"Is it not unbecoming of a man of the city watch to enter a lady's chambers uninvited?"
"Is it not unbecoming of a lady to hold a blade to the commander of the city watch's throat, my princess?"
[or]
Amongst the ceaseless battle of succession to Vi...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
⋆⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆
THE ABILITY TO SLEEP AWAY FROM ONE'S OWN BED WAS AN ABILITY BAELA TARGARYEN HADN'T BEEN FORTUNATE ENOUGH TO BE BLESSED WITH. Perhaps it was the abysmal amount of sleep she had managed to cling to since departing King's Landing that allowed her to believe her current actions were of sound mind. Perhaps it was the several chalices of wine she had indulged in, in the aftermath of the day's dismal affairs, in a bid to keep the dwindling remnants of her sanity intact that had her fooled into deciding that stalking the halls of Harrenhal in search of one particular man was a good idea.
Whatever the reasoning may have been, Baela cared not as she slipped her fine silken robe over her night dress and abandoned her chambers in search of much-preferred company. The hinge from which the old wooden door hung creaked almost mockingly as the silver-haired princess stepped out into the chilled corridor of Harrenhal leaving Baela to silently pray to the gods that Tayla- who had been situated in the room adjacent to her own- did not wake to scold her for her actions once again. She could only curse whichever of the gods had decreed that a simple noise could be so heavily amplified in the dead of night.
With light, quick steps the Targaryen woman crept along the corridor with great care, reciting the poorly disguised hint that Rylan had muttered before bidding her goodnight. 'Should you need anything throughout the night, Princess, Harwin and I are the only occupants within the east wing,' he had told her no sooner than his brother's back being turned, a cheeky grin dancing upon his lips. She found herself thankful for the information now as she meandered through the dark, but scoffed at how easily predictable she had become in the years with Rylan at her side.
Upon arriving upon the east wing, the unmistakable snores of Rylan Strong emanated from the furthermost door in the corridor. Only three other doors occupied the walls, two of which she knew to be unoccupied given that both Lord Lionel and Larys Strong had remained at Kings Landing. The faintest flicker of candlelight danced through the small space between the third door and the worn floor, indicating it to be the door she sought and that its occupant was very much still awake.
Lifting her dainty hand, the Princess rapped her knuckles softly against the wooden surface. A quiet series of shuffles could be heard beyond the door, indecipherable mutters following close behind. A brief second of silence passed before the door was cracked open.
"I swear to all the gods Rylan if you've come to berate me some mo-" Harwin Strong's words died on his tongue at the sight of the Princess before him.
Her silver strands hung loosely about her shoulders somewhat tousled, no longer trapped within the braids it had previously been twisted into. The silken robe that lay over her arms was left to hang open freely, baring the tauntingly thin nightdress she wore to him. It would've been so easy to give in and drop his gaze from her face to take in what lay beneath the thin cloth but in spite of the uptick his heart gave within his chest, Harwin refused to do so- refused to be yet another man casting their unwanted leering upon the beauty stood before him.
