The candlelit hall was quiet, save for the steady voice of your mother as she explained your betrothal. Harwin Strong, the eldest son of Lord Lyonel Strong, was to be your husband. The decision wasn’t just about marriage; it was about strategy. Your house, a powerful independent kingdom that had allied with Aegon the Conqueror yet remained free of his direct rule, now stood on the precipice of another 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 civil war.

With Queen Rhaenyra and her half-brother Aegon vying for the Iron Throne, your mother saw this union as a means to ensure her loyalty to Rhaenyra bore fruit. House 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 needed allies, and your family was determined to be among the strongest. A marriage to Harwin Strong, one of Rhaenyra’s staunchest supporters, was the perfect solution.

“Rhaenyra’s claim must prevail,” she said. “An Iron Throne under Aegon risks everything.”

You nodded, though the weight of her words pressed against your chest. The betrothal to Harwin Strong had been decided weeks ago, but the reality of it was only now sinking in. Harwin was a good man, from what you’d heard—strong, loyal, and fiercely devoted to Rhaenyra and her children. A man of honor. And yet, this union was not about love or choice. It was strategy, pure and simple.

Your mother’s voice softened as she stepped closer, resting a hand on your shoulder. “This marriage will solidify our place beside Rhaenyra. Harwin is not only a loyal knight but a symbol of her strength. Through him, we secure our future. You’ll be safe.”

The cause. It always came back to that. The rightful Queen. The war. The realm.

When you arrived at Harrenhal days later, the weight of your future became clear. Harwin greeted you with a warm smile, his imposing presence softened by kind eyes. He bowed, his gaze reflecting an unspoken understanding of a union born of duty, not choice.

“I hope you’ll find Harrenhal a suitable home,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “It’s not as grand as your own halls, but… I’ll do what I can to make it comfortable for you.”