Rhaenyra X Harwin - Tumblr Posts

#Harwin Strong can carry me like a sack of potatoes any day

SER HARWIN STRONG in 1.05 “We Light the Way” | HOUSE OF THE DRAGON (2022-) (insp)

And yet today, you publicly assaulted a Knight of the Kingsguard in the… in the defense of your…

You have your honor and I have mine.

Most of us are not so strong. What is honor compared to a woman’s love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms … or the memory of a brother’s smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.

I'm not unaware that I don't like the age difference between Harwin and Rhaenyra, but now putting him on the same level as characters like Jorah, among others, is going too far. Harwin was not a father figure, Harwin was not her husband, Harwin did not have any relationship with her as a child that we know of, except for events and not even exchanged words. He never did anything and we didn't even see anything that he could have control of Rhaenyra What we truly know is that she courted her at 15 like all of Westeros at her time because she was her heir; and that he was her guard and lover when she was married and of legal age in Westeros at 17. If you want to believe Mushroom's words that he was with her at 16, when he can't even agree on how Rhaenyra spent her wedding night, good for you. If the relationship makes you uncomfortable because Harwin was at least 7 years older than perfect, it makes me uncomfortable too. But it is VERY far from being the worst of the couples in this saga for people to be condemning it now.

Headcanon that Harwin was standing guard outside Rhaenyra’s chambers when she went into labor with Jacaerys. And the second he heard the first screams of pain from childbirth he was busting through door with a look of slight panic and concern, demanding the maesters and midwives do something to help her even though they all repeatedly reassured him that everything happening was normal. So when she was close to her due date for Lucerys, Harwin was sent on patrols around Kings Landing in hopes of keeping him distracted and from causing another scene that made him seem too much like a nervous father instead of a sworn shield.

hmm what about ❝ i was fearless, and now i… i’m just… i’m just afraid. ❞ as rhaenyra talking to harwin post-wedding feast about what happened

The morning after her wedding was not quite what Rhaenyra had thought it might be. Any romantic notions she'd held for marriage had fallen to the wayside years prior, a casualty of the years spent dealing with suitors set before her by her father and his small council. She'd accepted that her wedding would an exciting affair for the court but not a dream of her own fulfilled. But the bloodshed the night before had left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Laenor had spent the night in her chambers, inconsolable at the death of Joffrey. Consummating the marriage didn't even cross her mind, a concern for another day when they both were in better spirits and more willing to do their duties. He'd stayed past dawn, waking only once her handmaidens had come to dress her and bringing breakfast for the newlyweds. By the time he'd excused himself to return to his own chambers, the cloud of melancholy had settled over them both and she'd had no desire to face the world outside her room.

Hours had passed and maids had come and gone, some with requests from her father she'd turned away and others simply doing their jobs without so much as a word. She'd taken advantage of the quiet while she could, trying to reconcile her feelings of what it was like to be entering the next chapter of her life and push back the images of blood pooling on the stone floor the night before.

A heavy knock at her door startled her from her thoughts, the hair on the back of her neck standing up. An anxiousness filled her belly in a way she'd never felt in her own chambers. The last man to be outside the door of her rooms had killed a man in a crowded room the night before for reasons she still wasn't sure of. But she was a Targaryen, the blood of Valyria and descended of warriors like Visenya. She wasn't made to cower in the corner at the idea of a man at her door.

"Come in," she called out, her voice wavering just a touch. The doors opened and she couldn't explain the relief that filled her when she saw it was Ser Harwin Strong who entered, his gold cloak a welcome sight in comparison to the white she'd always seen waiting in the corridor. "Ser Harwin. What - what can I do for you?"

He hadn't stepped further into the room, staying cautiously by the doors as if he wasn't sure what would be best. "The king and my father spoke this morning about what would be best in regards to your personal shield for the time being. I thought you would like to know who'll be standing guard."

A look of surprise crossed her face at the news, piecing together what it meant that he was the one giving her the message. "Oh. I hope this new post doesn't leave you inconvenienced."

"I volunteered for it."

A silence settled over them both at his words, a kind half smile being directed towards her that offered more comfort than any of the platitudes she'd been given the night before had. For the first time since the fighting had broken out, she felt the weight her chest lift away, still present but not as stifling as it had been. Her time spent in Ser Harwin's company had never been long but he'd always been a welcome companion at whatever feast or celebration they'd crossed paths at.

"I don't mean to overstep, princess, but how are you faring after last night?"

The lie was on her lips before she had a second to think it through. "I'm fine. The wedding wasn't quite the ceremony we had all expected but..." She found herself faltering the longer she tried to express her expected happiness and the curious eyes of the goldcloak before her did little to help her maintain appearances. Their eyes met for a moment, violet and green as each watched the others expressions and finally the mask slipped away. "Truthfully... I'm still unsettled after last night. I've never... it's one thing to see the blood on the tourney field. To see them enter a mostly fair fight with the weapons at hand and their armor on. It can be gruesome but it's nothing they hadn't agreed to. But what happened last night - the way that Ser Criston - I don't think I've known such violence before. Not with my own eyes. And it's left me feeling more mouse than dragon. I feel I was fearless before I entered that hall last night and now - now I'm frightened. Frightened of the men I should trust without hesitation."

A scowl had formed on his lips, some of that dark cloud that had lingered over her moving to envelop him as well. The expression left Ser Harwin as an imposing figure in her doorway though she hoped it wouldn't stay. The happier expressions she'd seen him bear were much more suited for him. The hand at his side clenched as he seemed to search for words, fist closing and opening almost without realizing it and she watched carefully, not out of fear but curiosity at what the man would say next.

"What Cole did to Lonmouth, the way he let his promises to you fail in favor of whatever provocation he may have received to set him off, was his failure. And no one would fault you from fearing him - or any man with that sort of power. And I'll do what I can to ensure that whoever my father and the king posts to you permanently won't make you feel that fear again."

There was a determination in his words that made her believe him, a conviction that felt like more than just empty promises being fed to her for her own good. It was a reassurance she was eager to cling to.

"I don't feel that fear with you, Ser Harwin," Rhaenyra told him, her words quiet but still echoing against the stone. They brought him a step further inside, a move he seemed to not even realize he'd made as his hands folded in front of him. "If the city watch could spare you, I'd be grateful to have your company and protection for a while longer."

The half smile returned, a soothing balm to the nerves that still picked at her as he nodded his agreement. "I'm yours, princess. For however long that need be."

And with that said, the heir to Harrenhal took his place at her door and gave her back the first bit of control and comfort she'd lost in the midst of the great hall the night before.

hi! I don't know how you're feeling about writing aus, but maybe "i'll be there" for married rhaewin? 🥺🧡

(Oh I am a ✨slut✨ for AUs so request them as much as you like. For this I did as if Harwin and Rhaenyra had been married from the start, that Lyonel had suggested him as a suitor for the princess.)

"You aren't dressed. Why aren't you dressed?"

Rhaenyra glanced over her shoulder as the handmaiden made quick work of the laces down the back of her dress, pulling the gown she'd intended to wear to the feast off. Standing in the doorway of her bedchamber was her husband, dressed for dinner and looking at her with a frown. His usual armor and gold cloak were gone and replaced with a simple doublet, curls pulled back in a poor attempt to look more presentable. She knew he took little joy in the feasts held at the Red Keep, the ones filled with polite chatter with the lords and ladies visiting King's Landing, many looking for an opportunity to gain favor with the king or queen. And she already knew what his current frustration was.

"I was dressed but then your son decided my gown would be much improved by a smear of mashed peach down the front. And I didn't think it would go unnoticed if I went down to the feast with a stained gown." The cold air coming in through the windows left her arms covered in gooseflesh as she stood there in her shift, waiting for the clean gown to be brought out.

His frown softened a bit as he stepped further into the room, crossing to where she stood to press a kiss to the top of her head. "Funny how he's my son whenever he's misbehaving but ours when he's acting like a perfect prince."

"Funny indeed," she replied, smiling up at him and leaning up for a proper kiss before the maids began pulling at her to dress again. "Go on ahead, I won't be much longer. I'm sure your father is already waiting there."

He shook his head, taking a seat on the lounge near the windows. He made himself comfortable, stretching out his legs and watched her with the same affection she'd seen in his eyes since they'd first been betrothed years ago. "Not a chance," he told her, huffing as a curl fell loose and into his eyes. "The last time you sent me down before you I was left listening to Beesbury drone on and on about the coffers and our business dealings with the Iron Bank. I'd rather try and mount Syrax by myself than go down to that feast alone."

Her laughter echoed through the room and she could even catch an amused look on the young maid who was fixing the sleeves of her new dress. "Harwin, honestly, you will manage just fine on your own. I'll be there soon enough. Promise."

"Promise all you like, princess. I'm not walking into that hall without my wife at my side. So the lords and ladies will just have to wait. Now hurry up or I'll send away the maids and convince you to try changing the gown again, just the two of us."

More laughter, more smiles, and forty-five minutes later they were finally making their way down to the feast with matching grins and promises to sneak away from dinner as soon as they could manage.

told you i was coming back for more! 🧡 "i need you here" for the married rhaewin verse, if you're feeling like it? 🥺🥺🥺

(tw: mentions of pregnancy and fears about childbirth, references to miscarriages and the struggles Aemma had, this takes place when Rhaenyra is pregnant with Jace)

The feel of cold sheets under his arm was enough to pull Harwin from sleep, his hand searching the other half of the bed for his wife. He pushed himself up when he realized the bed was empty. Not for the first time in recent nights, Rhaenyra was pacing the room, her movements slowing the further along in her pregnancy she got. The maester was certain it wouldn't be much longer before the babe was born and the closer she got to the birth the more restless she'd become. For the most part, he took it all in stride, doing what he could to reassure her and comfort her. But his knowledge failed him at times, particularly at these moments when his mind was still clouded with sleep and her emotions were particularly frazzled.

"I think if you keep that up much longer, you might leave a pattern on the stone from where you've walked," he mumbled, pushing his hair back as he moved to stand. The look she gave made it clear she wasn't amused by him or his jokes, just continuing with her pacing. "You need your rest, love. And since you won't rest during the days, night seems to be the best time to get that rest."

"I can't rest. Every time I lay down I'm reminded of the child growing in me. I feel like I'm bigger than Vhagar my stomach has grown so large. And any time I stay put for longer than five minutes some lady from court whether she's met me before or not will offer me horrid advice about giving birth and raising the child and it makes me want to scream. And when I am finally left alone and finally comfortable enough to sit or lay down for any amount of time all I can think of is...is my mother. Of what she went through."

Any quip he had vanished at the words, the quiet whisper of fear that he'd never heard her admit before. There was an ache in his chest when he finally spotted it, the look of fear in her eyes that he'd been blind to before. And without another moment's hesitation, he'd stood from the bed and crossed the room to her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

She stayed tense for a moment before giving in, letting herself lean fully into him. It was muffled but he could still hear as she mumbled against his chest, "You've been busy with your men and I didn't - I don't like you thinking me weak. The blood of Aegon the Conqueror shouldn't be frightened by the birthing bed."

"Rhaenyra," he started, hands cupping her face and tilting it up so he could see her better. "I'd never think you weak. Never. And I'm sure Aegon the Conqueror would've feared the birthing bed as well if he'd been the one in it instead of his wives."

The faintest hint of a smile broke through her somber expression and he clung to it as best he could, pressing his forehead to hers and reaching down to let his hand rest on the swell of her belly. Her next words were whispered, almost as if she said them any louder they'd be overheard. "For years I watched my mother suffer through miscarriages and stillbirths. At least six children lost that I know of and her mother before died in the birthing bed as well. All I can see when I close my eyes blood soaked sheets and a tiny bundle on a funeral pyre and it leaves me filled with this dread that I just - I can't make go away. I've tried but no matter what this fear has wormed its way in me and will not let go."

They stood there together, minutes passing as he held her and tried to think of what to say. Any reassurances seemed useless. He hadn't known her mother but he'd heard her speak of what had happened that led to her death. And he remembered his father's second wife dying after a day and a half of labor, leaving behind his father with a new daughter to raise alongside him and Larys, alone once more. He'd be lying if he claimed there hadn't been a hint of worry in the back of his mind that something might go wrong. But none of that mattered now.

"I won't make you promises that everything will be perfect," he told her, breaking the silence they'd been sharing. "We've never lied to one another and I won't start that now. We both know childbirth can be as bloody as a battle. But you have to know that there's nothing I wouldn't do to keep you safe. I need you here with me the way I need air in my lungs. And I'd fight the Stranger himself if he tried to take you from me before we've had a lifetime together."

Her smile was watery but a bit of the fear he'd seen in those violet eyes had receded and he was quick to press a loving kiss to her lips. It was chaste, affectionate but simple before she pulled away to look up at him. "You truly are the best of men, Harwin."

He smiled in return, his hands finding her and slowly leading her back to their bed in hopes of getting her some much needed sleep while she could.

the prince and his lady

( or, the mechanics of the westeros court meets the youngest son of crown prince baelon targaryen and his sister-wife alyssa targayren. ) 

main pairing(s): laena velaryon x male! targaryen! oc, alicent hightower x viserys i targaryen, eventual!rhaenyra targaryen x harwin strong, rhaenys targaryen x corlys velaryon.  past! alicent hightower x male! targaryen! oc, past! unrequited! rhaenyra targaryen x alicent hightower.  

warnings: major canon divergent from house of the dragon/dance of the dragons, angst, hotd / dotd themes, lbgtq+ characters/interactions, otto hightower and his schemes. this is going to be a series on tumblr and ao3, which will be linked later.

note: hi! it's been a while since i posted and i wanted to let ya'll know that i am indeed okay and doing well. moving onto the fic -- there are time skips from days to weeks to months and variations of titles for nobility / knights. i, in no way, own hotd, dotd or any characters from the series. all rights go to the creators and grrm. i only own my oc, rhaenor.

wc: 4.7k

rhaenor i

“do you think I'm a fool, miss alicent?” 

the woman turned her back to the king’s chambers as her eyes widened at the sight of the youngest son of baelon and alyssa. his guard three paces behind him is silent, armor shining in the flickering light. her jaw slackens minutely before she speaks. 

“m.. my prince?” 

he smiles scornfully. His ire in the faux confusion — the knowing glint — in those hazel eyes of the hightower forced him to push forward. “your father, hand of the king, dishonors the royal family and myself. he has dissolved our betrothal, fully, in the eyes of the small council and myself days ago. i solidified my hand to you before queen aemma’s death but now, all know he desires to place you as queen consort to my brother. and now, I find you before my brother’s chambers at the hour of the eel. tell me, is it not enough for the ser otto to have his only daughter be a princess?” 

alicent swallows the lump in her throat. she curtsies deeply, head bowed. the crackle of the torches fills the silence. after a pause, the tower speaks to the dragon prince. “my prince.. I do not mean to offend you. i was only offering the king a kind hand—”

the male scoffs, interrupting the woman of seven and ten summers. “offering a kind hand? Why, i dare say we have two differing ideas of that, miss alicent. leave. tell ser otto that his schemes are not to be continued. my brother, king viserys, is mourning, as is my niece, the princess. she is your princess and you, her handmaiden. have you ever thought to visit my dear niece and comfort her?” 

he dismisses the lady, ignoring the hurt in her expression as he walks past her into his brother’s chambers. the lady blinks away the tears that gather in her eyes.  the guard that stood behind the prince takes watch by the door as she gathers her skirts and hurries off, ever so silent. the man of nine and ten summer’s words echo in her mind and she can’t help but feel apprehensive of what her father might do.  

rhaenyra i

the small council gathers at the hour of the wolf. all members, from the lord of the ships to his daughter, sat before the king, whose face was pallid and wan. “my lords and… i plan to marry the lady alicent hightower, before the spring ends of the next year.” 

chaos broke out. lord corlys valeryon was among those who clamored the loudest. “what of my daughter, lady laena? she, velaryon and targaryen, is of valyrian blood, the greatest blood of the realm! and what of the prince, rhaenor? is the lady hightower not betrothed to he, your younger brother?” 

the eldest targaryen male’s jaw clenched, as his gaze broke into the distance. “the ser otto broke off the betrothal himself weeks ago…” 

violet eyes well with tears, never wavering from brown eyes which seem to gaze at her in apology. she sneers, the expression twisting her lovely features. she tore her gaze from the scene in front of her as her emotions gathered in her lungs. rhaenyra storms out without another word, ignoring the protests from her father and the lady. the noises from the room made her head throb and her heart ache even more. she needed to find her uncle but she was told yesterday that he would be with the city watch’s commander, lord harwin strong, at least after dawn. the last words she heard as she left came from lord corlys once more. 

“house velaryon demands payment! the rejection of my daughter for a daughter of a second son who bears no land is no match for a sea dragon daughter—”

her uncle — the one formerly betrothed to lady alicent hightower — was where she thought he would be, soaring on the saddle of his mount, gaelithox, high in the sky. the dragon stood out from the blue sky with his coal black scales and the plumes of green fire with each faint command of “dracarys!” from her uncle’s mouth. 

she stood in the dragon pit near her golden lady, idly petting syrax as he dismounts. the older dragon huffs slightly at the sight of them, the smell of dragon putting her at ease. “calm, my boy. calm. it’s only my niece and her lady.” haunting light purple, pale against the midday sun, seem full of sorrow as they gaze upon her. “my dear nyra..” 

her lips tremble at his soft tone and she launches herself at him, the tears she tried to hold back spilling. arms wrap around her as he strokes his niece’s silvery blonde hair. 

“uncle! alicent — she, oh, it’s awful, uncle!” 

“i know, my heart, i know.” 

otto i

the whispers of how he overreached in alicent’s betrothal to the third targaryen prince irked otto hightower. she would be fit for a landed knight or a second son of a low ranking name. the lord hand oft shows his greed once more with the poor betrothal of the prince rhaenor and the lowly lady alicent. the hightowers wish to have their blood woven into the royal blood after the failure of queen ceryse hightower. the position of the lord hand isn’t enough for the arrogant second son, how should the true lord of oldtown feel when he has a daughter for the lovely prince? the hightower hand is sworn to the realm, is he not? the lord hand is selfish indeed…

the murmurs on how king viserys had broken the betrothal of his youngest brother and the lowly handmaiden of his daughter weeks before the queen aemma’s death had come back to life with others as alicent’s courtship with the mourning king came to light. from the north to the south, the whispers rose and plagued the clean hightower name. 

whore. some whispered. she won’t bleed on the marriage bed. a plague upon the house targaryen since the good king jaehaerys, set upon them by the lord hand. she seduced the king days after the funeral of the good queen aemma while betrothed to prince rhaenor. she tended to the king jaehaerys, once good queen alyssanne had left — she must prefer older men. myhaps that’s why the queen left, the young hightower flaunting the king’s favor over the poor queen who mourned her children. mayhaps that is why the betrothal between prince rhaenor and her truly fell through. is she a maiden or a harlot? devout hightowers? don’t make me laugh. they shall be sent to the seven hells to repent for the overreaching and for the lies. she must have a babe in the womb, why else would the king rush for a wedding? not even the full mourning period after queen aemma’s funeral did the hightower whore show her cards to the court, her poor betrothed and the princess included. did she not seduce the prince daemon in the years past? yes, the rumors of her giving her maidenhead to the rogue prince now holds some credence, if she did not bed the ailing good king…

his daughter was to be queen! damn them who spit on the future queen of the seven kingdoms, the mother of the king after viserys i targaryen. there shall not be a more incestborn spawn on the iron throne, not on otto’s watch. he was a devout man and would not allow the targaryen blood sit on the throne no longer, not without his own blood to purify the generations of disgusting inbreeding and rot that fester in their souls. 

but, he discovers, that shall not be easy. 

the third son had broken his fast with viserys and he had whispered of wounds gifted by his elder brother, not just to him but to the princess rhaenyra as well. the king did not protest on the overstepping, although it miffed otto in his stead, who was made to witness the brothers converse over the gaudy model of a far gone city. while the third son of baelon might have been a better option for alicent, otto ponders while watching the two, he was only second in line to the throne after the second coming of maegor the cruel. if viserys were to pass now, daemon, who may finally have the throne he longed for, would convince his brother to marry far, far from the red keep or have him slain by the white wyrm or hired help, leaving his wife alone and vulnerable, along with any heirs he may hold. no, otto decides, viserys was the best choice.

the master of the ship had loudly protested the match with alicent, his disgust of otto barely leashed. the proposed match of king viserys and laena velaryon made him scoff. no matter what the velaryon lord thought — first son he may be but the daughter he offered was only five and ten, only two years older than when viserys had bedded aemma, a child compared to his now eight and ten daughter, a woman flowered. otto would admit, in his mind, that the proposed velaryon match would’ve made the royal coffers richer and more support for the targaryen dynasty, but his plans were for the seven, not the thrice damned dragonriders.

the queen who never was, the targaryen cloaked in velaryon blue, had requested private meetings with the king for days after the wedding announcement and the two would come out hours later. the stilted haughty look on her face made otto suspicious of her intent but the king remained silent, even when otto pushed for prince rhaenor to start courting lady cassandra, the eldest of the baratheon four storms. otto had wanted to know what the two converse over, but he was thwarted in learning so as well. 

moons later, he realized why. 

rhaenys i 

when the king of the seven kingdoms summoned all the liege lords, and those sworn under them, to the red keep in four months’ time, questions were raised. the lord hand was worried, rhaenys could tell and she relished it. the conniving man who whispered to her grandfather, king jaehaerys, to summon the great council of harrenhal which snubbed her of her right to the throne and the man who seeked to supplant his andal blood on the throne of which her valyrian ancestors killed for disgusted her. his desire for power was easy for anyone to see, all but viserys, she supposed. 

she suspected that the breaking of her younger cousin’s betrothal for the young alicent’s hand was a maneuver from his lord hand. viserys, whom had oft held rhaenor as he struggled to follow the three elder targaryen children, would not have done such a move which would hurt him, not on purpose. that was not who he was at the core. viserys was a merry man who adored his family and the decadence of life, the feasts and tourneys he loves . however, he was too blinded by the poison in the red keep. 

viserys had written to her, admitting he dreams of a boy, so familiar with plum colored eyes, curling silver hair touched by the setting sun, of the boy in jaehaerys’ crown, many times to her as they reconciled. the dream he spoke of had her believing that viserys was touched by the fourteen flames, a dragon dreamer, just like aegon, daenys and other dragon dreamers before her. a faint memory of her father speaking to her, as the heir of the heir, of aegon’s dream had made her write back to her kingly cousin despite her husband’s grievances, despite the insults dealt to her and her kin. 

westeros has waited for the announcement of his heir for months now since aemma and baelon’s death. viserys would marry the tower, but who’s to say the girl could birth sons? the kingdoms could wait, and it shall wait even more if the king bids. 

there was only a brief pause in conversation before she pushed her idea out. 

“make rhaenor your heir to the throne.” 

 the idea made her bitter, the idea of stealing a young girl’s right to the throne an echo of the treatment she herself faced decades ago. but after days of watching rhaenor and rhaenyra, she knew what was to be done for the realm. rhaenor, the man he was and the man he has become, would be better suited for the heirship than a brokenhearted girl of five and ten summers. the young girl was still reeling from the betrayal from her once leal handmaiden and had taken to staying as far away from her as she could, and subsequently, the court. she could be taught how to handle her emotions and the way of the court but rhaenys knew first hand that the men in the realm would rather burn down the red keep itself than having a woman on the throne. the elder male had taken up more duty from viserys and his niece, meeting with the lords and common folk after the court had heard issues with the allowance of viserys. however, lady jeyne arryn needed an heir for the eyrie and the princess had arryn blood... 

the pause given by viserys emboldened her, for the man who loves his family warred with the man with the crown. 

“my king, prince baelon was the heir before you and the good king jaehaerys named his line to the throne. you have no heir but daemon, rhaenor and rhaenyra. what occurred between you and him is not of concern to me but you fear that daemon covets the throne. rhaenyra is your daughter, yes, but she is still a girl of five and ten summers. a girl whom you love and wish to keep happy. a young girl who could be led astray by those who wish for power in marriage to her. rhaenor is a man who knows of the pull of power, the way of the court. he is known to the common folk and he knows the way of politics. he shall marry someone to strengthen the crown and have the backing of the valyrian houses.” 

viserys pauses at the last sentence, his hands folded together. 

“cousin rhaenys… this idea you brought forth is one i shall consider as my marriage to lady alicent may bear potential fruit.” 

she twitched, the reminder making her stomach curl. she sighs lightly, before she spoke the thoughts of many, including herself. 

“viserys - cousin. the courtship with the young hightower has brought scorn from all across the seven kingdoms, most of all from the vale and the reach. the arryns are not content with their kin’s successor, a lowborn noble woman who allegedly crept into your bed while aemma was alive and while she was laid to rest for balerion’s realm. nor were they keen on the role she played as rhaenyra’s handmaiden, as they suspect her former role was used to get close to the royal family, as well as her role as jaehaerys’ caretaker. this betrayal of rhaenyra had played out in front of the court, in front of their blood and their sworn lords, adding onto the distrust. the royces are enraged with daemon’s disrespect of the late rhea along with runestone and the reach is furious with the hightower power growing and overstepping their boundaries. ser otto has made changes to the laws and blocked his lord paramount from keeping power in his family. i fear that if the potential fruit you speak of shall be met with protest, if not discontent and war, if he were to take the throne.” 

a noise of protest left his throat. 

“my king, please, i speak the truth to you. the lord hand may speak otherwise, that the vale is content with the match, the tyrells spread rumors, and that i scheme to place my daughter through rhaenor onto the throne in lieu of me but it is he who benefits from this, his blood upon the throne and more power for oldtown, home of the seven, who have prosecuted us more than trusted us, something ceryse had not accomplished.” 

the mention of maegor’s barren tower queen raised a brow from viserys before he nodded contemplatively. “very well, princess rhaenys, i shall consider what you speak of.” 

understanding what wasn’t said, she dipped her head and the two spoke of the past. 

viserys i

when he pulled rhaenor aside one evening with cousin rhaenys into his room, the indifferent look in rhaenor’s eyes raised hair on the back of his neck. when neither of them spoke, his youngest brother broke the silence. 

“king viserys, cousin rhaenys, what did you need me for? if this is of the rumors of lady hightower and i, king viserys, the fault does not lie with me.” wincing at the formal tone rhaenor carried when he addressed viserys, he hesitated before rhaenys took over. “dear rhaenor, the king has decided that you shall be the heir to the throne. while he is to be married once more, the children of his marriage shall be styled as prince and princess of the realm. princess rhaenyra has agreed with the choice as she is to leave for the eyrie in two years time as lady jeyne’s successor.” 

shock marred rhaenor’s face before his mouth twists. his silver gold hair shone in the moonlight, something that made rhaenys’ face twist in nostalgia. 

“viserys…” the soft call of his name made him step forward and clasp his shoulder. “what of daemon, my older brother? and rhaenyra, your daughter?”

“rhaenor. daemon was a viable option but what he spoke of when my aemma and baelon passed, his rocky marriage to rhea royce and him running amok across the realm would have westeros in fear. while i was lost in mourning of my aemma and baelon, you took over some of the burden of the throne from me when you didn’t have to. when—when otto broke the betrothal, i allowed it while in my cups—rhaenor, that you have taken on burdens heirs have. father had done so with his father, i with our own, and it is your turn. i shall help you with the burden of heirship.” daemon is a man who would rule with an intensity that the kingdom does not need nor ready for. went unsaid by viserys, prevented by the slight shine in rhaenor’s eyes. he didn’t wish to speak to rhaenyra of what he had planned for her, not yet. 

rhaenys steps closer, eyes fixed on rhaenor, the intensity of the gaze spooking viserys. she seems to tower over the two brothers, although it may seem so by the steps she was on. “if you agree, then my daughter, lady laena, shall be your betrothal. she shall come to court in a month before the king announces his heir of the throne, with all the liege lords, and after your betrothal is announced, she shall select her own ladies in waiting. the two of you shall wed a week after she turns seven and ten, my prince.” 

rhaenor blinked once, before the reply takes away viserys’ breath. 

“i see, princess, my king. i shall need time to think over this.” 

laena i 

her old girl was happy to return to her home, laena knew, as the red dragon trilled out lowly above her and her father. on the sea snake, king’s landing seems to loom over the bay. it had been six years since vhagar had been claimed by her, after the death of the spring prince, her great uncle baelon. laena was excited to see the red keep without the burden of attempting to court the king, and to meet her betrothed, prince rhaenor. directing her girl at the dragon pit, she steps into the carriage with four gold cloaks while her father rode on a golden stallion. she surveyed the people, watching them bustle about their day, mulling over her thoughts as she came into the red keep. 

her mother has spoken about her younger cousins fondly more times that she could remember, a melancholy that seems to dim her eyes as she spoke about daemon and caraxes, rhaenor and how kind the boy was. she would speak of her eldest cousin rarely, a flicker of hurt before a blank look entered her eyes and the conversation would tail off.  it seemed that time had changed her mother’s relationship with king viserys, something that laena had doubted since her courtship with the king fell through and the chasm between the two cousins widened even more. 

her family, dressed in velaryon and targaryen colors, welcomed her at the enterance. her mother touching her face gently as her father places a hand on laenor’s shoulder, who was grinning broadly. her uncle vaemond was there with his wife and her cousins, watching the reunion with pride in their air. 

entering the red keep, she saw tapestries of the targaryen symbols and colors hanging from the walls, servants in red and white stalking the halls. white cloaks posted at the entrance of the great hall, eyes never moving from their fixed point. as they stepped towards the open doors, the heralder proclaimed their arrival. 

“the princess rhaenys of house targaryen and velaryon, the lord coryls velaryon, lord of the tides and master of driftmark, the heir of driftmark lord laenor velaryon, and the lady laena velaryon.” 

entering the great hall, her family held their heads up high, faces taking in the looks from the crowd as they made their way to the iron throne. 

the princess rhaenyra and prince rhaenor were a step below the king, the hightower hand at his side, and his daughter was seen in the crowd that stood below the iron throne, something that caused a smirk to tilt laena’s lips before she smothers it into a placid smile. the yet to be queen consort’s face briefly oscillated between discomfort and suspicion before settling onto a courteous expression. 

her betrothal’s dark purple eyes peered at her, his expression was polite but blank, hands clasped behind him as she dips into the curtsy with her family before the royals. 

the king smiled down upon them, face open as he bid them to rise with a simple hand raise. 

“princess rhaenys, what a pleasure it is to see your family reunited after the long months.” 

her mother smiles, head tilting. “indeed, my king, it is.”

otto ii

his eyes narrowed down at the sole daughter of aegon, who’s smile seemed to be sharp and directed to him. the velaryons were the last family to come to court for alicent and viserys’ wedding despite the short distance from driftmark, something which irked otto slightly. at least until he remembered who was marrying into the iron throne and whose grandchild would become the king. the arrogance of the valyrian lines will be the death of them, he knows it. otto sneers before he stifles it, returning to the indifferent look.

 the queen who never was will learn her place — the glory of the hightowers will triumph over the targaryen madness that was prominent in the line of alyssa and baelon, especially in the case of daemon, who was still exiled to pentos. the rogue prince was hosted by the pentoshi prince, whoring and drinking, according to otto’s spies. alicent’s pure andal blood will wash away the canker that is the targaryen madness, with her son that shall carry the hightower name into the history books as the hightower king.  

of course, otto would have to take care of his grandson’s ascension to the throne and subsequent ruling years until his death. he didn’t mind, rather it would help emphasis that the hightowers were close, that the blood of the hand trusts him enough to have him even as otto grew old. the beacon shall burn white in peace, green in war. and there shall be war if necessary, otto promised himself that. 

otto waited for the velaryons to be dismissed by viserys before he leaned over to quietly speak. 

“my king?” 

otto was barely given a glance before viserys shook his head. 

“ser otto, i ask that you step down and join the hightowers.” 

silently huffing at the dismissal, otto obeyed before viserys speaks. 

“my dear court, as you all know, my beloved aemma has passed away three months ago. i am to be married to the lady alicent hightower this week, but more importantly, the heir to the iron throne has been long questioned. the position of my heir has been empty, and i hear the concern as more time passes, which is why i hope you are all pleased that i shall announce my heir.” 

the court bursted into murmurs, before silencing after viserys raises his hand, face more stern than otto’s ever seen. pride swells over otto as he could see his brother and his family leer at the second half of viserys’ announcement. this was it. the hightowers shall light the way to a new age for westeroes, starting with king’s landing. the way shall be shown to the nothern savages, with their old gods nonsense, for the dornish and their disgusting ways and the tyrells, who shall know that the true kings of the high gardens are the hightowers. the years leading up to this moment flashed before his eyes; from when otto first received king jaehaerys’ offer to be his hand, when alicent was asked to be his companion, to her appointment of the princess’ handmaiden and the tentative betrothal to prince rhaenor that fell through after the tragic death of aemma arryn and the deformed demon that was torn from her womb, otto and alicent setting up the encounters that brought her to viserys’ chambers to this. 

“the prince rhaenor shall be my heir, who shall marry the lady laena velaryon in the next year after the lady turns seven and ten.” 

rhaenor bows, face serene. otto paused, incredulous as the court erupts once more, voices clambering to be heard. ser westerling called for silence after viserys clears his throat, before otto interrupts the hushed silence. 

“my king! what of any male children alicent shall bear?” 

“ser otto.” viserys shifts uneasily. “any fruit that shall be born from this union shall be only known as prince or princess of the realm, and shall never sit as the ruler of the seven kingdoms, regardless of gender. the crown prince baelon’s blood runs through the princes and i and he was the chosen heir, and then myself. my brother, prince rhaenor, shall continue as my heir, as the heir of the heir of the crown prince baelon’s line until my death. i decree this as the king andals, the rhyonar, and the first men, lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm.” 

otto felt a chill of horror creep down his spine. his schemes were for the naught? no. he refused to let this be the thing that stopped the years of manipulation, of plotting. the second son of the crown prince was typically styled as the heir of the king but otto knew that daemon would rather burn down the red keep that relinquish the powers being the heir held to otto’s grandson. still, there was another option. 

“and what of the princess rhaenrya? is she not the granddaughter of the crown prince baelon? where shall the princess go?” 

otto had seen how the love of a child drove most. king aegon and the princess rhaenys with the weak willed king aenys, the false queen visenya and the cruel king maegor and now, king viserys and his daughter. he could only hope that the king’s love for his daughter triumphed over the love of brothers. after all, otto had ruined the relationship between one pair of brothers. what’s another in the face of his blood inheriting the throne? 

“my daughter, princess rhaenyra, will be the heir to my heir, the prince rhaenor, until the marriage to laena velaryon is consummated and trueblood children are born. even then, the princess shall depart for the eyrie as the lady jeyne’s heiress to the wardeness during the summer months.”

Modern au: When the Storm Breaks

Pairings: Jacaerys Targaryen/Cregan Stark, Rhaenyra Targaryen/Harwin Strong, Rhaenys Targaryen/Corlys Velaryon

Cregan and Jace have been married for a couple years when tragedy strikes. Jace's brother, Luke, is killed in a car accident. From the moment they got the news, Jace barely cries. He buries himself into being strong for his family and planning Luke's funeral. Cregan stays by his side the whole time, trying his best to help. Everyone is worried Jace is carrying too much on his shoulders and that he's going to explode soon. Their fears become reality when Jace has a full-blown mental breakdown at the funeral. Jace's family and his husband rally around him. Afterwards he apologizes for making a scene. Everyone tells him that he has every right to upset and that he doesn't have to be strong all the time.

(cw: character death, graphic language, grief, unhealthy coping mechanisms)

Notes: This takes place in modern day New York. Rhaenyra and Harwin are married. Aegon III and Viserys II are Harwin's sons, but they get their looks from Rhaenyra. All the age gaps are closed in this story. Cregan and Jace are the same age, Rhaenyra and Harwin are only like 3 or 4 years apart. Laena is Rhaenyra's best friend here not Alicent, because I didn't want to touch that situation. Helaena is the only green that makes an appearance because I love her. Laenor and Daemon also aren't mentioned in this story. Do with that what you will.

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Jacaerys Targaryen and Cregan Stark had built a life together that was rooted in love, trust, and mutual support. They met in college, when Jace was getting his MBA and Cregan was getting a bachelor’s degree in architecture. Until then, neither of them had believed in love at first sight, but in that moment, love was the only thing that came to mind. They dated all throughout college, receiving their respective degrees with honors. Jace’s parents, Rhaenyra and Harwin, threw a grand graduation party at their home. However, Jace was the only one unaware that this party was also an engagement party. Once everyone important to them had arrived, Cregan got down on one knee and asked Jace to make him the happiest man in the world. Jace accepted with tears in his eyes. Their wedding was a sight to behold, a perfect blend of extravagance and sentiment. They vowed to be there for each other for every moment of their lives, no matter how painful. After four years of marriage, they had faced their share of challenges, but none had been as shattering as the phone call that came one quiet evening.

Jace was in the kitchen, preparing dinner, while Cregan relaxed on the couch, engrossed in a book. The shrill ring of Jace's phone broke the silence. It was from Baela, Jace's favorite cousin. Jace and Baela were very close, but they hadn’t spoken in a while, feeling they didn’t have much to share with each other. When she called out of nowhere, Jace thought she had something exciting to tell him. 

“Hey Baela, how are you?” He answered cheerfully. 

“Hi Jace.” Baela said, her voice shaking, barely above whisper.

“Is everything okay?” There was silence on the other end. 

Cregan could sense the tension and looked from his book. “Who’s that baby?”

Jace moved the food off the stove and walked over. “It’s Baela,” he whispered. 

“Is that Cregan?” She asked in an abrupt manner.

“Yeah.” Jace said.

“Can you put the phone on speaker, you both need to hear this.”

Jace did as he was asked, placing his phone on the coffee table, “Okay, Baela what going on, you’re kind of scaring me now.” 

Baela took a deep breath before continuing, "Jace, it's about Luke.” 

“What about Luke?” Jace asked, fear washing over him. 

They could hear Baela start to cry on the other end, “There…There’s been….. an accident. I’m so sorry Jace. He's... he's gone."

Jace’s breath hitched. He and his husband sat there frozen, Baela’s soft cries coming from below them. 

“What? What happened?” Jace questioned. The room seemed to close in around them as the reality of the situation sunk in.

“He… he was driving home for a visit when .... a truck sideswiped him. He hit a wall and…. first responders couldn’t get to him in time.” 

Jace could hear Baela talking to them. He could feel his husband grab his hand. But all of that seemed to fade away with the thoughts whirling through his mind. 

"I'm so sorry, Jace," Cregan whispered, his heart aching for his husband.

Jace sat frozen once again, his eyes were unfocused. He didn't cry, didn't scream. He just nodded and took a deep breath. 

"What about my parents? Do they know yet?"

“We’re at their house right now. My mom was with yours when she got the call. They didn’t know how to tell you so I offered to do it. They’re…. heartbroken, but we’re here to help them.”

“Thank you.” Jace muttered.

“That goes for you too, if you need anything, please come to us Jace.”

“Okay. Goodbye Baela.”

“Bye.” 

Crega pulled Jace into a tight hold. “I’m so sorry baby.” He offered. But Jace shifted in his arms, pulling back. He looked as if he were in some sort of trance. 

“I need to get home.” He announced. “My family needs me.” 

The days that followed were a blur of grief and responsibility. From the moment they got the news, Jace seemed to switch into autopilot. He threw himself into planning Luke's funeral, his focus solely on being the pillar of strength his family needed. He promised his parents that they didn’t have to worry about anything while he was there. He coordinated with funeral directors, arranged flowers, and meticulously chose every detail, ensuring that his brother would be honored in the best way possible.

Cregan watched his husband with growing concern. Jace was handling everything with a stoic determination that bordered on obsessiveness. He knew Jace was hurting, but he seemed unwilling or unable to express his grief. Every time Cregan tried to talk to him about it, Jace would deflect, insisting that there was too much to do.

"Jace, honey, you need to slow down and let yourself grieve, let yourself feel something," Cregan urged one evening, gently touching his arm. "It's okay to cry, to be upset."

Jace shook his head, his expression resolute. "I don't have time for that, Cregan. My family needs me." That phrase had become Jace’s mantra over the last week. At night, he would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, while Cregan held him, hoping that the physical closeness would provide some sort of comfort.

Jace's family was just as worried. At first, Rhaenyra was eternally grateful for her son's strength at this terrible time. But she quickly realized what was happening to her son, her whole body flooded with guilt. She and Harwin both expressed their concerns to Cregan privately. "He's carrying too much," Rhaenyra said one evening, her voice thick with worry. "I'm afraid he's going to break."

The day of the funeral arrived, a gray, overcast morning that seemed to mirror the heavy hearts of all who gathered. Jace was impeccably dressed in a black suit, his expression set in a mask of calm control. Cregan stood by his side, offering silent support.

The service was beautiful and heart-wrenching. Friends and family spoke of Luke's kindness, his bright smile, and the joy he brought to their lives. Jace delivered the eulogy with a steady voice, recounting fond memories and expressing the depth of his love for his younger brother. When he finished, sobs and sniffles could be heard throughout the whole church, but Jace’s face still didn’t falter. 

As the service drew to a close, Jace stood by the casket, greeting mourners and accepting their condolences. He was the picture of strength and composure, but Cregan could see the cracks beneath the surface. Each handshake, each hug seemed to chip away at the veneer of control Jace had built around himself.

When everyone proceeded to the burial site, Luke's body was placed over the area where it would be buried and lay forever. As the priest gave final blessing, Jace’s frame stiffened, his breaths shallowed slightly. Cregan was at his side, sensing the shift. He grabbed his husband's hand and started rubbing small circles on his back. He had seen this coming from the beginning. He only hoped now that he could soften the blow, if only a little bit. 

It was during the final moments of the burial, as the casket was lowered into the ground, that the storm finally broke. Jace stared at the graveside, the finality of it all crashing down on him. His breathing quickened even more, and he felt a tightness in his chest that made it hard to breathe.

“No.” Jace shook his head, pleading with every higher power he could think of. “Please, no!” he whimpered, not caring about what people thought about him. The pressure inside him had built up to an unbearable level. "I can't... I can't do this," he gasped, his voice breaking. "He's gone, Cregan! No....please! He can’t be gone!"

The tears finally came then, a torrent of grief and anguish that he had held back for far too long. He lurched forward, falling to the ground, sobs wracking his body. Cregan knelt beside him, wrapping his arms around Jace, holding him as he wailed. 

The mourners looked on with a mix of sympathy and understanding. Rhaenys and Corlys took it upon themselves to start herding the funeral guests toward the reception, knowing the best thing for the family was to be alone with each other right now. Rhaenyra and Harwin rushed to Jace's side, their own tears falling freely as they tried to comfort their son. For the first time since the accident, Jace allowed himself to truly feel the depth of his loss. Jace clung to Cregan, his cries growing softer, his screams turning into broken whispers, “Come back…. Luke I’m sorry…. Please come back.” 

The four of them sat like that for a while. Everyone else had gone, Laena had taken Jace’s other brothers to the reception, giving them time to just worry about Jace. Thirty minutes felt like a lifetime. Jace felt like he had cried away all the tears he had left, a terrible headache was brewing in the back of his skull. He picked up his head and looked around, realizing they were alone. “We should go to the reception now. They’re probably waiting for us.” He groaned, rubbing his burning eyes. 

Rhaenyra cupped her son's face gently, "Jace, you don't have to go. Everyone will understand."

Harwin nodded in agreement, "We're all hurting, son. And you’ve already done so much. If you just want to go home, it’s alright.” 

Jace looked to his husband for the answer. Cregan looked at him lovingly, saying, “I’ll do whatever you want, baby.” 

Jace thought for a moment, “I think we should go.” He decided.

“Are you sure?” Cregan asked.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

The reception was a blur for Jace. He felt exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Many people came to him again, offering even more condolences and asking if he was alright. He assured everyone that he was feeling much better now, but the ache in his heart and the pounding in his head were creeping up on him again. He wondered why he even bothered coming. Just then Helaena came up to him with a gentle smile.  

“Hi Jace.” She spoke softly

“Hi Helaena.” 

She looked at him as if she was trying to speak a language she didn’t know. She quickly gave up on words and held her arms out to him. He took them gratefully. After a full day of words and tears, her silent comfort somehow surpassed it all. Helaena often struggled with words, but in her touch was a power no one else in that room possessed. In that moment, Jace felt all of his pain melt away. For a split second, he felt whole again. He felt the one thing that had been missing since Baela called him that night, hope. They stayed like that for a little while. Jace breathed in her soothing herbal scent, finally feeling a sense of healing take fold. 

“Thank you so much Helaena.”

“For what”

“For being exactly what I need right now.”

Helaena smiled kindly and then left. Eventually everyone cleared out, leaving just the family. As they sat on the couch together, Jace struggled to come to terms with his outburst at the funeral. In hindsight, he felt embarrassed and ashamed for breaking down in front of everyone. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice filled with regret. "I didn't mean to make a scene."

Rhaenyra held him in her arms, her eyes filled with compassion. "Jace, you have nothing to apologize for. You lost your brother, not even a month ago. You have every right to grieve. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I never should have let you take on all that by yourself."

Harwin nodded in agreement. "Neither of us should have, Jace. We're a family, and we should support each other. You don't always have to be strong for everyone."

Cregan held his hand, his voice gentle but firm. "You've been carrying so much, sweetheart. It's time to let others carry some of that weight with you. We're all here for you now." He pressed a feather-light kiss to Jace’s temple. 

Jace looked around at his family, seeing the love and support in their eyes. He realized then that he didn't have to bear his grief alone. He didn't have to be the pillar of strength all the time. It was okay to lean on those who loved him. He felt tears come to his eyes again, but this time he let them flow freely. He grabbed on to his mother’s waist and cried slow, soft tears. Rhaenyra did the same until they both fell asleep in that position, their pain and exhaustion finally ceasing for the time being. 

Harwin and Cregan shared a knowing look before carefully unraveling the two and picking them up bridal style. Harwin couldn’t help but smile as he remembered the last time he held his wife this way. She had gotten too tipsy at a party and passed out in the car on the ride home. They were so young then, before the children, before their lives had truly begun. 

Cregan thought about the last time he held his husband this way. They had just gotten married. Jace was about to open the door to their apartment, when Cregan scooped him up and carried him across the threshold. It was a silly moment filled with laughter and so much love. They were still young, but Cregan knew from the moment they met, that he was going to spend the rest of his time on Earth and then some with the man sleeping in his arms. 

They carried their spouses up the stairs and laid them down on their respective beds. With the softest touch they remove as much of their uncomfortable funeral attire as they could before laying down next to them. They knew in the morning the pain would hit all over again, but for now they enjoyed this moment of peace in the eye of the storm. 

HoTD AU

All three of Rhaenyra and Harwin’s kids have the Targaryen look. How does this affect the story?

the princess' favor 🌹