipping it in cool water before gently bringing it to her forehead, wiping away the dirt and blood with tender care.

"Alyssa…" His voice was hoarse with concern as he studied her closely. Her hands were bruised—her palms swollen, as though she had gripped the reins of her horse too tightly for too long. Her face was pale, drained of life, and the cut on her forehead was shallow but enough to cause concern.

He didn't need to ask her what had happened. He already knew, in the pit of his stomach, that this was no ordinary visit. Alyssa only ever came to him when something was terribly wrong. But seeing her like this—broken, lost—he felt an unfamiliar cold rage stir within him.

"You've never looked like this before," Harwin murmured, his voice almost a whisper. The only times he had ever seen her so distraught were the moments when tragedy struck, when her heart was torn apart in ways he could never fix.

"Tell me what happened," he urged, his grip tightening on her hands as he knelt before her. "Please, Alyssa, I need to know."

She looked up at him with those weary brown eyes, her voice barely audible through her ragged breaths. "I am no longer the heir," she said, her words trembling on her lips.

The weight of her statement hit him like a physical blow. He froze, staring at her, his mind racing to make sense of her words. "What do you mean? Alyssa, what happened?" he asked, his brow furrowing with confusion.

But before he could push further, Alyssa threw herself into his arms, her sobs breaking free like a dam that had finally cracked. Her hands dug into the fabric of his tunic, clinging to him as though he was the only thing in the world keeping her from falling apart completely. Harwin held her tight, his heart aching with each quiet sob that wracked her body.

The minutes stretched into what felt like hours as she cried. He held her close, running his fingers through her hair, trying to offer some comfort, even though he could feel her pain reverberating through his own chest. Slowly, between sobs, she began to speak.

Jon Arryn had disinherited her. He had stripped her of the title she had held for as long as she could remember—her birthright, her responsibility. The reason? Because she was a woman. Because, in his eyes, a woman couldn't hold power without men trying to undermine her, challenge her, and tear her down. He had stripped her of her future, all in the name of securing his own bloodline, his own legacy, through his sickly son.

Harwin's jaw clenched, his chest tight with a fury he couldn't fully contain. His mind reeled as he thought about what Alyssa had just said. Jon Arryn—her great-uncle, the man who had raised her—had discarded her like she was nothing more than a pawn in his game. The injustice of it churned in his gut.

The rage that flared in him was not only for what Jon had done to Alyssa, but for what he had done to the Vale itself. He had abandoned the future of his house, his line, and had placed it in the hands of a weak, useless child—only to secure his own bloodline, his own ego.

Harwin felt a seething hatred for Jon Arryn in that moment. The man had robbed Alyssa of everything—her inheritance, her power, and worst of all, her hope. And all for the sake of a petty, selfish agenda.

But it wasn't just anger that filled him now. It was a deep, desperate need to protect her—to fix the broken pieces that Jon had shattered.

Harwin's voice was low, filled with a raw intensity as he gently cupped Alyssa's face in his hands, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze.

"You are worth more than any title, Alyssa," he said, his eyes burning with conviction. "You are worth more than any of them, even if they cannot see it."

Her breath hitched, her gaze locking with his as she searched his eyes for something—anything—to give her comfort. And in that moment, Harwin made a promise to himself.

He would protect her. He would always protect her.

"Whatever happens next," he murmured softly, "I will be here. For you, Alyssa. Always."

The sun was still low in the sky as Harwin and Alyssa walked through the forest, the air crisp and fresh, but the tension between them hung thick. Alyssa, her mind clearly heavy with the weight of the conversation she had with Jon, had barely said a word since they left the warmth of the castle.

When they reached the weirwood, Alyssa paused, laying her hand gently on its weathered bark. Her touch was reverent, but there was an undercurrent of sorrow in the way she held herself.

Harwin watched her, his heart aching. The woman he loved—his betrothed for nearly all their lives—was slipping away, her future now bound to someone else. It tore at him.

When she turned to face him, her eyes were full of something Harwin couldn't quite place—pain, fear, and something else that made his stomach churn.

"You've been quiet," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "Tell me what's going on in your mind, Alyssa."

She took a deep breath, and he saw her struggle to find the right words. "Jon… he's sending me to Winterfell in a week. I—I have to marry Robb Stark." Her voice cracked as she said it, the weight of the words hanging between them like a cold wind.

Harwin felt as if the ground had been ripped out from under him. "What? Why? You can't! You can't marry him."

His voice grew louder, his frustration beginning to break through. She shook her head, her expression one of resignation.

"I have no choice, Harwin," she whispered. "Jon will strip my family of everything—lands, titles, everything. If I don't go, if I don't marry Robb, he will destroy all of us."

Harwin's blood boiled at her words, and before he could stop himself, he took a step forward, his fist clenching at his side.

"Don't you see, Alyssa?" He was shouting now, his voice raw with anger and desperation. "This is insane! You were meant for me! I was meant for you!"

His breath came heavy as he stepped toward her, his hand reaching for hers. "I'm not letting you go. I will fix this. I will make this right. You don't have to marry Robb Stark. You don't have to give everything up for this bastard's ambitions." His voice trembled with fury. "I will do whatever it takes. We were promised to each other, Alyssa. You and me."

Alyssa took a step back, her eyes wide as she stared at him, but Harwin wasn't finished. The rage, the helplessness, all of it surged in him, and he couldn't hold it back anymore.

"Gods damn it, you're not leaving me! You're not marrying Robb Stark!" His chest heaved with the intensity of his emotions. "I will have you. I'll make sure of it. I'll claim you as my wife, as the woman I was always meant to be with. I will have children with you, I'll make sure you're mine in every way." His words came out in a rush, desperate, raw, filled with an intensity that he could no longer control.

For a moment, he thought Alyssa might say something, but instead, she just stood there, her hands trembling at her sides. Harwin could see the confusion and fear in her eyes, and for a split second, he wished more than anything that he could take all of it away. That he could erase the weight of Jon's threats, the impossible choice that had been thrust upon her.

"Don't you see?" He stepped closer again, his voice softer now, but still filled with that same intensity. "I won't lose you. Not like this. I can't."

But Alyssa, as if breaking from a trance, took a step back. "I have no choice in this," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I have to go. I have to do this."

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and the pain of it hit him like a wave. He had never felt so powerless in his life.

"Don't say that," he growled, the edge of his voice breaking. "Don't you dare say that."

She shook her head, stepping back further, her gaze falling to the ground. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "But I have to do this."

Harwin let out a strangled, angry breath, his body trembling with the force of his frustration. "I will fix this," he muttered, almost to himself. "I will make this right. You belong here with me. You belong with Runestone. And I will make sure you're not forced into this marriage."

His hands reached out, but she was already walking away, her shoulders shaking with the weight of everything that had been said.

And for the first time in his life, Harwin felt as though he might lose everything that mattered to him.