Breakbones and the Dragonrider

Chapter 37

Sunlight filtered through the windows of the sept. Harwin watched as specks of dust danced through the beams of light. The sound of King's Landing was muffled here, behind closed doors. Tomorrow the sept would be filled with those wishing to pay their respects to Lyonel Strong, but for now, Harwin stood vigil over his father's body. He had placed the stones upon his eyes himself.

The chaos that fell over the Red Keep in the days following his father's death felt like a waking nightmare for Harwin. By the time the maesters got to the Tower of the Hand, his father was gone. The maesters said it was a bleeding of the brain. Rare, but not unheard of. Tragic of course, but nothing to be done about it they said.

Except Harwin bought none of it. He had raged, grabbed Alton by the tunic, demanding he tell him what he had done to his father's wine... It took several Kingsguard to pull the boy from his grasp. His behavior had been excused of course, and only Rhaenyra could talk him down, but he knew. In his heart, he knew that someone had poisoned his father.

And now, standing watch over his father, his thoughts raced. A million scenarios for the future, all of them swirling like the dust he had been watching for the last hour. It was all too much. And after tomorrow, he would have to face whatever chain of events followed losing his father.

For a moment he thought he had imagined it, but when he turned he found his brother walking towards him. He took the steps down to where their father laid carefully. Harwin's heart quickened at Larys's approach. He didn't know why.

"I'm grateful for you standing vigil over him," Larys said. "It should be you who does it though."

"Don't say that," Harwin said gently.

Larys shrugged as he came up to their father's body. They both stood opposite each other.

"He... would have wanted both of us to..."

Larys gave a generous half smile. "Only one of us was born to become Lord, brother. It's only natural that you were his pride. In any case, I think he would have been proud that you will now assume a lord's duties."

The realization hit him like a mace to the gut. He would be Lord of Harrenhal now. He of course knew that he and Larys would be moving out of the Tower of the Hand and into one of the more modest accommodations in the Red Keep once their father had been properly buried, but beyond that he hadn't expected to hear the title "Lord" so soon. Nor was he ready to assume the duties expected of him.

"Stepmother has those well in hand," Harwin said. "Father wrote to her often. Harrenhal doesn't need a Lord right now..."

Larys reinforced his grip on his cane, leaning on it. "Unless you plan to assume the other role he occupied here in King's Landing, what other reason do you have to—"

"—I am the commander of the city watch, and I will not abandon my post," Harwin interrupted, more forcefully than he had intended. Or Rhaenyra. The boys. But he couldn't say that.

Larys pressed his lips together in an appeasing way. "As you say," Larys said.

The two of them stood in silence for a moment, looking over their father. "He really was loyal to the realm, wasn't he? Unimpeachable. I only hope I will be able to serve his majesty half as well as our father..."

Harwin looked up at his little brother. A cold chill ran down his spine.

"What do you mean?" Harwin asked flatly.

Larys took an uncomfortable breath, and looked from where Lyonel Stron lay to where the new Lord of Harrenhal stood.

"In a temporary capacity, of course..." Larys said. "Until Otto Hightower can reach King's Landing, I have been asked to serve as interim Hand of the King. And stay on as the Queen's advisor thereafter."