#brace yourselves lads | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theforgottenmcrmy · 1 year

Text

Strength ~ Part 1/2 (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

᯽ Please note that this is an overall part 10 of the series “Growing Strong”, the masterlist of which can be found HERE ᯽

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, suggestive themes, references to past character death... that’s really it for this one.

Summary: The mood in the air was one of great joy, for the Lord of Harrenhal, and his heirs, had finally returned after an absence of many years.

A/N: Don’t worry you guys, this one is like, 99% tooth-rotting fluff. I was majorly channeling the Targaryen-Family-Dinner vibes for this one. Part 2 (will be posted on Thursday 11/10), is going to have more than its fair share of angst though, so... brace yourselves.🥲

Btw, thank you guys for all the love and feedback. I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but it literally makes my day and makes me feel so humble that you guys have not only been enjoying this story, but feel compelled to let me know. You guys are the bomb.com🖤🖤🖤

“Be good to your mother, lads. We’ll visit when we can… But that may be some time.”

A few days later, you had all gathered in the Princes’ chambers. It was so early, the young boys were not yet dressed for the day. But the Lord Hand had suggested it was best for the traveling party to depart from the capital just before sunrise. Doing so meant less prying eyes, and the near-empty streets would be far easier for the horses and carriage to traverse than later on in the morning or afternoon.

As you stood beside Princess Rhaenyra, rocking Prince Joffrey gently in your arms, you looked over towards your sons sympathetically.

Derrik and Selwin, as you and Harwin had expected, were less than thrilled when you’d informed them that the family was to relocate to Harrenhal so abruptly. The news hadn’t been easy for them to understand a few days before, and it seemed no easier for them to grasp now, even though the fateful moment had arrived. Derrick and Selwin looked so solemn, standing beside their friends, already donned in their traveling clothes and cloaks. Your sons had put on brave faces, but you knew they would miss Jacaerys and Lucerys terribly. You hoped that once they witnessed the grandeur that was Harrenhal, their spirits might be lifted, if only a little.

Better for them to be upset for a little while now, than to have them ripped from your arms by the headsman later. A chill ran down your spine at the horrid thought. You quickly regathered yourself by refocusing on the small Princeling in your arms.

Jacaerys and Lucerys were having difficulties coming to terms with the circumstances as well. Luke had been more reserved and closed off over the past few days than he usually was, and poor Jace had looked blatantly down-trodden.

As the Princes looked up at your husband with sad, wide eyes, your heart wrenched. It was unfair for them to be robbed of a man whom they looked up to so much, a man who practically had treated them as though they were his own blood for as long as they’d known him. You sincerely hoped Princess Rhaenyra would be able to get some proper sense through to Ser Laenor about investing more seriously into their family. Though Harwin and your family would be gone, Jacaerys and Lucerys’ need for fatherly guidance would not simply cease to exist with Harwin’s absence.

You could tell Harwin was still torn about having to leave, and, despite the potentially deadly consequences otherwise, you were not completely settled with the decision either. Harwin cared for the Princes greatly, that was beyond dispute. But, as you and Princess Rhaenyra had come to be so close over the years, you had come to care for her sons as well. Despite who their father was or was not, Jacaerys, Lucerys, and now Joffrey, were extensions of the woman whom you viewed as your dearest friend, and you loved them as such.

“We will return… I promise.”

You knew, perhaps better than anyone else, how true to his word Harwin was. But you did not fail to notice the intentional omittance of a time frame in which his vow would need to be accomplished.

When Princess Rhaenyra’s oldest son said nothing in response, Harwin tucked his hand under Jacaerys’ chin in an effort to cheer him up. It worked minimally; the boy did not look amused, but his look eventually shifted from one of dejection to one of reluctant acceptance. He nodded, silently confirming he understood your husband’s promise.

Harwin turned to Princess Rhaenyra with a sad smile. You took that as your queue to return Prince Joffrey back into her arms. The Princess accepted him from you with an ease, and she shushed him soothingly.

Once the youngest boy was settled in his mother’s arms, Harwin placed a gentle hand on top of the boy's head. “You be good too, little lad,” he instructed the babe half-seriously. A sobering thought must have struck his mind then, for he added dismally, “I will be a stranger when we meet again.”

“You will never be a stranger,” Princess Rhaenyra assured him quickly. Her eyes flickered over to you. The look in them was severe. “Neither of you shall be.”

You gave her a melancholy smile. “Thank you, Princess.”

“We should go, lads,” Harwin suggested then, turning to Derrik and Selwin. “Your grandsire will be waiting for us.”

Despite their obvious downcast looks, Derrik and Selwin stood to attention at their father’s direction. They bowed to the Princes, and then Princess Rhaenyra. They headed towards the door, but did so slowly, and not without a few forlorn looks over their shoulder back at their companions.

Once they had left the room, Harwin bowed. “My Princess.”

“Ser Harwin.”

Your husband’s eyes lingered on yours for a moment, and a silent understanding passed between you. With one more small smile at the Princes, and the Princess, Harwin followed your sons out of the chambers and into the hall.

Jacaerys meandered over to Lucerys. Once he reached him, he crouched down and attempted to cheer him up by joining him as he absent mindedly shuffled miniature figures across the rug before the fire. You took one last good look at the both of them, as if trying to preserve the strangely tranquil scene to memory.

When you finally looked back to Princess Rhaenyra, your eyes threatened to swell with tears. But you held strong.

“Goodbye, Lady Y/N.”

“Farewell, My Princess.”

There was a moment of silence, the both of you mutually unsure as to what to say or do next.

But then, Princess Rhaenyra nestled Prince Joffrey more securely to her. Once she was satisfied, she released her hold on him by a single arm, and extended it outwards to you.

Perhaps a single tear or two fell as you took a step forward into the friendly embrace. Both of you tried your best not to squish the squirming babe between you, but the meaningfulness of the gesture was not lost on you.

You would all exchange letters by raven; that had already been agreed upon firmly, and thrice over at that. But you knew not when you would see Princess Rhaenyra with your own eyes again, and that thought troubled you. Perhaps it would only be a year… maybe two.

Though in your heart, it felt likely to be a much longer span of time than any other had been.

“Larys, there you are!”

You were just about to instruct Derrik and Selwin to climb into the carriage in front of you when your Good Father shouted across the yard.

Larys Strong hobbled down the few castle steps with a skill one could only have developed over a lifetime of practice. As he made his way across the yard and over to your party, Lord Lyonel and Harwin walked around the front of the carriage, and came to a halt beside you and your sons. The two Strong men had just been about to mount their horses when the Lord Hand’s youngest son appeared.

It was still early in the morn, though the sky was gradually getting lighter. The sun would be up soon, and with it, both the Red Keep and King’s Landing would rise for the day. You were of the same mind as your Good Father; it would be best if the party was to leave sooner rather than later, but you were in no position to rush Harwin or his father as they bid their goodbyes.

Besides, you did not mind your Good Brother too terribly. Larys was a quiet fellow, sure. And, perhaps, a bit odd at times. But you believed that only a few men would not recuse themselves to the shadows if they’d been given a brother like Harwin, whose reputation tended to precede him. Especially a man with a clubfoot.

Of course, Harwin refused to let him do such a thing. Despite the attention that he’d garnered over the years, Harwin had never been one to steal thunder from another, especially not a member of his family. Your husband loved his younger brother dearly, and in turn, Lord Lyonel loved both equally. People had different strengths. Though Harwin’s may have been in a more literal sense, every conversation you’d had with your Good Brother indicated that Larys Strong was nothing less than an extremely intelligent man.

“Forgive me, Father,” Larys apologized sheepishly, coming to a steady stop a short ways away. He shifted to bear his weight upon his cane more comfortably. “Regrettably, I am unable to move as fast as I wish I could.”

Lord Lyonel was nothing but understanding, as was Harwin.

“Never mind all that,” Harwin dismissed swiftly, easily. “You are here now, and that is what matters.”

Larys gave him an appreciative smile.

“Once your brother is settled in Harrenhal, I shall return,” the Lord Hand informed his youngest son. “Though, that may be yet a month or so from now…”

Harwin looked mildly distressed at the thought of that.

Larys was unphased. “I eagerly look forward to your return, Father.”

You had originally thought Larys might make the trip to Harrenhal with you. As long as Lord Lyonel, or Harwin, was Lord of Harrenhal, there would always be a place for him there. But the Lord Hand had already declared the trip was to pertain to business more than to pleasure, and, as he was still honored with his post by order of King Viserys, Lord Lyonel was likely to return to King’s Landing as soon as was feasible. The venture likely did not seem worth the effort to the youngest Strong son. In addition, you knew Larys had friends and other companions in the Red Keep… though you might not have known them all by name, he certainly spent time with them frequently, having opted to share meals with them several times a week.

“My Lord, perhaps you might like to visit us, after things have settled?” you suggested to your Good Brother warmly. “Your sisters have informed your brother and I of their intent to do the same. I would not speak for them, but I would dare to venture that they would enjoy your company, especially after having been parted from one another these past few years.”

The Strong sisters, Lilyan and Eyla, were now married and had families of their own. Lilyan had married Lord Cerran Leygood, whom she had been introduced to shortly after her first visit to Highgarden. Both you and Harwin were pleased that Lilyan had married another lord of the Reach- it made visits with each other far more achievable. However, Harwin’s younger sister, Lady Eyla, had wed Lord Joseth Smallwood. Unfortunately, Acorn Hall, the seat of House Smallwood, was in the Riverlands, and that meant visits with the youngest Strong sister had been few and far between over the years. However, Acorn Hall was just a short distance from Harrenhal in comparison, and both you and your husband were very much looking forward to seeing Lady Eyla and her family once more.

Surprisingly, Larys looked rather agreeable to your suggestion. “A generous offer. I shall take it under great consideration, My Lady. But for now, I shall wish you all safe travels.”

“Say goodbye to your uncle, lads,” Harwin prompted Derrik and Selwin gently.

“Goodbye Uncle!” they chorused.

“Farewell, Nephews!”

Derrik and Selwin climbed into the carriage, and Harwin offered you a courteous hand so that you could do the same. You gave him a soft smile as you took it, and then promptly followed the suit of your sons. Once the three of you were settled inside, Harwin shut the door securely behind you.

As Lord Lyonel and Harwin walked around the carriage to finally mount their horses, you dared to sneak your head out the window, deciding to take one last look at the Red Keep. Like Princess Rhaenyra, you wondered when you might see it with your own eyes again… and if you ever would. Your sights traveled from the highest peak of Maegor’s Holdfast, to the very top of the Tower of the Hand, and all the way down the many other structural elements that comprised the Red Keep. As you tried to commit it all to memory, your eyes finally fell back down to the level of the yard.

Larys was standing as he was. When his eyes met yours, you saw something in his eyes that gave you pause. Though they were nearly the same hues as that of Harwin’s, Larys’ gaze was not nearly as calming… In fact, there was something eerie in those eyes of his, you realized as they locked with your own. But, just as quickly as you’d noticed it, the look had disappeared. You blinked, and all signs of anything ingenuine on your Good Brother’s face was gone.

You quickly wrote it off to your general mood of sadness and significant lack of sleep.

As the carriage leapt forward, and the party began their departure, Larys waved you off. In somewhat of a comical gesture, he raised his cane, giving it a slight wave in lieu of using a hand.

In the rising sun, a glimmer of light struck the jewel of the unique decal that was ingrained in the pummel of the cane.

The beginning of the journey was a quiet one.

The family’s few handmaidens and the boys’ nanny rode in a separate carriage, leaving no one but you, Derrik, and Selwin in the other. Perhaps the boys would take to riding the closer you drew to Harrenhal, and would eventually join their grandsire and Harwin on horseback. But for now, as the pair of them already threatened to nod off with every passing moment, you were grateful neither Derrik nor Selwin had fought with yours and Harwin’s decision to confine them to the carriage for the first part of the trip.

“Mother?”

You looked at Derrik, who was seated across from you, with a small start. You’d thought he’d already drifted off. “Yes, My Heart?”

“Are the Princes really our brothers?”

You paled. Never had your boys given you any suggestion that they were aware of the questions surrounding the parentage of Princess Rhaenyra’s sons. But, the walls of the Red Keep did not only have ears and eyes… sometimes they had mouths, too. It was not unfathomable to believe that someone, who did not take care to mind their tongue, might have let some choice words slip in front of your sons.

When you did not answer immediately, Derrik pressed, his brows furrowed with worry, “Is Father their father, too?”

Beside you, Selwin looked up at you with wide, inquisitive eyes.

“No, my sons,” you answered firmly. “Your father is not the Princes’ father.”

“But they do not resemble Ser Laenor,” Derrick observed, his face scrunching in confusion. “Everyone can see it is so. And if it is not him, or Father, then who-”

You shushed him hastily, desperately wanting to cease this topic before it got too far out of your control. The sooner your boys were cognizant of the danger of the subject they were not so subtly hinting at, the safer they’d be for it. And the less of the truth you’d have to offer as an explanation to their relentless questioning.

“Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey are Princess Rhaenyra’s sons,” you reminded them. “They are Targaryens. Prince Jacaerys will sit the Iron Throne one day- but only after his mother. And that, my dear boys, is all that truly matters.”

Thankfully, Derrik seemed satisfied by your steadfast response. But Selwin still looked unhappy.

“So… they are not our brothers?” he asked despondently, his voice wavering with dissappointment.

You sighed sympathetically and pulled him closer to your side. You contemplated your response for a decent amount of time, unsure of how best to explain your opinion on the matter. Once you drew upon some inspiration from your own relationship with Princess Rhaenyra, the words came to you quickly.

You proposed thoughtfully, “One need not always be of the same blood to consider another a brother.”

Selwin’s eyes lit up at your words, and he gave you an understanding nod.

The traveling party must have had the gods’ blessing. The weather was fair, and just shy of a week from the departure from the capital city, the group encroached upon your destination.

The Riverlands were vast and green. Though not nearly as flat nor expansive, and perhaps a bit more damp, than your homelands of the Reach, the lands were fertile all the same. It was a drastic change of scenery from King’s Landing, but a lovely change at that.

Derrik and Selwin had done little else but chatter enthusiastically amongst themselves since the party had ridden through Harrentown. They’d peered out the window curiously, taking in the sights of the village. Meanwhile, the people on the streets had offered the traveling party nothing but smiles and the occasional cheer. The mood in the air was one of great joy, for the Lord of Harrenhal, and his heirs, had finally returned after an absence of many years.

Once the party passed Harrentown, it was not but half an hour later that the walls of the keep came into view. Beyond them, the tall, ominous towers kissed the clouds in the distance.

Derrik and Selwin’s eyes grew so big as they took in the sight of it all, you almost thought you’d have been able to see the reflection of the castle within them.

Harrenhal was the largest castle in all the seven kingdoms. Five massive towers drew the eyes’ focus first, but that quickly gave way to the many, many walls that connected to multitude of other parts of the fortress. Some sections of the stone amongst the various towers were a ghastly sight; they’d been blackened by Aegon the Conqueror and Balerion during the Conquest, and King Harren the Black had perished for it. But even the haunting sight of the damage done by legends past tended to be eclipsed by the sheer scale of it all.

Harrenhal was said to be a cursed place, but you weren’t entirely sold on the idea. A place so expansive would understandably give way to many odd creaks and moans, and the mazes of corridors inside could understandably put one all out of sorts. Harwin had insisted he had seen a few ghostly spectors roaming the halls throughout his childhood, but whenever he’d done so, it’d been with a light tone and a teasing glint in his eyes.

You’d only been to Harrenhal once before, but it had been many years ago, and the Reach had called you back shortly after arrival. In the time since, you’d been told that many internal repairs had been accomplished, largely in part to your sizable dowry from your marriage to Harwin. Derrik had been just a babe at the time, and Selwin not yet a thought.

But now, as your sons took in the castle in all its glory, they looked completely in awe of it. Your spirits lifted with the hopes that they might not be nearly as miserable here as they initially declared they’d be.

After the party entered through the castle gate, the horses and the carriages came to a halt. A few moments later, Harwin appeared through the carriage window, and opened the door courteously.

Derrik and Selwin raced to be the first out of the carriage, causing a small laugh from Harwin, as well as a few other rumbles of laughter from others whom you did not yet see. Once the boys had stepped out, you followed, your eyes flashing to Harwin as he helped escort you down and out of the carriage.

He looked a bit nervous. You decided to do what you could to rectify that, and continued to hold on to his arm, even when his assistance was no longer necessary. Harwin looked thankful for the gesture, and subtly pulled you closer to his side. You lifted your head, and took in the scene before you.

Servants, maids, and other residents of Harrenhal had all gathered in the courtyard, awaiting your imminent arrival. Most of their eyes were on Lord Lyonel, as he stepped forward to warmly greet a man dressed in a fine doublet. You could only assume the man was the Lord Hand’s steward.

While most of the attention had been diverted, a fair share of eyes still fell upon your family. Understandably curious eyes took in the sight of Harwin, who had been sparser in Harrenhal than even Lord Lyonel as of late.

Gentler eyes took in the sights of Derrik and Selwin. Some of the more elderly and matronly servants smiled warmly at them. There was a visible excitement and pleasure in the fact that young spirits had come to take residence in Harrenhal once more.

“This, my dear grandsons, is where the Great Council was held.”

The monstrous chamber room, which was several times larger than that of the throne room in the Red Keep, felt cold, and empty. But the stone walls, which reached upwards towards the sky, though nearly bare, held many secrets of fascinating history.

The four of you stood in the middle of the room, taking it all in. Lord Lyonel’s voice echoed off the walls, reaffirming the room’s magnificence.

“And this,” Lord Lyonel emphasized, directing Derrik and Selwin’s attention to the very middle of the room, “This is the very spot, where the Old King Jaehaerys, gods bless his memory, sat as he read the verdict of the Great Council. It was here, in this spot, that he decreed that our King Viserys, First of His Name, would succeed him on the Iron Throne.”

Derrik and Selwin still looked to be in great awe. Your heartstrings were pulled by their pure joy and enamourment with their surroundings. You snuck a glance at Harwin, noting that his response to your son’s enthusiasm was much the same.

Lord Lyonel smiled to himself, seemingly lost in thought. You could hardly blame him. The castle had a remarkable history, and the account of House Strong was just the latest part of it. You had learned of Harrenhal’s history during your studies as a girl, but your marriage to Harwin had kept you well versed in it. After the passing of the Old King’s sister, Queen Rhaena, King Jaehaerys granted the castle and the title of Lord of Harrenhal to Ser Bywin strong, a renowned knight.

Lyonel Strong was only the third Lord of House Strong to hold the title- after Bywin, it had passed to his son Selwin, Harwin’s grandsire, and your youngest son’s namesake. After Lyonel, it would pass to Harwin, and then, gods be good, many many years after that, it would pass to one of your sons.

“All of this shall be one of yours someday, lads,” Lyonel Strong decreed, looking down at your sons with a gleaming smile. There was undeniable pride lacing his tone. The Lord Hand was not typically a proud one; he was wise, and generally reserved. But if there was one thing Lord Lyonel allowed himself to indulge and take pride in, it was that of his family, whom he loved greatly.

Derrik and Selwin looked at each other questioningly, as if wondering who amongst them would inherit the imposing structure they stood within.

After Selwin’s birth, you and Harwin mutually decided that, as each of you were to possess titles and seats of your own right, there was more than enough inheritance to be passed down to your sons. Not only would holding both Highgarden and Harrenal simultaneously be quite difficult to manage, the great distance between the two seats made such a prospect that much more daunting.

The decision reached was an easy one, and had required little discussion. Between you and Harwin, Derrik would inherit the seat, titles, and land of whoever was first to pass. Selwin would inherit the other’s.

You still held a grudge for your cousin, Lord Garrett Redwyne. The second son of the Lord of the Arbor had left a bad taste in your mouth, and an even poorer impression on your mind following his attempt to usurp your family seat of Highgarden after the untimely demise of your brother, Derron. Ever since that day, you’d sworn to yourself that you would never allow your family to be divided in such a manner ever again. The greed of one son would not rob the other of his own birthright.

Derrik and Selwin would each have their own holding, their own lands, and their own titles. But only the gods knew whose titles they were to inherit in due time.

And if the gods were kind, it would be many years before any of that came to pass, anyway.

You looked over at Harwin, trying to gauge his thoughts. Beyond the reasons why you could have made arguments to stay in King’s Landing, you had grown to suspect there were just as many, if not more, reasons why Harwin had not wished to come to Harrenhal.

Though Derrik, Selwin, and Lord Lyonel continued to bask in the room, Harwin was looking, but not seeing, his surroundings. No trace of a smile was upon his face. He was nervous, unsure of himself. Those were traits not usually exhibited by him, but you’d bore witness to most of the few moments that his general aura of confidence and self assuredness had slipped.

Thankfully, experience had taught you that Harwin’s mind was relatively easy to placate in such a state. He just needed some support and reassurance.

You reached out and wordlessly took his nearest hand in your own. Immediately, you looked upwards at the ceiling, playing coy.

You felt the heat from Harwin’s inquisitive gaze upon you. When you finally saw a small smile threatening his otherwise stoic composure out of the corner of your eyes, you smirked upwards towards the ceiling, basking in your minor victory.

About a month after arriving in Harrenhal, you, Harwin, and the rest of your family had finally started to become adjusted to the new phase of life.

The aura of Harrenhal, all the way from the servants up to the Lord Hand, was an extremely joyous one. The castle was to host a grand feast for a few noble families of the area the following week. In preparation of the feast, Lilyan, Eyla, their lord husbands, and their children would be arriving in a few days for an extended visit.

For the first time in years, Harrenhal was bustling with life, and more importantly, family.

At present, a family dinner was being held, as it had been many of the nights before. Lord Lyonel was seated at the end of the table, with Harwin to his right, and you seated beside him. Derrik and Selwin sat respectively across from the two of you.

The Lord Hand was in the midst of a speech about the recent repairs and construction contracts for Harrenhal, a daunting task in and of itself. It had preoccupied his and Harwin’s time for the better part of the last month.

Beside you, Harwin shifted in his seat uncomfortably. You looked over at him with gentle eyes and a sympathetic smile.

Harwin was dressed in finer clothes than what he usually wore. You couldn’t say you minded; the dark blue doublet complimented him greatly. Though Harwin had never been one to dress “shabby” in any sense of the word, whilst you were in King’s Landing, you’d grown accustomed to seeing him in his armor more often than not. Even when you resided in Highgarden, when Harwin was not training Derrik or Selwin, or honing his own skills in the training yard there, he still had little reason to dress in anything particularly flashy.

But whilst in Harrenhal, he was more than Ser Harwin Breakbones, post-Lord Commander of the City Watch. He was more than the husband of the Lady Tyrell of Highgarden. In Harrenhal, Harwin was the son of the Hand of the King, and more importantly, his eldest son and heir. Lord Lyonel wasn’t the only one who expected great things of him in this regard, and Harwin had confided to you that he only thought it fitting that he at least try to dress the part.

Harwin had been concerned that his previous lack of dedicated interest, combined with his father’s time consuming engagements to the Crown, had rendered him at a disadvantage for adequately assuming the duties of his family’s seat. Perhaps it had. But yet again, you had pointed out to him that he was at no more of a disadvantage than you had been when you’d unexpectedly taken up the intimidating mantle that was Highgarden a decade prior.

But for all of his concerns, Harwin needn’t have worried. He still had the occasional self doubts- as anyone in his position would- but he was learning as much and doing as well as could be expected. He was with his father from dawn to dusk nearly every day, as the Lord Hand tried to impart on him all the wisdom he could about the intricate details of the Lord of Harrenhal’s duties. A month had passed, and Lord Lyonel was quite impressed with Harwin’s progress.

Harwin had been such an invaluable system of support for you as you’d grown into your role of Lady of Highgarden. Supporting him as he grew to assume his duties as Lord of Harrenhal was an honor and a privilege. And witnessing Harwin so clearly succeed at that task filled you with an unspeakable amount of pride.

Noting Harwin’s reluctance to the topic of discussion his father had proposed, you reached up and placed your hand overtop of his, which was resting flat upon the surface of the table. Harwin welcomed the act, and seamlessly turned over his palm so that your fingers could intertwine comfortably.

“Good Father?” you interrupted as politely as you could muster, “Mayhaps we discuss matters other than business this evening?”

Lord Lyonel cut himself short, and gave you a sheepish look somewhat akin to that of a child having been scolded. “Of course, Lady Y/N,” he assented without malice. His eyes flickered over to Derrik and Selwin on the other side of him. At the sight of them, Lord Lyonel’s eyes lit up in a way you supposed only those who were fortunate enough to enjoy the presence of their grandchildren could have… A pure love for the blood of their own blood.

Derrik and Selwin had adjusted to life in Harrenhal more smoothly than you would have imagined. But their favorite hobby as of late was wandering around and discovering the many facets of the castle. Whenever he had the time, Harwin had been more than happy to show them around. You often roamed the halls yourself, though you were almost always looking for your family when doing so. The direction-pointing of servants and laughter from your husband and sons echoing throughout the corridors tended to lead you exactly where you needed to go.

“Lads, tell me- how are your studies going?” their grandsire inquired of them. “Maester Briden tells me he’s been very pleased with your progress. And I, in turn, was pleased to hear that was the case.”

Derrik had always enjoyed learning. The moment he was old enough to leave the nursery and go under the guidance of his tutors, he’d wanted to do little else but read every book he could get his hands on. It was not unusual for the nanny to report that Derrik been up well into the night, reading by the firelight in his chambers. He smiled shyly at the Lord Hand’s praise. “Thank you, Grandsire.”

Selwin was uncharacteristically silent.

Noting this, Harwin coaxed him, “And you, Selwin?”

Selwin shrugged, and poked at the peas on his plate timidly. He was an obedient child, but it didn’t take someone particularly wise to be able to deduce that Selwin was one who preferred doing rather than reading. He’d never refused to attend his lessons, but pure joy was seldom expressed in him anywhere else but when he was out in the training yard with his father and brother. “I enjoy the history lessons, I suppose…”

“Take heart, my boy,” Lord Lyonel encouraged him readily. “Your father was not always a dedicated student either, but look at him now.”

Harwin’s attention piqued.

The Lord Hand spared a warm glance at his eldest son, before looking back to address Selwin. “Your father has made great strides as of late. He has recommitted himself to his duties and obligation to his family. He makes his House, our House, proud.”

Harwin beamed at his father’s acknowledgement, and you squeezed his hand as you attempted to dilute your own gleam of pride.

“He shall make a fine lord some day,” Lord Lyonel declared to his grandsons. “As will each of you.”

Everyone smiled at that notion.

“I would like to propose a toast,” you announced gleefully as you allowed yourself to be swept away with the cheerful mood. You lifted your goblet into the air, and all eyes were upon you as they awaited your words. You glanced briefly among your loved ones before continuing. “A toast to my Good Father, the Lord Hand. We shall all miss you dearly when you return to King’s Landing the week after next. I wish you continued good health, and safe travels.”

Lord Lyonel gave you an appreciative look. Harwin, Derrick, and Selwin joined you in raising their cups.

“I would like to propose a toast of my own,” Harwin confessed then. “I toast to my father as well… for reminding me of what truly matters.”

A moment of silence lingered uncomfortably for the briefest of moments.

“But I would also like to toast my sons- Derrik, Selwin. And my Lady Wife, Y/N,” Harwin held out his goblet to each of you. “The gods have blessed me greatly with each of you, and I fear I do not thank them enough for it.”

“Shall I propose one, final toast?” Lord Lyonel offered, though it was redundant. Harrenhal was his castle; of course the very table at which they sat was as well. Though he could have commanded their attention, everyone at present respected Lord Lyonel enough to grant it to him freely.

The Lord Hand’s eyes hovered over each of you for several moments. There was a warmth and fondness in your Good Father’s expression that reminded you so plainly of your own father, whenever he would regard you and Derron. You fought off an involuntary smile in response to the memory.

“To House Strong,” he began. “Mayhaps, these next few generations shall be the strongest of which our House has seen for many years.”

A lovely thought, you thought to yourself. The image of your sons, grown and standing tall as lords in their own right, filled your mind’s eye.

“And to House Tyrell,” the Lord Hand said then, his goblet tilting in your direction. “My Lady, with words such as ‘Growing Strong’, it is a wonder our Houses have not been joined sooner than this.”

There was a light round of laughter at his jest.

Lord Lyonel redirected, “But, to be entirely truthful, Lady Y/N, your presence has been a blessing in my life as well. My grandsons are one the few sources of pride I do not allow myself to feel guilty for. You have made my son the happiest I have seen him since he was a boy. You have been a blessing not only in his life, but in mine as well. I am happy to consider you a daughter; I am happy you are a part of this family.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears.

Lord Lyonel proclaimed, lifting his goblet the highest it had been all evening, “To family!”

“To family!”

A/N: Thank you for reading!🖤 Part 2 will be posted on Thursday 11/10. I may not be able link it here if the tags still hate me, but it’ll be linked on the series masterlist.

Part 2 is going to be a bit of a doozy, so... I’ll bring some tissues for everyone🥲🖤

263 notes · View notes