Second Heir

second heir

pairing: harwin strong x targaryen!oc

synposis: tensions in the targaryen family rise when viserra targaryen, the youngest child of queen aemma and king viserys, gives birth to her second son with ser harwin strong. ser criston cole learns that picking on harwin strong's son is not the smartest decision.

warnings: graphic depiction of childbirth, swearing, violence, slight angst, fluff, ser cri*t*n c*le

notes: I usually do a reader insert but thought it would make more sense to use a targaryen-esque name - enjoy!

"Push Princess. Just one more."

A whimper escaped her lips. Her body felt like it was on fire. Or dipped in acid. Or both. In that moment, Viserra Targaryen was convinced there was no greater suffering on earth than that of childbirth.

"Push!"

"I'm fucking trying." Viserra seethed through clenched teeth as she pushed with all her might.

"Come on my love." The deep voice of her husband murmured in her ear as he knelt beside her. "Take my hand."

Viserra let out a groan of pain as she pushed once more, her hand clasping around her husband's as she squeezed with all her might.

"Why did you have to get me pregnant you fucking cunt, I swear I'm going to-" Her rant was cut off as she let out another scream of pain as the midwife behind her held open her legs.

"I think one more push will do it princess, I see the head!" The midwife announced from below her.

"Yes darling, tell me how much of a cunt I am come on." A gloved hand caressed her face, drawing her attention away from the midwife between her thighs. Her eyes locked with the deep brown ones of her husband.

"I love you, you stupid cunt- ah!" If he was not so strong she most likely would have pulverised the bones in his hand.

A breathy chuckle escaped Harwin Strong's lips as he squeezed her hand back.

"I am a cunt, a cunt that loves you very much." With that she clenched her eyes shut as she gave one last push.

She let out a moan of relief as the pain subsided, air filling up her lungs once more as the midwives gushed in praise.

"It's ok my love, it is over." Harwin murmured, kissing her damp hair as he held her closely.

"You are so strong, a brave mother." Viserra let out a silent sob as she clung to her husband, letting him pepper her face with kisses and praises as she fell limp in his arms.

"It is a boy, princess."

Viserra finally opened her eyes as crying filled the cavernous room. She was both crying and laughing with joy as she watched the midwife carefully bundle up her son.

Overwhelming love and warmth filled her as her son was placed into her outstretched arms. Almost as if those last few hours of pain had been erased, like she would do it all again now just to hold him like this.

"Healthy?"

"As healthy as one can be, princess." The midwife confirmed.

Viserra let out another sob as she cradled her son to her chest and placed a kiss to his forehead.

"Hi baby." She whispered to him, watching as he squirmed and flailed in her arms.

"Look how beautiful he is." She murmured, finally passing him to Harwin to hold.

"Well no wonder, look at his mother." Harwin smiled softly as he gently took his son in his arms. "I told you I knew it would be another boy."

Viserra felt her heart warm when she saw the tears rolling down her husband's cheeks as he spoke.

"He is perfect." She remarked, her eyes never leaving her son, completely entranced in the new life she and Harwin had just created.

"That he is." Harwin murmured as he carefully handed him back to Viserra.

"Princess." The sound of an unfamiliar voice made Viserra finally tear away her eyes from her son.

She felt a sense of dread course through her at the sight of the nervous handmaiden. She knew that could mean only one thing.

"The Queen has requested the child be brought to her. Immediately."

"Now? For what purpose?" Harwin's voice was demanding as he rose to his feet, a complete shift in his demeanour from only moments ago.

"I-I-" The handmaiden began to flounder, her eyes wide and fearful as she glanced between the commander and the princess.

"-it is fine." Viserra saved the handmaiden from her unpredictable fate.

"I will take him myself."

"You will do no such thing." Harwin snapped as Viserra began to push herself off the mattress. "You must rest."

"Your husband is right princess, you must stay in bed." One of the midwives agreed.

They were right, of course. Viserra wanted nothing more than to lay in bed with her husband and new son. But Queen Alicent Hightower had already ruined that perfect moment by sending her handmaiden in here. Just the mention of her name was poisonous enough to sour everything it touched.

The least Viserra could do now was ensure that she drip fed the Queen her own sweetly crafted poison while she met her grandson.

"Remove the cord and make sure the afterbirth has arrived. Then help me dress. Husband, you hold him."

Harwin eyed his wife for a few moments before nodding as he took his son once more. He knew his wife well enough to know that once she made her mind up, there was no changing it. Best to stand aside and let her run her course.

"It is done princess." One of the midwives announced after a few minutes.

Viserra gritted her teeth and wrapped a hand around one of the bedposts. She ground her teeth in an attempt to extinguish the grunt of pain she let out as she pulled herself off the bed and onto her feet.

"This is ridiculous." Harwin spat, his heart aching as he watched helplessly as his wife winced as the handmaidens cinched her dress around her waist.

"What could possibly be so urgent that she needs to see our son right away."

"I am sure the Queen has her very rationale reasons." Viserra drawled as the handmaidens stepped away from her.

"Let us just get this over with." She huffed as they opened the doors from their chambers.

"Run a bath for the princess for when she returns." Harwin murmured to one of the servants quietly so Viserra did not hear.

"Sister!" The sound of Rhaenyra's voice filled her ears the second they stepped into their main living quarters.

"A healthy boy, I heard." Viserra felt a smile form on her lips at the sight of her sister bounding towards her.

"Oh he is beautiful sister, congratulations." A rare true smile appeared on Rhaenyra's face as she stared down at her nephew.

"Thank you sister."

The smile was quick to fall from Rhaenyra's features when she noticed Harwin's grim features and the way her sister's smile did not meet her eyes.

Her brow narrowed when she watched her brother in law and sister begin to make their way towards the threshold of their quarters.

"What is wrong? Where are you going?"

"The Queen has requested to see him. Immediately." Harwin answered as they stepped into the hallway.

"She what?" Rhaenyra could hardly believe her ears as she walked alongside them.

"I know she did it with Joffrey but I never thought- she has gone too far. I cannot sit by and-"

"- you can and you will sister." Viserra cut her off, breathing deeply as pain rumbled through her.

"We will go and show her the child, let her feel powerful for a few moments. It might do her some good." Their voices were low as they made their way through the hallway. At a very slow pace at that given Viserra's state.

"I am coming with you."

"No." Viserra's voice was firm as she came to a stop to grab her sister's arm. "She will just find some way to villainize you or to get you to say something she can twist."

Rhaenyra's face morphed into one of sadness as she studied her sister.

"Let her torture us for a while." Viserra insisted.

"We can handle it." Harwin spoke, sending his sister in law a nod.

Rhaneyra glanced between them as she tried to reach a decision. She knew what the rationale one was. That her sister was right. As heir it was more strategic to leave it. But as Viserra's older sister, every part of her was screaming at her to march up those stairs and tear Allicent's hair from her scalp.

The look on Harwin's face was what made her decision for her. The look that said if anything happened to his wife, he would literally murder everything in sight. She knew her sister was safe with him.

"Fine." She relented. "But please try not to strain yourself too much sister." A hand reached up to gently brush Viserra's cheek.

"I will do my best." Viserra forced a small on her lips as she leant into her sister's touch.

With that Harwin and Viserra were on their way once more. Viserra let out a whimper as she clung to his arm. They had only made it a few metres when Harwin came to a stop.

"Alright that is it."

"Harwin what-"

"Hold him." Viserra opened her mouth in surprise as he passed their son into her arms.

"Harwin-" She let out a small yelp of surprise as he bent down and wrapped his hands under her back and legs and lifted her off the ground with ease.

She clung to their son as Harwin cradled her in his arms and began to march with a determined pace towards the Queen's chambers.

"Harwin-" She began for the third time.

"I will put you down before we go inside do not fret. We can let her think you scaled those steps on your own. But I am not letting my wife who just gave birth take another step if it can be avoided." He answered her as he passed by gaping onlookers without so much as a glance in their direction.

Her heart warmed at his words. She felt her anger subdue for a few moments as she studied her husband, with that look of loyal determination on his features. The face that she had fallen in love with as a teenager.

She remembered the day that he had taken up a position as a sworn protector of her family. The first time the pair locked eyes across the hall. The first time they spoke when he caught her trying to sneak out of the castle. The first time they unfurled their secrets to one another. The first time she took his hand and led him into her chambers.

While Rhaenyra was having her tryst with Criston Cole, Viserra was having hers with Harwin Strong.

But unlike her sister, Viserra did not have the weight of being their father's heir on her shoulders. Nor was her father as focused on marrying her off to the most politically strategic husband possible.

So when Viserra walked in one afternoon and informed her father that she was in love with Harwin Strong and was to wed him, what else was he to do but agree? He could never say no to his baby daughter, nor did he want to. He could see how in love she was and all he wished was for her to be happy. Besides, the rumours of their tryst and the ruining of her maidenhood had began to spread through the castle. This would quell those rumours.

It made sense politically too, given Harwin Strong was the son of the hand of the king and the heir to Harrenhal. It was the perfect strategic match for a second born daughter. That was how he had explained it to Alicent when she had questioned it anyway. Of course, that only deepened the queen's jealousy and resentment towards the Targaryen sisters.

Harwin came to a stop in front of the Queen's chambers. Viserra brought a hand up to caress his cheek.

"I love you husband."

"As I love you, wife." He answered, pressing a kiss to her palm as he gently placed her down on the ground. He captured her lips in a kiss. The usually frowned upon public display of affection caused the guards stationed at the door to divert their eyes.

"Give her hell." He whispered into her ear as the doors opened.

That she would.

Their son squirmed in her arms as they made their way inside. Neither spared Ser Criston Cole a glance as they passed him. Alicent was standing at the window, her back to them, her gaze fixed over the sea.

Viserra fought the urge to double over in pain as her insides burned. Her body was slick with sweat. Practically dripping from head to toe. Her blonde hair plastered to her face and back.

It was a comfort to her to know that even when she looked like this, Alicent's beauty would still never compare. A small comfort, perhaps a petulant one. But a comfort nonetheless.

"Viserra." Alicent's sickly sweet voice rung out through the cavernous room.

"What are you doing here? You should be resting after your labours." Her concern almost sounded sincere.

"I did not wish to disappoint you, your grace." Viserra answered as Harwin ushered her over to the couch.

"Oh yes, please sit." Alicent nodded, her dress swishing at her ankles as she made her way over to them.

She watched with intense eyes as Harwin guided his wife down to sit on the sofa. His gaze was so full of love and concern it almost made Alicent feel ill. Anger rippled through her as he placed a tender kiss to Viserra's forehead.

Such love, such intimacy. It was something that Alicent would never experience. At least Rhaenyra had to make some small sacrifices in the name of duty as heir. Viserra on the other hand did not even know the meaning.

Being the second born daughter meant the focus had always been off her. That she could run around and do as she pleased with no consequences. Alicent had known of her treacherous affair with the Strong boy, she had even gone to Viserys with the information. Yet nothing was done, she was brushed off once more. And after all that Viserra still got to wed the man that she loved.

"I cannot believe how long it has been since your last son was born. How old is Aemar now?"

"He will be six next month, your grace." Harwin answered her.

"Six." Alicent remarked. "Such a long space in between children."

"It was not for a lack of trying your grace." Viserra answered her as she raised a brow. "Believe me."

Harwin glanced down at his feet to hide his smirk as Alicent's mouth drew into a sharp line.

"Yes well, better late than never I suppose." She cleared her throat as she approached them.

"Let me meet him properly." It was a demand, not a question. Her arms extended expectantly. Viserra bit her tongue as she reluctantly handed the queen the small bundle in her arms.

"He was two weeks early I understand? Like his brother?"

"Ten days early, your grace."

Alicent let out a hum as she examined the child in her arms intently. "Do the maesters think it will impact him the way it has Aemar?"

Viserra could feel the fire beginning to build up inside her.

"I am not sure I understand, your grace." Harwin spoke for her, noting the way his wife's fists had curled up the material of the sofa.

"Well the boy is quite small for his age."

Criston Cole smirked in the corner.

"The maesters have assured us they are both strong and healthy. They do have Targaryen blood after all." Viserra answered, using every ounce of her strength to keep her voice calm.

"Unless you are questioning the quality of Targaryen blood, your grace. Which I am sure was not your intention."

Alicent looked up from the child, her eyes locking with Viserra's.

"Of course not. I suppose it would have to be the integrity of your husband's blood that caused such defects."

Silence fell over the room. It had been such an off handed remark. Said so casually and plainly for how great of an insult the words wielded.

Harwin and Viserra were no fools. They were aware of the Queen's suspicions around the lineage of Rhaenyra's three children. The rumours that they had been fathered by one of the knights in the city watch. They were true, of course. It was plain as day. The three boys had dark brown hair and pale skin. But nothing would extract that confession from Viserra.

It was only logical for Alicent to start questioning the lineage of Viserra's children too. If one sister was capable of adultry, why not the other? It did not help that Aemar had been born small and lean, particular in comparison to his father. But the maesters had assured Harwin and Viserra that he was merely a late bloomer, that he would grow into his build.

As Viserra stared at Alicent, she wondered how she had ever felt sympathy for her. Much less been her friend. She used to follow Rhaenyra and Alicent around wherever they went when she was a child. Hanging onto their every word like it was gospel.

Even after her father had announced his intention to wed Alicent, Viserra had still tried to be friends. She had seen how Otto Hightower had manoeuvred his daughter like a chess piece for his own gain. And she had felt sorry for her as she watched her churn out child after child, trapped in a loveless marriage.

But the moment she had started going after Rhaenyra, all hope was lost. And as the three women grew, Alicent's bitterness towards Rhaenyra spread to Viserra, entangling her up in her web of venom and lies and hatred.

There was no repairing the bond that had been broken.

"What did you say?" Harwin's voice was low, his eyes bright with rage.

He took a step towards her. The sound of Criston Cole's blade being unsheathed rang out behind them.

"Husband, relax." Viserra brought a hand up to grip his forearm.

She turned around in her seat and glared at Criston. "And sheath your blade Ser Criston, there is no need for such theatrics." She resisted the urge to smile at the sight of his glowering stare.

"The Queen did not mean any harm by her words." Her voice was scarily light and calm. She forced a chuckle up her throat and past her lips. Her face was the perfect portrait of calm.

She thought she might tear the Queen's head clean off her shoulders when she noticed Alicent's grip on her son tighten.

"You know that she is often left alone by father, sometimes he forgets to pass on things. Like what the maester's have told him about the health of his grandchildren."

Viserra could feel Harwin relax under her touch as she shot Alicent a smile.

"Right, your grace?"

If looks could kill, Viserra would be shredded into ribbons right now.

"Of course. I meant no offence." Alicent managed to force out, causing Viserra's grin to widen.

Viserra knew she should leave it at that. To not poke the beast. But Alicent's insult had ignited the flame within her. And once that flame was alight, it could not easily be extinguished.

"You know, you must get your boys to come meet their new nephew, your grace. Especially Aegon." Viserra spoke casually as Alicent handed her son back to her.

"Must I?"

"Oh yes. I mean with me as second heir and the birth of our son that would put Aegon now at... seventh in line?" Viserra feigned confusion as she glanced up at Harwin.

Harwin knew the nature of the game instantly.

"Eighth, my love. Counting our little nephew." Harwin responded, a smirk on his lips as he glared at the queen.

"Oh yes eighth of course, I almost forgot to count little Prince Joffrey. My mistake." Viserra chuckled.

"I know Aegon is not so... passionate about ruling as you or your father are, so I am sure that the knowledge he is now eighth in line would be most relieving for him to hear."

Viserra was not sure if she had ever seen Alicent so unhinged. Her bottom lip trembled and her face twitched as she stared at her step-daughter. Usually the perfect face of righteousness and dignity. The ever composed queen. She looked as if she might just step forward and scratch Viserra's eyes out.

"You dare-"

"What happy news this morning!"

Viserra felt her heart warm at the sight of her father making his way through the double doors. Viserys' eyes lit up at the sight of his daughter and his newest grandson.

"It appears your hunch was right Harwin, a healthy boy I have heard."

"Indeed your grace." Harwin smiled as Viserra extended out the bundle of cloth for him to take.

"Let me see my handsome grandson."

Alicent glared as she watched her husband take the child in his arms. He had never even looked that happy when holding their own children.

"Oh he is beautiful. He will make a strong knight I am sure." Viserys beamed as he rocked the babe gently.

"Has my grandson got a name yet?"

"We were thinking Edmyn." Viserra answered when Harwin glanced down at her questioningly.

A grin spread across his lips at the name. It was a traditional House Strong name. One that Viserra knew Harwin had been secretly dying for.

"Edmyn? That is an unusual Valyrian name." Alicent chimed in. Viserra had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

"Because it is not one. Aemar has a Valyrian name, I think it only fitting we also pay homage to the Strongs."

"I could not agree more daughter. Edmyn suits him. I am sure your father will be proud of it Harwin."

"Indeed he will your grace."

This time it was Alicent's turn to not roll her eyes.

"You know, I think I can see a bit of his grandmother in him." Viserys remarked, his voice cracking ever so slightly. Viserra could feel tears threatening to pool in her own eyes at the mention of her mother.

Harwin cleared his throat when he noticed his wife's state.

"If it is ok with you, your grace, your daughter has been more braver than I could ever be, I think she deserves to rest."

"Oh of course." Viserys smiled as he glanced down at his daughter. "I know how draining your labours can be."

"Thank you father." Viserra grimaced as Harwin helped her back up onto her feet.

"We are hoping to bare you a granddaughter next." She continued as she studied Alicent. "And we have already picked out the name."

She was more than happy to twist the knife in further.

"Aemma."

This time Alicent could not fight the eye roll at Viserra's words, turning her back as she did so.

A tear rolled down Viserys' cheek as he brought his hand up to caress his daughter's cheek.

"We can only hope the gods may be so kind." Viserys smiled as he embraced her in a tight hug.

"Now go rest with your husband and new child."

Viserra winced as she slipped into the hot tub. She withheld a moan as the warm water surrounded her, melting into her skin and bones.

"I am sorry if I bled on you."

Harwin let out a small chuckle and shook his head as he knelt down beside the tub.

"I have seen the worst that mankind has to offer, the type of violence that no one should see. You really think a little bit of blood is going to offend me?" He mused as he brought a damp cloth up to her forehead.

His gaze softened when she did not reply, watching as her eyes fluttered closed.

"You should not have had to go through that today." He murmured as he tenderly cleaned her.

"No." She conceded. "I should not have."

"You would not have to if we left King's Landing. If we travelled to Harrenhal and lived with my family."

"You know I cannot leave Rhaenyra. Not with these spiders circling her ever tighter. She is surrounded. I am all she has." Harwin withheld a sigh at her words.

They were expected, but disappointing none the less.

"I know."

No more was said as Harwin bathed her and helped her dress. He picked her up and carried her to their bed, placing her gently on the satin sheets.

She was asleep before her head hit the pillow. Harwin smiled softly as he watched her sleep, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Viserra stirred but did not wake at the sound of a soft knock on the door. Harwin spared her one last glance before he crept to the door. He was greeted by Rhaenyra Targaryen on the other side.

"Is Viserra asleep?"

"She has had a long day." He answered quietly.

Rhaenyra merely nodded in understanding, her face tight with worry as she glanced over Harwin's shoulder.

"She will tell you all tomorrow, I am sure." He assured the princess.

"Was it bad?"

"Quite. Alicent grows more venomous each day." Harwin answered.

"I thought Viserra would be spared given she is not first heir."

"It appears that her resentment has spread to encompass your sister too, princess." Harwin could not hide the anger in his voice as he spoke. He hated feeling so helpless, like there was nothing he could do to protect his wife.

"You should leave, you do not have to stay here. Both of you and the boys should go to Harrenhal. Be spared from this torture." Rhaenyra whispered, desperation evident in her voice.

"You and I both know that Viserra will never leave you alone here."

Rhaenyra sighed and nodded in agreement. "I wish I had not taught her to be so stubborn."

A sad smile spread across Harwin's lips.

"As do I."

Harwin squinted as the sunlight hit his eyes. He stepped out into the training courtyard. The sound of wooden swords hitting sacks filled with barley filled his ears. The grunts of young boys exerting themselves as they practiced.

He glanced up to see Viserys watching from above. He gave him a nod and a smile in greeting. His eyes scanned the yard, counting four of his nephews. He was quick to spot his son. The smallest of the five children. And the only one skulking about in the corner.

A smile spread across his lips as he watched the way Aemar's eyes brightened at the sight of him. Aemar dropped his sword without a second thought and raced towards him, weaving between the other boys to reach him.

Harwin let out a small chuckle as Aemar smashed into his leg, wrapping his thin limbs around his thigh to cling to him.

"Is it supper time father? Is training over?" His son asked as he peered up at him through his thick head of dark hair.

"Not quite yet. I just came to see how you were getting along."

"Oh." Aemar's smile was quick to fall. He watched as his father crouched down to meet his eyes.

"Maybe I can finish training early today? Could you ask mother?"

"Your mother is sleeping with your brother. She is quite tired."

"Oh no do not disturb her then, mother deserves as much rest as she can have." Aemar's brow knitted together as concern flashed across his features.

Harwin smiled softly as he ran a hand through his son's hair. He had always been so considerate and kind of others. Something that worried Harwin slightly. That kind of compassion was a weakness here.

"How has your training been going?" Harwin's eyes drifted over to Criston to see Criston's gaze already locked onto his.

Aemar glanced down at his feet. "Fine."

A lie.

Harwin could see Criston speaking to Alicent's boys, Rhaenyra's children left to practice on their own. He had a feeling his son was being given the same treatment.

"Go on then, I will watch you train and then we can go get something to eat." Harwin shot his son a warm smile and patted him on the shoulder.

Aemar, never one to disappoint his parents, dutifully nodded before scurrying back to the centre of the yard.

Harwin rose to his full height and paced around the edge of the square. He could feel Criston's eyes on him as he walked but chose to ignore it as he watched the boys begin to spar.

Criston and Harwin were similar, some would say. Both knights, protectors of the royal family. Both had fallen in love with a Targaryen princess. Both had disgraced their sacred vows to bed them.

The difference between Criston and Harwin was that Harwin's infatuation was not one sided. A difference that both were acutely aware of.

Harwin had always found Criston's jealousy quite pathetic. And initially quite humorous. That was until Ser Criston had started taking out his anger on Viserra and Rhaenyra's children.

"Come on Aemar, weapons up." He encouraged when he saw his son hesitantly go to pick up his sword.

His small fingers had nearly reached the hilt when Criston's boot stepped on it, crushing it as he brushed past Aemar to speak to Aegon.

"It seems some of your younger pupils could do with a bit more attention, Ser Criston." Harwin could not control his tongue any longer. If he did not say something, it would be his fists that would talk instead.

"You question my method of instruction?" Criston answered him.

"No, I merely suggest that method be applied to all your pupils."

"With all due respect Ser, I doubt you can have an impartial stance on the matter."

Harwin barked out a humourless laugh as he locked eyes with him. "Humour me."

Criston eyed him for a few moments before an unreadable expression crossed his features.

"Very well. Aemar, you spar with Aegon."

Harwin gritted his teeth as he watched Criston grip his son's armour and yank him into the centre of the field.

"That is hardly a fair match."

Indeed, Aegon was at least twice his son's size and weight and even in age. Aegon, being the spoilt cunt that he was, seemed delighted at the opportunity to crush a weaker opponent.

"When steal is drawn a fair match isn't something anyone should expect."

Harwin glanced up at the viewing balcony at the king and his father. Neither seemed willing to say a word.

"Blades up." Criston continued.

Harwin could see Aemar was shaking, even from where he was standing. His son was not a fighter, at least not yet. He was small and skinny and his temperament was the most gentle he had seen. He may grow into one yet, but Harwin was certain that this type of combat would not help him get there.

Aemar glanced at his father, his eyes pleading as he shakily rose his sword up in front of his chest.

"Engage."

Aegon let out an unhinged scream as he hurtled himself at Aemar. Harwin was too far away to stop him from hitting Aemar across the face and pushing him down. Harwin reached him as Aegon raised his sword to bring it down onto Aemar's chest.

Harwin lunged forward and grabbed the older prince by the scruff of the neck. Aegon let out a scream of frustration, thrashing around against Harwin as he tried to attack his younger nephew.

"Aegon!" The King finally let out a weak reprimand from above.

Harwin simply shoved him away, sending him stumbling into Ser Criston.

Rhaenyra's children ran to crowd around Aemar who was still on his back. They were murmuring comforting and encouraging things to him as Harwin reached them.

"Son, are you all right?" Harwin crouched down, his heart hammering in his chest as he brought his son up to sit.

The wood had drawn blood, a small slice across Aemar's smooth cheek. It was still enough to make Harwin see red.

"I am ok father." Aemar's small voice wavered, his chin wobbling as he tried to keep a brave face.

"I am confused Ser Harwin. You wish for me to treat your son equally and yet intervene within mere seconds."

Harwin's jaw clenched at the sound of Criston's mocking voice behind him. Harwin rose to his full height, his fists bunched at his sides as he turned to glare at Cole.

"The prince could have been seriously hurt. That match up was not safe."

Criston let out a small chuckle as Harwin turned around once more to pay attention to his son. He needed to quell his anger before he could no longer contain it and did something regrettable.

"I am sorry you feel that match was not fair, Strong." Cole spoke as he eyed Harwin.

"But I am afraid due to your son's.... stature... none of his nephew's would be a fair match." Harwin glanced down at his son who's head hung in shame at Ser Criston's words.

He could hear Aegon and Aemond sniggering behind him.

"Perhaps I could ask one of the handmaiden's to volunteer. Or your new son. They are probably equal in strength."

The snap of broken bone hung in the air.

Criston stumbled back as blood began to leak from his nose. Harwin let out an animalistic growl as he knocked him to his feet and launched himself on top of him. He landed punch after punch, screaming as he let out his rage.

"Say it again! Speak that way about my son again!" He shouted as arms wrapped around him and forced him off the knight.

Criston's body was limp, his head lolling back as blood poured from his nose.

"You talk about him like that again and I will fucking kill you, do you hear me!" He bellowed as other knights dragged him away.

Viserys and Lionel watched from above, their faces grim as they watched the scene unfold.

"So much for that pleasant afternoon." Viserys sighed.

"I heard it took four knights to pull you off him."

Harwin winced as Viserra pressed an ointment into his blistering knuckles.

"I was a bit too preoccupied to count."

Amusement flashed across her features as she rubbed the ointment in gently.

"I wish I was there to witness it, would have got me all hot and bothered."

Harwin shook his head, trying to fight the smile on his face as he glanced up at his wife.

"What? It taking four knights pulling me off him, or watching Ser Criston being beat into a pulp."

"Can a woman not find both equally arousing?" She teased him as she placed the ointment on the table beside the bed.

She withheld a sigh when she watched the smile seep from his face. His eyes glazing over as he thought about today's events. She leant forward and captured his lips in a gentle kiss.

"You did nothing wrong, my love." She mumbled against his lips as she pressed their foreheads together. "

Cole should not have dared insult a prince like that. All the boys heard him say it, he has no way to talk himself out of it. He will be punished. I will see to it that you are not. You were just protecting your son." Viserra's voice was thick with emotion as she spoke, anger furling up inside her at the memory of her husband relaying the words that Cole had said to their son.

She could not think about it for to long. Or think about the small cut on Aemar's cheek that she touched when she kissed him goodnight. It made her sick with rage. Angry enough to burn the entire castle to the ground.

"I still should not have lost my temper. Not in front of Aemar. It sets a bad example." He mumbled as he glanced down at his bruised knuckles.

"It might have frightened him."

Viserra's gaze softened at her husband's words. She ran a hand through his thick hair before using her index finger to tilt his chin up and force him to meet her eyes.

"Aemar adores you. He could never be frightened of you. He knows that you would only act like that if our family was in danger."

Harwin smiled as Viserra leant forward to kiss her husband's forehead.

"I do not know what I would do without you." He mumbled against her skin as he embraced her in a tight hug and buried his head into her chest.

"Nor I you." She whispered to him as she let him cling to her, engulfing her frame as she wrapped her arms around him.

It was in that moment that Viserra's mind wandered back to the conversation they had yesterday when she was taking her bath. About leaving King's Landing. And for the first time, she felt herself seriously considering it.

A knock at the door made both of them pull apart. They exchanged glances before turning their attention to the entrance.

"Enter." Viserra called.

"Rhaenyra." Her sister's name slipped through her lips at the sight of her.

"Sister, Ser Harwin." Rhaenyra inclined her head as they both rose to their feet to greet her.

"What brings you here at such a late hour?" Viserra's brow knitted together as she studied her sister.

"I came to tell you." Rhaenyra swallowed as her eyes darted between them.

"My family and I are leaving. Tomorrow."

Viserra's lips parted in surprise, her eyes darting to Harwin before turning back to her sister.

"To Dragonstone?"

"I should have left years ago." Rhaenyra nodded.

"But what of your position. If that bloodsucking queen has father all to herself-"

"-I have been made a spectacle of sister." Rhaenyra snapped, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "They whisper about me in the corridors. I wish to leave them to it."

Rhaenyra sniffled as she held back her tears, her eyes moving from her sister to Harwin who was studying her warily.

"After the events of yesterday and today, I cannot stay here any longer. You and your family have been tarred with the same brush. I cannot let you be tried and punished for the crimes Alicent believes me to have committed."

"Sister." Viserra breathed out as she stepped forward to take her sister's hands in her own.

"I beg of you, do not do this for my benefit. We are on your side, in your corner. We can batter this storm."

Rhaenyra shook her head and squeezed her sister's hands tightly. "I know sister, I know. But this is a storm that we should flee from." She locked eyes with Harwin's once more.

"And I am not doing this for my benefit, I am doing it for both of our families."

Harwin came to stand beside Viserra as she released her sister's hands, confusion contorting on her features.

"Come with us." Rhaenyra continued as she glanced between the couple.

"We can be a family. Our boys can do as they like, play and train without us having to fear what Criston Cole might do to them."

Viserra dragged her eyes from Rhaenyra up to Harwin's. He was already staring down at her, his face muscles taught. In that moment, it was just the two of them together as they studied eachother.

"Your father-"

"My father does not matter." Harwin cut her off. "Our family is what matters. You know I have always championed us to leave this place."

"I cannot ask you to do this." She whispered, her voice wavering as she spoke.

"I go wherever you go. I would follow you to the end of the earth my love." He murmured back, squeezing her hand tightly.

"It would be nice to give birth and stay in bed for longer than thirty seconds." She murmured after a few moments. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he nodded in agreement.

"Indeed."

For once Rhaenyra was unable to hold back her tears as she watched her baby sister and her husband.

"To Dragonstone then?"

The couple turned to her at her words. "To Dragonstone." Harwin agreed, squeezing his wife's hand once more.

"Maybe you can beat up Cole once more before we go. Just so Viserra and I can have a fond memory of this place to look back on."

A grin spread across Harwin's lips as Viserra chuckled beside him.

"That can be arranged."

I adore this fic and the little family I have created hehehe <3 p.s totally canon that Viserra and Harwin have a girl called Aemma. As always, feedback would be super super appreciated and you can give it back HERE!

TW: Somnophilia. Soft SMUT. Creampie

The stitches between the realm of dreams and reality haven’t snapped just yet, your consciousness is jumping from each side of the chasm as feather-like pecks pepper on your shoulders. A lithe finger tugs down the thin strap of your white sleeping gown as the caresses besiege more territory. “Levi…too early.” You’re right, the sun still dozes under its cozy covers, but Levi’s eagerness doesn’t stick to schedules.

Twirling a disheveled lock of hair around a finger, he brings his mouth to your ear and purrs, “it’s ok, sweetheart. You don’t have to do…, ah!” He winces at the blissful sensation spreading under his belly as he rolls his hips against your sleeping figure; you can feel his half-limp cock growing bigger and harder.

“I’ll do the job.” He finishes his sentence. You hum groggily, nuzzling your face in the fluffy pillow. A little smile quirks at the corners of his lips. He lifts the bottom of your nightie, and his fingers anchor at the hem of your cotton underwear, shimming them down your legs and tosses them away. Rimy air slaps your butt cheeks, and you pout but Levi warms you up with kisses, pampering the stretch marks he adores. He pinches here, and slaps there, tenderly so as not to cause any discomfort.

He takes his boxers off, giving a respite to his restrained erection. who knows what he was dreaming about to wake up like this at four am. He grunts and rubs himself on your ass.

You’re so beautiful when you’re asleep. So peaceful, little snores flee between your parted lips.

He lubes you up as well as his hardness and pushes you on your tummy, spreading your legs to access from behind.

You can feel his weight and warmth over you, his heartbeats drumming on your back. He pushes in, and both mewl in unison. You love it when he takes you like this, with your tummy flat on the bed, you can feel the tip of his cock reaching your depths, and when he moves, he strokes the right place, giving full attention to your g spot.

His hips rock back and forth at a languid rhythm, taking every inch of your tight channel, letting the heat swaddle him. You feel so good clamp around him, always taking him so well.

“Levi…” you breath his name like honey. “Love you.”

“I-ah!” He throws his head back, “love you too.” He leans and kisses your head. “Can I… can I come inside?”

“As you please.”

Shit.

His cock twitches at the thought of filling you with his seed. Him leaving his mark inside you. He increases the pace just enough, beads of sweat making his forehead glow. His harsh breaths tangle in your hair, and you know you won’t make it before him. He’ll find a way to make it up to you later.

Waves of come crash in your cervix; a low growl follows, and he pushes deep into you, pressing his pricking balls between your thighs.

But he doesn’t pull out when he’s done. He stays there, with a huge smile plastered on his face, shifting your entwined bodies a bit to the side, and little by little, Morpheus casts his magic on him too.

when lorde said "it feels so scary getting old" and when frank ocean said "we'll never be those kids again" and when taylor swift said "it's supposed to be fun turning 21" and when mitski said "mom am i still young can i dream for a few months more" and when phoebe bridgers said "how can a person know everything at 18 and nothing at 22" and when haim said "was i fearless at 17 years old or was i faking it?"

Din Djarin x Fem!Reader 

Genres: Smut, action, fluff, angst.

Rating: 18+ nsfw will be marked with **

What is a former combat medic to do when an injured Mandalorian stumbles upon her clinic one night on Klatooine? Updated sporadically - I try to keep it once a fortnight but that is contentious at best. Arcs are listed chronologically and begin pre-Season 1 and will extend beyond the finale of Season 2.

| Main Masterlist |

.

Prequel Arc - pre-season 1 of The Mandalorian. You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another. [complete 15k]

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

The Interlude - Season 1 episode 8. The Mandalorian sends his most precious cargo to you. [complete 15k]

| Part 1 |

Exploration Arc - Canon divergent. Before the beginning of Season 2. It’s mighty hard to distract yourself from your mysterious and alluring shipmate, so why bother?  [complete 120k]

| Part 1* | Part 2* | Part 3* | Part 4* | Part 5* | Part 6* | Part 7* | Part 8* | Part 9* |

New Republic Arc - Between Season 2 Episode 1 and throughout Episode 2. Din’s recklessness this time was a step too far. [complete 55k]

| Part 1* | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4* |

Pamarthe Arc - Immediately after New Republic Arc. The lead you pick up brings you, Din and the Child to a familiar planet. [Companion Guides]

| Part 1* | Part 2.1 2.2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 |

[optional miniseries] Wounded Stag Arc - Season 2 Episode 3 to Season 2 Episode 6. A highly sensitive and dangerous mission has Senetor Organa teaming one of her best pilots with the person she trusts the most: her brother. M/M Luke Skywalker/OMC Kai Carria

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

The Jedi Arc - Season 2 Episode 3 to Season 2 Episode 8. Note: some canon events are mentioned in passing to avoid repeating episodes line for line.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

The Lost Arc - Two months after the events of Season 2 Episode 8.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

Descendants Arc - Three weeks after the conclusion of The Lost Arc.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

Heart of Mandalore Arc - Immediately following the Descendants Arc.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

to be continued…

**

Stitches Verse Extras:

Mandomedic One Shots | antigen | negative |

Mandomedic Drabbles| one |

OC Drabbles | one | two |

| Din Djarin NSFW Alphabet |

| Stitches Art |

| Headcanons |

(18+) More Than Our Servitude - Part II

NSFW | (TV!) Sandor Clegane x Fem!Reader | Requested | Oneshot turned Multi-Part

Trigger warning: Canon-typical violence, sexism, the implied threat of sexual assault, the reader becomes a victim of physical assault. The reader is wounded: cuts. Contains explicit scenes of sexual nature.

Summary: Your journey with the Hound continues. It doesn't matter how fast Stranger takes the both of you. The Hound cannot outride his past. Emotions reach a peak after a dangerous encounter, and you do not escape unscathed.

Author's Note: I've taken some liberties with the canon material, but nothing that changes the plot line of the show or established canon from either source material. Spending time with the Hound should make you able to get to know him better, right? ☺️

It looked wrong. After days of riding past deserted farms, standing like blackened skeletons with their fields scorched, the small village in the middle of the forest felt like a dream.

"Trust me."

Clegane shifted in the saddle. "Not happening."

"You are the famed Hound. People would recognize you. Me? I could be anyone, just a wanderer."

"Think it normal for lone women to travel the countryside?" he countered.

"More so with the Riverlands burning," you answered and looked up at the face locked in a scowl. "I can do this. We need to eat."

Clegane nodded towards the village. "None in there would dare bother you if I'm with. We'll be far gone when someone finds out there's gold on our heads."

"Your head," you corrected. "Isn't it better if we don't leave any trail, be a needle in a haystack?"

The hand at the small of your back made your heart race. How of all things was this what finally-

"Wait!" 

A push, gentle yet firm. 

Sliding down, Stranger whinnied out as your feet hit the ground. 

"Get then," Clegane spat. "Grown tired of your bickering. Would serve me right to take off while you're gone and be rid of you."

You had already begun to unfasten the empty satchel, shaking out the crumbs left by the rations, and fished out the leather pouch with his coin from the saddlebag.

"Then you would be hungry, penniless, and alone," you replied. "If you wish I could remain silent from now on."

Clegane's mouth twitched, pressing to a thin line, and for a brief moment, something else flickered in those angry eyes of his. With a last smile and a curtsy, you turned on your heel and began the walk down the hill, counting his silver.

There were necessities: salt, hard biscuits, and hopefully cured meat. Perhaps the tavern even had a cheap warm meal, it wouldn't serve well as a ration, but tonight it would do both of you good. Looking out over the village, fruit trees dotted its surroundings. Plums, apples, and pears. In one of the fields grew bundles of green turnips. Those usually were cheap. Roasted with some herbs, salt, and butter, even the Hound wouldn't be kept frowning. Wine, you couldn't forget the wine.

The soft thuds of hooves against dirt made you peer back. Clegane didn't offer you as much as a glance, his dark eyes fixed on the tavern. Keeping to silence, you only squinted up at the man.

"Don't trust it," Clegane pushed through gritted teeth.

Freshly baked bread, mulled wine, and hot cider. All pleasant scents one could expect from a tavern, even unpleasant ones of vomit and urine wouldn't have made you frown as Clegane pushed the door open. It wasn't wholly unfamiliar. Thick and musky, the scent of bodies in heat was soon joined by its sounds. 

The stalls that ran along the walls of the tavern had been fitted with drapes. Moany breaths and pleads left those closed, while women laid on the seats of the ones still open, watching you both, their dresses nothing more than loosly draped cloth tied with string at their waists.

A plump older woman stood by the bar, her breasts barely fitting in the bodice and when her eyes landed on you the smile on her lips grew a bit warmer.

"Looking for a night's stay?" she asked.

"Food," Clegane only said and signed for you to step forward. 

"I-I thought this was a tavern," you stammered.

"Oh it was, love, but it is what it is," she replied, shrugging. "Better to entertain soldiers this way than for them to think of a way themselves, no? Their games can be rather harsh. So what shall you and your husband have? Got some pie, no meat I'm afraid, but it'll get you filled up."

You glanced up at Clegane but he gave no tell of approval. 

"He's not my husband." 

"A contender?" the woman giggled.

"None of your concern," Clegane rasped and the smile on the inkeeper's face grew tense.

"He's helping me travel to Highgarden, I have family there." And hopefully that lie would send any persuers in the wrong direction.

"Where you travelling from?" she asked.

"Riverrun," you said, continuing the lie. 

"The lions taken it?"

"I don't know, didn't stay there long enough to find out," you replied and looked to your feet.

Had it already been taken? It wasn't like washerwomen were invited to the war table and you didn't have a great many places to pick from. You knew every street of King's Landing and which areas of Flea Bottom were the safest to walk. Outside that, was a world you'd only heard in passing. Seats belonging to one lord or the other. 

"You a King's man?" the innkeeper asked but Clegane kept silent, still stewing in his anger but her smile didn't waver. "Those that serve the good of the realm have our girls for free."

With a whistle, one of the women left the open stalls, the dress undone, bundling at her waist and the bare skin oiled. You fixed your eyes on the satchel filled with food as she jumped up on the counter to sit.

He wasn't your husband. Made no promises, sworn no vow. You knew he had visited brothels in King's Landing, Clegane never boasted of it, but you knew it just as you knew that almost every man did. One thing to know it and another to see it.

"I'll go and water the horse," you mumbled, emptying the coinpurse and darting out with your rations.

What would even the protest be? Don't? Because you're there? Because you wanted him to come to you instead? When he became Kingsguard, you had hoped. He would have been far from the first that went to a washerwoman for comfort, but the man never came and you never saw the women he went to instead. It left room. Room for your fantasies to make the world something it wasn't, make you the woman in one of the winesinks he tapped on the shoulder.

Stranger stood tethered by a wooden post, but this time the black stallion didn't whinny out as you came close.

"Would serve me right to take off and be rid of him while he's gone," you said and rolled your eyes.

Even if that had been a plan, Stranger was a warhorse and you had heard the talk of stablehands. They weren't trained to be pleasant and amicable like a palfrey. The only ones that could safely ride them were their masters, not even all squires could take to their knight's horse.

"She was very lovely," you said and fastened the satchel. "Bet she can make him in a good mood."

As the tears started to well, you hit your head against the side of the saddle making Stranger stomp down.

"Could you let me pity myself for a moment please?" you whispered.

The door to the tavern struck open and you didn't even need to turn to know it was the Hound. He was quick at least. For the first time your heart didn't race as his hands caught your waist and hoisted you up in the saddle.

"Never been in a whorehouse before?" he asked, you only shook your head in response. "Not too grown for a silent treatment?"

"You were tired of my bickering."

Clegane swung up behind you, snorting. "True. Left to me to make a new plan then."

You twisted in the saddle, "We had a plan?"

"Thought going east would be good, doubt they've heard about any Clegane there. Gold to be had in being a sellsword," he replied and grimaced. "Slavers. The eastern shore is full with them, ain't taking you there."

"How is that any different from bands of broken men?"

"It's different," Clegane said but as the village started to grow distant behind you he continued, "A broken man fights to stay alive. Killing, theft, some turn rapers. A bandit with better arms."

"How is that different from slavers?"

"Smarter. Already forgotten the Greyjoy Rebellion?" he asked.

Waiting for Stranger to bob down his head, you kicked over your leg, so your side was to him. It was rare for him to be this talkative. If the woman in the tavern had gotten his warmth, you'd at least savor the rest.

"You fought in it?"

It earned you another snort. "Gregor fought in it, I guarded. Kept to the shores of the Westerlands dealing with raiders," he said and his eyes looked to the road ahead, beyond it and his voice grew distant. "Sure, they'd kill a few men, torch some houses but they'd scurry off the moment one came riding. For every man killed, twice the number of women and children were taken."

"The Ironborn took slaves?"

"Aye, but they didn't keep all of them. Some they gave to their Drowned God." Clegane returned to you, the dark eyes meeting yours. "Tyroshi wouldn't sacrifice you to the waves."

"If any of them win, the Lannisters, the Baratheons or the Stark? Would any pardon you?" you asked.

"Fat chance of that. The King in the North might send me to the Wall if he's anything like his Lord Father. At least that one would take my head himself."

"No slaver is taking me and no King in the North is taking your head," you spat and Clegane cocked his brow. "What?"

"First time I hear you growling," he said. 

The camp for the night was made by a small brook, birch trees rising high around the meadow. The sky had gone purple. It was a luxury to be able to roll out your bedroll before dusk was claimed by night. Watching as the water in the kettle came to a boil, you pulled it off the fire. The rabbit, skinned and gutted, sizzled on its spit, and the turnips had been buried into the earth by the edge of the campfire, baking away.

"I'm not making poison," you swore as the Hound's eyes fell on you, steeping birch leaves into the water, "it's good for you."

"A cunning woman now too?" he asked.

"It's just what I've been told, I've drunken it myself so I know it won't kill us. If you don't want to try it then there's just more wine for you to drink."

The Hound returned to sharpening his sword, running the whetstone along the blade, and when satisfied he took to his dagger.

"It's good you caught the rabbit," you said after a while.

"Leave it be."

His voice didn't sound any different, no more angry or tired than before, yet that distant gaze returned. There wasn't even any anger in his face, the scowl was there, but it was a fixture. Hollow.

"We'll figure out a plan," you tried. "I'd rather stay here in Westeros, it's not like I'd be comfertable in a land were there's slaves, regardless if I'm one of them or not."

Rising, you stepped into his view but his eyes didn't catch you. "Clegane?"

The wind made the tops of birchtrees sway, the leaves rustling and wood snapping.

Snapping?

Your gaze left the Hound, peering out amongst the trees. He had been correct, being so scrutinous of the pick of campsite. There were no shrubs, no trees thick enough for them to hide.

One after the other they appeared, eight in all. Their faces gaunt and hunger had made their clothes hang loose to their bodies. 

"Clegane," you breathed but the man did not rise, he didn't as much as peer back.

Their eyes, while everything else seemed to have wilted away, what rested within the eyes of those men made every fiber within your being scream out, plead for you to run.

You were nothing more than a lamb that had wandered into a den of lions. Hadn't Clegane heard you? But he always heard you? Why couldn't he hear you?! You opened your mouth to speak, mouthing his name, yet no sound came. Steel gleamed in their hands.

"Sandor?"

A flicker of relief, he must have heard you but when your eyes darted down the Hound sat unmoving. Was this a nightmare? The dark eyes were so distant, like he was stuck somewhere far away.

They'd kill you.

They'd kill him.

You saw everything else in those eyes of theirs too, how slow your death would be. You were more than a threat. A treat. A plaything— until they'd grow bored of you.

"Dog!" the scream rang through the forest.

You stepped back as Clegane shot to his feet, breath catching in your throat as he spun around. The sword was already drawn, and the Hound's helm that had rested beside him quickly came over his head.

"Stranger. Now."

"Leaving?" one of them spun, the blond hair matted into thick clumps. "You be clad in plenty of steel."

"And that told you this was a good idea?" the Hound snorted.

"More of us than you," another spat, an ax ready in his hand.

"Who you serving?" the first man asked. "Lions?"

"Not anymore," Clegane replied, backing up until his hand caught your arm, squeezing. "Stranger. Untie him."

"A broken brother!" the first man laughed and held out his arms, but the sword was no less sharp in his grip. "Do not fret, we ain't here to judge kin! You look strong enough, why not join us? We see to our share of fun and keep each other's backs far better than some lordling twat. That's a good sword."

Silent you turned around, the stallion stood by one of the birch trees already pulling at the reigns that bound it but as you took a step towards it, a third man darted into the path. A gapped grin flashing on his face, the cheeks scarred by pox.

"You cooked that, love?" he asked, nodding to the rabbit beginning to charr by the fire, but you couldn't will yourself to answer. "Cooks and keeps her mouth shut, her cunt tight too?"

"We share in our little brotherhood. Fairness and all that," the first man said.

"I don't," the Hound replied.

"Manners," the man sighed and nodded back, the youngest among them stood with his bow knocked and drawn. "The boy's rather good with that one, been feathering birds all his life. Not so different from feathering men, ain't it so, Tip?"

"Aye," the boy Tip replied.

"I like your helm," the first man continued.

"Do I look like a fucking merchant?" the Hound growled.

"Looks like a dead man to me," another called out.

A stillness laid itself over the meadow. You didn't see what started it, but in a blink of an eye, everything happened all at once. A clang. From your right, a shadow dove in, and the man that had stood before you with his gapped grin disappeared behind the Hound. A spray of crimson shot through the air as Clegane thwarted his sword. A howl. You spun only for the shadow of the Hound to leap from your back again. The next death you saw fully, Clegane cut off the first man's hand, and the sword hit the ground with a thud, the fingers still curled around its hilt. The wail was cut short as the dagger buried into the man's eye. You watched as steel met steel until it hit the softness of flesh, sending up blades of crimson. The Hound was fighting four at once, or rather, he took great care not to. Never staying long enough in one place, his sword veining through the air, but it wasn't a desperate flailing. An arrow buried itself into his shoulder, but Clegane didn't even seem to notice. Cursing, the boy knocked his bow once more. Four became three, three became two, two became-

Four.

You began to twist, to search for the fifth, but a warmth hit your back. You opened your mouth to scream, but fingers clawed at the back of your head. The blade pressing against your throat.

"Shut your mouth," a stranger's voice hissed.

The boy no longer stood with his bow, aiming at the Hound. Taking flight amongst the birch trees. Clegane ripped the ax from the hand of one of the dead and you looked on with the last survivor of the brotherhood as it veined through the air. The boy's shriek made the dagger press even harder at your throat.

"Enough!" the roar made your ears ring.

The Hound's chest heaved, blood clinging to his brigandine. You had seen anger in his eyes before, but never like this, a wildness, a bloodthirst that could make anyone shrink

"Should have run," the Hound rasped.

"Like him? Drop your sword," the stranger said, the boy still wailing, crying for the aid of gods and his mother. "You deaf? Want the bitch to live then drop that fucking sword!"

It slipped out of his hand, and without the stranger having to make any demand the dagger followed.

"So you're not deaf. Now get on that horse of yours. If you ride hard and long enough, I might just leave her here alive."

He wouldn't. Perhaps he'd not take his time with you like his brethren, but there was no mercy in that voice, in the blade that pressed against your throat. So this was it, how you died. Dog. The last word you ever spoke to him, what you had heard echoing through the Red Keep as the King had yelled for his Hound to come. A title, only spoken in contempt or ridicule, was your final word. Not. like. this.

The pain burned bright in your hands. You couldn't see your murderer's face, just his arms, free from steel and wool. He wrung around you, cursing and roaring. The taste of metal filled your mouth. The next had no pain, just a warmth seeping down your throat. The Hound lunged, bodies clashing, and you flew to the side. One hand catching grass and the other, the still twitching leg of a dead man. Away. You just needed to get away.

The fingers trembled, red and slick. Your hands, your blood. Deep gashes ran along your palms. It couldn't have taken that long, you didn't stare at the bloody hands for an eternity before your fingertips brushed over your neck. Whimpering as the pain shot out and without thought, you pressed against your throat.

"Clegane?" your voice weak, frail, but behind you could hear grunts, a heavy thud that grew wetter and wetter, and the cracking of bone.

The world had begun to spin and the boy's cries, you could hear them again, "Mother, help me! Please, help me! MOTHER!"

Why? You would have given them food if they were hungry. It wasn't fair.

Tipping onto your side, Clegane straddled the man, his fingers had dug into the man's face and each time he brought the head up you could see the back, its shape long gone.

"Clegane?"

Another thud, another wet crack.

"MOTHER! MOTHER!"

"Sandor?" it left you nothing more than a pipe.

There they were, those dark eyes of his, a fury like no other gone in an instant, and the next, Clegane's hands were on you. Pressing at your throat.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you whispered, tears blurring your view. "I didn't mean to."

Cursing under his breath, Clegane ripped up the scarf underneath his bevor and pushed it into the hand pressing at your throat. How much time, how many words would the gods give you to make this right?

"He's dead. It's done."

"I would never have called you that. Never. But you were... it was like you couldn't hear me, I'd never... I'm sorry, please forgive me."

His brow furrowed before his free arm slipped in by your legs and the ground left beneath you. Carrying you to Stranger's saddle.

"The food," you said.

It was a ruin, the rabbit had fallen into the fire, and the kettle kicked over.

"Fuck the food," he snapped and steadied you on Stranger's back, taking your hand to where he pressed. "Keep that there. Press it down. Hard."

You offered no protest as Clegane turned around. The sword and dagger returned to his hands. The Hound ran between the trees, and the boy's cries finally stopped before he appeared again.

Worry writ across his face. It looked too close to sorrow.

"I'm sorry I called you that. I never thought of you like...," you said as he swung up in the saddle. "I'm sorry, Clegane."

"You're not going to die, so save your pardons for some other day," he replied but if that was a promise or a command, you couldn't tell.

A lone candle lit up the small chamber, the heavy scent of incense tickling your nose and the bed soft beneath you.

"Let's see if you can't lift that for me, love," the innkeeper hummed and tapped on your hand, still pressing the bloodsoaked scarf against your throat.

Reluctantly you obeyed.

"Aren't you lucky, any deeper and you'd be a goner," she said, "if you've not bled out yet, you'll not do it now."

Her hands cradled yours, sucking at her teeth. "These will give you more trouble, but better that."

Behind the woman, the Hound sat on a chest by the door, his gaze burning her back.

"The only issue will be if it festers, but I'll see if we can't make that less likely."

"No burning," the Hound's voice tensed.

"I treat my girls with honey," she replied, pulling out a jar from one of the pockets of her apron.

You bit your lip as she began to dab it along the wound of your neck before turning her attention to your hands. The innkeeper humming as she worked.

"Seeing as you said this was work of some broken men, you two can have the room for free for tonight," the woman peered back at Clegane, her hand closing at your wrist as if he was to pull her away, "and I know who you are. We're not busy tonight, no one here to bother you, but lions like to prowl here. I won't lie when they come, so the two of you best leave early. Have I made myself understood?"

Clegane only offered a nod. Rising, she brushed her hands off the apron and gave you another warm smile before handing you the jar of honey. "You should reapply it but keep some linen over the wounds, not so much that it cannot breathe but enough so you're not pestered by flies."

"Thank you," you said.

"I hope you safely reach your family in Highgarden," the woman replied and slipped out.

"It is kind of them to let us stay for free," you said as Clegane locked the door.

He stayed by it, his hand gripping the handle. It fumed out of him, filling up the room.

"You're angry," you noted, an ache forming in your chest. "I should never have called you that."

Clegane snorted, and the bed creaked as he sat by its end, peering back over his shoulder.

"Think that's what troubles me?" His gaze stayed on you, wandering down to the hands laying at your sides. "Good work I've done, keeping you safe."

"I'm alive."

"Barely," Clegane replied and looked ahead, starting to unbuckle his pauldrons. 

The brigandine slid off his body and the mail followed until he only sat in his undertunic. There was no red stain where the arrow had hit, the layers of steel had kept it from his body.

"Eight, you faced eight men alone and lived. How many can attest to such a thing?" you tried.

"There's no glory in killing rats. They had no armor and barely enough strength to swing their blades," he said and rose, pulling the cloak over his shoulder. "Go to sleep."

"Where are you going?"

"Seeing if killing broken men gets me wine," he muttered and the door slammed shut behind him.

You shuffled to the side of the bed, wincing as you pulled yourself up to sit, pain throbbing in your neck. The blood still clinging to your dress had begun to brown, and your fingertips traced the stains that ran down your breast.

Waiting, you came to know the small bedchamber well. The pattern of the bubbles that speckled the glass of the lone window, the scratches that ran along the wooden floor where furniture had been dragged and rearranged over the years. You wanted to be excited. The sole bed would only mean one thing, but what did it matter to lay beside him if he did not want you? If it wasn't your comfort he sought? The hurt of such a truth would have been easier another night, but the broken men's eyes hadn't gone. It didn't matter that they lay cold, gazing blankly at the night sky. Fear can't be waved away like some fly. It burrowed deep. If he could touch you, claim you. If you could be the one to allow it, for it not to be taken. The candle by the windowsill had all but burnt away when the door creaked open.

Clegane's voice was thick and drink had left it even more grating than usual, "Told you to sleep."

"I couldn't."

"Hard thing when sitting up," he replied dryly.

The floorboards creaked under his heavy footstep and you looked up, meeting his gaze, drunk and sullen.

"You did good," you said. "We're alive, surely that is what matters."

You smiled. Offered what the man had told you was the reason he had come for you at the Battle of Blackwater but Clegane winced as if you had just put a dagger in his gut.

"You heard the woman, she knows me. Won't be a place in the Seven Kingdoms where I'll go and not have some bugger that heard of me. This?" his hand shot out, but as it closed in on your face it slowed and the finger that traced down along the curve of your neck made your body tingle. "If I failed you a first time, I'll fail you a second time. I'm no fool."

"You did not fail me."

"Did that plenty today, done it for days now," he said and laughed as you frowned. "Not blind, woman. I see your face, how miserable you are."

"It isn't— I'm not miserable."

A small part perhaps, but it was loneliness, bitterness to not be wanted. But you didn't want his touch from desperate pleads or nagging, what sort of love was that?

"There it is," Clegane breathed. He lowered, looming above you. "Don't think I see it in your eyes, woman? Your lies might not be as rotten as the rest of them, but it's lies all the same. What woman wants a man that can't even protect her?"

"You're being cruel," you whispered.

"The fuck I am," Clegane hissed. "I've been plenty patient. Others take me, you think this a cruelty? You're that dumb? It's a kindness."

"You call me dumb and say it kindness?" you replied, a shrillness growing in your voice. "I think I have made it clear what I feel for you, if you do not want me then that is something I must come to terms with, but it is cruel to mock me for it."

As Clegane leaned forward, the pain in your neck made you tip back. Was this another one of his quips? As his hands found themselves on either side of your face, linens twisting as they balled into fists.

"Wanted to keep you safe. Unharmed. You'd never feel pain again. Look where that got me. Wanted you to never weep, and is this not your tears?" His thumb brushed by your cheek, wiping the tear away. "I can kill whoever tries to hurt you, but when you regret me and these are mine and not by some broken men? Can't offer you any comfort then."

"And you call me dim," you whispered. "These tears rest by your feet, Sandor Clegane." The tip of your fingers brushed over his stubbled cheeks, and the corners of your lips tugged. "Only you its comfort."

It was another cruelty, how quickly the man's eyes could change, for them to look down on you so intently. Leaving the rest of you to catch up, heart pounding in your chest, breath hitching.

"You could kiss me... if you like," the last words barely left your lips a sound.

Closing your eyes as Clegane lowered.

The lips you had only dreamed of didn't meet yours, his nose grazed your chin, and as his warm breath hit the nape of your neck, a sigh escaped your lips, "Please?"

Pain kept you bound, from hooking your arms around his neck and pulling up. He was near. The warmth traveled down and the tip of his nose brushed by your collarbone.

"You're being cruel."

A whole other than his first. It had hurt but this was torture, his mouth was so close to the laces of your underdress. If he just caught the string with his mouth and tugged, the dress could be gone. He could see all of you, touch all of you.

You squirmed as he moved up, whimpering.

"Not cruel," the rasp was a low hum in your ear. "Savoring something new."

"Please..."

"Never had a woman plead like this," he continued, and his face nuzzled in by the side of yours, gently as not to strain the wound by your neck.

It didn't matter. Your hips bucked up, but you couldn't reach him, his left hand sliding down and pinning you to the bed.

"Keep still."

Clegane pushed up, the scowl returning to his face as he inspected your throat. It wasn't until he looked at your hands that he sat up. Red splotched the wrappings of your left hand.

"It's nothing, I swear I'm fine," you said but the hands were already sliding in underneath you.

"You need rest."

Leave it to him to even make this a haggle.

"We could be gentle," you tried as he placed you back on the bed, no longer laying on its short end.

"Had too much wine for that and my patience is strained thin as it is," he grunted and walked to where his armor rested.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

Why? It was perfect, he was perfect. His back turned to you, Clegane slid on the mail shirt, and the brigandine returned to his shoulders.

"Where are you going?"

"You need rest," he repeated, "I stay, that won't happen."

Turning to put on his cloak, you saw it, the fabric of his breeches straining. He... he was... you had done that? Clegane came closer, walking around the edge of the bed. Had he changed his mind? But you couldn't look away as he lowered, his breath tickling your neck.

Rasping into your ear, "Hear me now, woman?"

"What?"

The snort made you wince, rearing back your head.

"Pardons, never had my cock make a woman lose her hearing," Clegane said, his voice even thicker than before.

"Did you say somethi-" But the question turned to a whimper as Clegane's teeth caught your ear.

The bite made the tingling inside grow to a throb.

Your hands shot up, trying to latch onto his shoulders but he caught you by the wrists. "Such pretty sounds you make."

Clegane released you, staggering back, a grin spread on his lips. The last of his cups had caught up with him. The wildness, so similar to what had been in his eyes as he had killed the broken men met you.

"I'll taste those lips come morn," he swore and the grin grew wider as you failed to hide your disappointment.

"If this was done it mocking, then you are beyond cruel," you whispered.

"Drunk too much. I'll not have my first kiss forgotten."

With that, he yanked up the pauldrons and walked out, locking the door behind him. Watching from the window, you saw the Hound slink into the stables. The cuts in your hands didn't even allow you to deal with what he left behind. It wasn't until your body had calmed that you recalled his words.

First kiss.

The Hound had never kissed a woman before?

Thanks for reading!

Listen, getting into the emotional iceberg that is Sandor Clegane takes time. If you wish for more spice, I'll gladly provide it. But like culinary spice, text spiciness comes in levels🔥🔥🔥 So, if you have a pitchfork and wish to point it my way? En garde muthafucka!🤺

i can totally picture ser harwin being a softie in bed. reading your fic made my 😼 feel 🦋🦋🦋 😻

warnings: eighteen+ content, unprotected p in v, creampie mention.

etc: but just imagine those nights where he wants to go soft, like yeah he loves being rough with you because he knows you can take it. knows you can’t be broken and love bending at his will in any position. BUT those nights where maybe he’s had a rough day or things just feel like too much and he needs you. needs that slow soft sex to really make him feel better 😩

“Thought about this all day,” he whispers against your skin. His mouth at the shell of your ear, his heavy breaths and low grunts making your skin prick and body push up into his; molding yourself to his front so there’s no room left between the two of you.

His heavy weight against your chest should make it hard for you to breathe, to catch your breath as he bares his weight over you. As he brackets you inside of his arms, keeps you close to him. In place and against his skin, your softness a sheer contrast to the hair and scars from battle he has speckled around his chest.

“Needed this—you.”

It’s almost worse when he’s slow like this, like he is hitting every nerve, every pleasure point. Every part inside of your cunt that has your legs tightening against him, your face pressed to the crook of his neck as you try to keep quiet. Try to muffle the gasps and whimpers.

“Harwin,” you grip at his chest. Maybe it’s a plead, maybe it’s praise for how good he’s making you feel; how much you can’t get enough of him sneaking into your room late at night, needing you. Only you.

He could just as easily go to a pleasure house.

But he comes to you. Needs you to be what’s missing in his days, his life. To give him pleasure on days of misfortune.

He brings his lips onto yours, swallows down your moans as he pants his onto your tongue. Your name mixed somewhere between breaths. A relief released once he finishes inside of you and rests his head upon your chest, your fingers running through his sweaty curls. A calming silence shared between the two of you.