Ambers || Jacaerys Velaryon

1. Harwin

It had been years since Ser Harwin Strong set foot in the riverlands.

His father's duties in the capital had drawn him into responsibilities there as well. His allegiance to the crown and to the princess he was sworn to protect had long overshadowed his ties to Harrenhal. Protecting an heir whose claim was constantly questioned left little time for life in the lands his family had a partial claim to. Still, some things could not be ignored-- especially when tragedy came to him on the wings of a raven.

A fortnight ago, Harwin received a message. The parchment, hastily written and smudged with ink, informed him of the death of Kemper Ambers, his oldest childhood friend, who had fallen to a harsh sickness.

Such a powerful man felled by such an insignificant enemy, Harwin had thought bitterly.

Despite his grief, Harwin left King's Landing swiftly to honor his old friend, whom he hadn't seen in ages. They had once been boys together, training to become knights. Harwin's uncle had accepted them both as squires, despite Kemper's lack of noble lineage. Kemper was a true talent with an axe and loyal to a fault, a trait the Strongs valued above all else.

As they grew into young men, Harwin and Kemper were meant to travel to the capital together, joining Harwin's family in service to the king after one last journey from the north to the south-- a farewell trek to their youth. Once in the jewel of the crownlands, they would complete their training and become true knights. Harwin had been grateful for Kemper's company; though his younger brother Larys would follow after them, Harwin did not always enjoy his presence. He loved his brother, as family is supposed to love family, but he did not like him.

It was with Kemper that Harwin learned the true meaning of brotherhood.

Harwin had always believed they would die together-- perhaps in the midst of a great battle, or even as old men, grey-bearded and still serving the crown. But those thoughts ended the day they traveled to a small village, tucked away in the mountains far from the kingsroad and beyond the river road at the border between the riverlands and the westerlands. They had detoured to avoid a passing storm after returning from the north, and it was there that Kemper found something he hadn't been searching for.

She was a woman kissed by fire, her hair as red as rust and as long as the stream that coursed through her village. Her body was slight, but no less enticing, and her voice was like dark honey-- sweet, strong, and addicting. It took Kemper only a day to fall in love with her, and only a day to change his mind about journeying to the capital.

Harwin had felt betrayed as he returned to the kingsroad alone, his friend choosing a woman over potential glory. It wasn't until Harwin became a sworn sword to the king's daughter that he understood the heart often controls a man's actions more than he believes or even wants. There was no dishonor in that; the true dishonor lay in refusing to be honest with oneself. Harwin regretted not having the chance to tell Kemper that before his passing.

Relying on his memory, Harwin found his way back to that long-forgotten village. It wasn't easy, but the journey grew familiar when he spotted a recognizable mountain range beyond the river road. He and his horse ventured through a narrow cavern between two peaks, emerging into the heart of the village.

Rickety houses of clay and straw were scattered among the tall grass, with dark smoke rising from crooked chimneys. The sea was within view, but the village didn't rely on fishing. They had healthy crops nourished by rain runoff from the surrounding mountains. Strategic trenches guided the water through dozens of plots and then down toward the far ocean from a handmade stream. The people here had been living off the land for some time, needing little from the world beyond their mountains.