Work Text:
The royal possession made its way through the forest. The ride had been pleasant so far (save for the fact that Deroun and Aegon had gone missing, though while he was worried he wasnt fearful for their lives just yet...as much as Deroun liked to drink, he wouldn't risk serious trouble with Aegon so close to him and as he told his brother Deroun along with Aegon would turn up once the tourney was over (though with the younger boy being very dissapointed in miss the whole event, having been excited at the thought of going)
“halt!” Baelor said as he halted his horse. From the corner of his eye, he could see his brother doing the same thing, having, like him heared a Lady's scream fill the air, which was quickly followed by sounds of fighting.
Turning his horse, he pushed it towards the sounds of fighting, his brother and the guards following. Breaking through the clearing, they saw a group of cutthroats fighting a lady in a steam, however, the man slowed in their actions upon seeing the Royals break through the trees. With a cry, a few of the men (who were on horseback) charged forward, only to be struck down by the Princes and their guards. The fight that followed was short-lived, ending with most of the cutthroats dead while the rest had split and fled into the thick forest that surrounded them (though they would easily be caught later)
Resheathing his sword, he turned back to the lady in the stream (which was almost up to her waist), who was breathing heavily, her arms shaking slightly from the unfamiliar weight of the sword in her hands. Her red hair had fallen out of the tie it had been, and fell around her face as wild and untamable as fire that created the burning embers, that matched her hair.
“Are you alright, My Lady?” he asked as he looked at her.
The lady didn't move right away; instead, she regarded them warily, her grip on the sword adjusted itself slightly as she looked at him with green wildfire eyes that dared those who looked into them to wonder deep into their inviting depths.
The sword in her hand lowered, and she returned her own back into its sheath.
“Thank you. My Lord,” the lady said, her words sweet and soft as a gentle breeze of summer.
“Lord? Do you not know you are speaking to the heir of the Kingdom?” his Nephew asked, his tone biting (insult lacing his words)
"That is enough, boy," his brother said, looking at Aerion.
"One would need to be simple..."
“Nephew, please. The lady ment no harm in her mistake,” Baelor said, cutting off his nephew as he looked over to the young man whose face flashed in anger before he turned and urged his horse away. He noted his brother letting out a sigh (unnoticeable to the others) and followed after his son to ensure Aerion didn't do anything foolish (honsetly many times Baelor felt bad for his brother, his kids could be a handful with Aerion's sudden and sometimes violent mood swings, Deruon and his drinking and Aegon who liked to disapper at times) turning away from were his brother had gone he turned his eyes back to the lady still in the water, slowly limping her way to the shore bank.
“Are you alright, my lady?” he asked.
“Fine…twisted my ankle during the attack”, she replied before letting out a hiss as she almost tripped over
"Please allow me to assist you?"
"Thank you, your Grace."
He unclasped his cloak and placed it over the saddle of his horse before he carefully waded out into the water to where she was. Once near her, he carefully scooped the lady up into his arms before he turned around and made his way back to the shore.
“May I inquire as to what your name is?” he asked
“Harleen. Your Grace,” she replied
“Where are you heading?”
“Ashford, I’m a healer…was hoping to gain some work with the tournament.”
"Will you allow me to escort you the rest of the way. It would allow you to rest your ankle for a bit"
"I would be very grateful for that, Your Grace."
Back at the shore, he gently placed the Lady Harleen down next to his horse, before, upon seeing her shivering slightly took his cloak from his saddle and wrapped it around her. He then lifted the Lady into the saddle before he climbed onto the saddle and carefully wrapped an arm around her waist to help steady her.
The rest of the way to Ashford was mostly ridden in silence. Save for a few words spoken here and there between the two brothers, when he wasn't speaking to his brother, Baelor turned his attention back to the enchanting woman in his arms, and he quietly spoke to the woman, hoping to ease some of her nervousness. Harleen, for the most part, kept her eye down as she answered the Prince's questions, feeling a bit out of her depth, sitting on what was basically a his lap, her back resting against the his strong chest, his arm around her waist holder her close to him, made it rather hard for her to keep the blush from forming on her face.
Once they arrived at the outskirts of Ashford, just before they reached the campgrounds, Harleen quietly asked the Prince to stop and let her down here. The Prince agreed to her ask before he pulled his horse to a stop and climbed down off the saddle before he reached up and helped her down, his hands on her waist linered for just a second before he stepped back, wishing her well as she had handed him his cloak back, their fingers brushed for just a moment making her lose her battle of keeping her blush away, thanking him once more before turned quickly walked away before her blush fully captuered her face.
Once in the campgrounds, she relaxed slightly and slowly made her way through the other campers, ranging from blacksmiths, people selling wares, and other healers. As she looked for a place to camp, her mind wandered to how long it had been since she arrived in this place...
6 months or 6 moon turns as they called it here.
It had been 6 moon since she arrived in this new world that was different from her own time, all thanks to the magic users being their usual asshole selves, leading a year of unrest before it fell into another war, as the light and dark blamed each other for the problems that existed in their world...ofcourse with rise of that war they turned to her once more and demand her to lead it.
This time, Harleen refused to fight. After the war with Voldemort, Harleen was done with dark wizards (done with save asshole who would slander her the second they could. They had done it after she defected Voldemort calling her a dark witch and demanding she be locked away), and instead of going to work for the Ministry as many thought she should have done, she went into healing which they hated and she had gotten more then one latter calling her a coward though they shut up real quick when she told them to go fight if they believd her a coward unsprisenly they came up with every reason why they couldnt fight.
Ofcourse she had known they would have tried to pull some shit and had thrown her into the vale, which had spat her out in a new world, where her magic was much weaker (due to this, she only used her limited magic for healing), thankful she had been lucky enough to make a new friend who helped her learn about her new home (she did feel bad about lieing about were she came from...but there no way she could tell truth and that would be a screct she would take to her grave. After all, it wasnt the first time such a thing happened to a Potter. Her ancestors had been from a different time.)
As she thought about the new world she found herself, she tried and failed not to think about the handsome Prince with mismatched eyes she had met or the horse ride they shared coming here were his arm had slid comfortable around her waist, holding her close to a strong chest and a spiecy scent clung to the air around him as his gentle voice and kind smile buried themselves deep into her mind calling out to her in a way no other man’s had done making her feel as if she was something precious to him…
Harleen halted her thoughts from where they had been going (such thoughts were best left to dreams and stories where Prince could fall in love with lowerborn women without worry of duty and were true…anyway, it wasn’t like he would return her growing affection if she dared voice them...fuck curse Potter luck for making it so they fall in love hard and fast) and turned her mind back to finding herself a small place she could set up camp before going in search of some food.
Turning around, she was about to look for a food cart when she stopped when she spotted a familiar form of one of the few people who had been kind to her when she had awoken in this new world.
“Duncan!” she called out to her tall friend as she made her way over to him, happy to see him at the tourney.
“Harleen. Its nice to see you are well.” Duncan (or Dunk as others called) greeted his friend in return, glad to see his friend was fine. He had been worried about his friend (whom he saw as a sister) ever since they parted ways four turns ago, keeping mostly in touch with letters.
“And I am glad to see you are well. Where is Ser Arlan?”
“Ser Arlan passed away.”
“I am sorry to hear that. He was a fine knight, Tought you well.” Turning her head, she noted a smaller form behind her friend, “…Oh, I see you have gained a little shadow.”
“Oh yeah! This is Egg. Egg, this is my friend Harleen,” Dunk replied as he brought ‘Egg’ forward
Egg smiled at the pretty lady in front of them…before it fell ever so slightly as he remembered the fact that Aerion was here, and he was worried Ser Duncan’s friend would run into his brother.
She was very pretty.
Pretty enough that she could easily capture the attention of his brother, which would be a bad thing…hopefully, their paths wouldn't cross, and Aerion would leave (or die with any luck) before she gained his gaze.
“It's nice to meet you,” he said before he added, “you're very pretty.”
Harleen let out a gentle laugh at the boy’s words, unknowingly causing a few knights to turn and look at her. Before most of them quickly turned away upon noticing the large Hedge Knight by the woman.
“Well, aren't you a charmer?”
Egg smiled at her words.
“Do you have a place for your camp yet?” Dunhcan asked, upon noticing her bag on her shoulder.
“No…I’m still looking for a place to set up,” she replied "Just stop to get something to eat."
“Well, why dont set up near our camp?”
“That sounds like a good idea. I feel better being near someone I know than risking being near an asshole.”
She frowned inwardly as she remembered the Apple guy (Ser Stefforn, she thinks he said his name was) she had met during her journey through the camp, and she wondered if the man had taken too many hits to the head, as he couldn't seem to get the fact that she wasnt interesting him at all.
(She just hoped she didn’t run into him again.)
“Well, our camp is just this way,” Dunk said as he led her over to where his and Egg’s camp was set up.
Dunk, being the kind man he was, did his best to set up a private area for her to sleep in using a blanket as a divider. Once settled in the camp, the small group ate a light dinner (which Harleen cooked) of fish and bread. Later that evening, saw them entering the tourney grounds to watch the first of the jousts. Harleen watched in amusement as Dunk lifted his little squire up onto his shoulders so the boy could watch the tournament.
The tournament was nothing like she had expected, as it was far more intense than anything she had imagined and she watched with a bit (well, a lot) excitment as the knights charged at each other some falling to the ground while others managed to stay on their owns (one the the knights who had been knocked managed to get back onto a horse picking up a shield.)
Casting her eyes back over to the stand where the Royals sat, with Lord Ashford, and just for a moment, their eyes met and Harleen was glad for to torch light and hood of her cloak keep her blush hidden, subtly she rose her hand give the Prince a small wave almost letting out a girlish sqeele when he subtlety (that others missed) nodded his head in acknowledgement.
It was late by the time the first bout finished. Harleen was following her friend (and newer smaller friend) back to their camp, when a man stopped in front of Dunk before telling him that the Laughing Storm had invited him to his party (the man had then added he could bring his friends if he wished to), with the night still youngish, they walked over to a large tent and entered that was filled with people dancing, drinking and eating food.
“AH! There you are, my tall friend!... Oh, I see you have even brought a friend with you this time!” the man with a deer antler crown greeted as he walked over to them.
“Lyonel” Dunk greeted “, This is my friend Harleen.”
“Nice to meet you, Ser Lyonel,” she said.
“Are you here for supper as well?”
“I…um.”
“Shy little thing, aren't she. Come be confident, little bird. The Seveness above blessed you with beauty, so be beauty!” he cried before he took a swig of his wine “Now, eat, drink and dance!”
She watched as the man turned and began dancing with the other people on the makeshift dance floor, turning away from the scene, she looked at her friend with a raised eyebrow.
“You have a very interesting new friend,” she said, making Dunk laugh before he directed her and Egg to some seats around a table before he fetched them some food.
Later on, saw her, Dunk, a rather sleepy Egg, at a table as they drank (though Harleen was less drunk than her friend), chatting as they caught up after parting ways 4 months ago, leading to her laughing at her friend's words when he spoke about meeting the princes (though she didnt mention meeting them herself, afried she may show the effect Prince Baelor had on her).
“I hope your sons aren't found dead. Did…did you really just say ‘I hope your sons aren't found dead’?” she questioned
“Yes,” he mumbled, still feeling embarrassed at his blunder.
“Oh. That…um, a very interesting way of saying “I’ll pray they are found safe and well.”
“It just came out.”
“What did the Prince’s say to that?”
“I left before he could.”
“Properly, a good idea…ergh, come let's get going, if you're going to compete, you need to get some rest and train, so you can be ready.”
Rising from her seat, she watched as Dunk picked up a now sleeping Egg and carried him back to their camp, placing the boy on his mat, giving him his blanket, before he fell asleep himself. As she settled down in her own makeshift bed, her mind slowly wondered and she found herself dreaming of a Prince whose smile was brighter then sun and eyes looked at her as if she was something precious.
The next morning, saw her cooking a simple breakfast of oats before she handed a potion to Dunk, who, upon remembering how vile said potion teasted he tried to refuse to take it, only to lose said refusal when Harleen glared at him. After packing what they needed for the day, they parted ways as he and Egg went to the field train while she went in search of some work.
A little while later, just as the sun was hitting midday, Harleen walked through the campgrounds quietly after helping a few knights who had gotten into a drunken fight with their injuries (two had dislocated their shoulders, one had a broken hand) and a few other people in need of minor healing, there was very little easy as the, as the joust that had been happening that day had been called to an end early due to an incident involving Prince Aerion.
Walking over to a stall, she brought herself an apple and tucked it in her pocket for later, she then found herself a place to sit away from prying eyes and began to quietly hum to her self as she pulled out her book and a thin piece of coal flipped to the she had been writing on earlier and continued to write about the new healing potion she had made to help people who suffered with life long pain (it had been tricky as pain retudecing potions werent made to be taken long term but, she had final done with the help of a plant that had no longer exsisted in her life time.)
As she wrote, she found herself humming a little song as her mind wandered to Prince Baelor, to the quiet strength that hummed under his skin, allowing him to bear the weight of being heir and the judgment people sent his away for not looking Targaryen enough (a silly thing to get upset about in her opinion, surely the fact he had all the marks of a good king be enough for them)...his beautiful eyes that spoke of kindness, the hold of his hands that while rough from training since boyhood were strong and gentle, his kind voice that caressed her skin in a lovers touch…
“Hello. Lady Harleen,” a familiar voice said behind her, making her jump slightly.
Turning, she saw Prince Baelor standing in front of her, offering her a kind smile that made her heart skip.
“My apologies, My Lady, I didn't mean to scare you,” he said, as he offered her his hand, helping her up off the ground.
“Prince Baelor,” She greeted, bowing slightly. “Do…Do you need some help?”
“No. But I was hoping that, if it's not too much trouble, I could take you away for a bit?"
Harleen felt her cheeks heat up a little at his words. And she fought to keep her tretours blush off her cheeks.
Stop it. This isn't a fairy tale, Harleen, this world is real, and a Prince can't fall in love with a woman of low birth (princes are destined to marry princesses), no matter what the books a little girl under the stairs said- she thought to herself as she looked at the Prince who was waiting for her answer to his invitation.
“It's not any trouble at all,” she replied, pushing away the voice that once again told her why she shouldn’t go with him. Opening her healer's bag, she placed her book back inside once more before she brushed some dust off her skirt.
Stepping closer to the man, she took his offered arm and allowed him to lead her away from the campgrounds and through the nearby fields. As they walked, they softly chatted with each other. When he asked about where she came from, she told him her home had been destroyed by a pointless war (which was partly true; war had taken her home from her), she in turn, asked him about his house, and she listened as he told more of his house's history
Before long, they came to a stop under the shade of a tree, were the talked for a little bit more before falling into the comfortable silence.
“May I ask what song you were humming earlier?” he asked, breaking the silence.
Harleen felt her heart stop at his question as she remembered what she had been humming as she thought about him
“Its…it, um, just a little song from home,” she replied.
Gods please…please dont ask me to sing it
“May I hear it, please?” he asked
Fuck…should have told him it was a love song
Harleen felt herself grow nervous at his words, her heart thundered in her chest as she worried that if she did start to sing, he would see her true feelings and he would leave…but a single glance at his kind smile and Harleen found herself unable to deny him, his simple request, gathering her courage, she began to sing, her eyes, which she had tried to keep on camp instead met his perfectly mismatched ones, and refused to leave them.
‘…For I cannot help falling in love with thee,” she finished as she continued to look into the Prince’s (who was now standing in front of her) eyes.
“You have a very beautiful voice,” he complimented. His voice sounded deeper, making her body feel hot… oh so pleasurably hot.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Baelor.”
“Pardon, Your Grace.”
“You can call me Baelor when we are alone, if you wish to.”
“Then you can call me Harleen.”
“Very well,”
Harleen watched as Baelor raised his hand to show a single, simple flower held within it. Her heart skipped as he tucked the flower into her hair, before his hand dropped slightly and brushed a loose strand of her hair; his fingertips lightly touched the bare skin of her shoulder.
There was a soft beat of silence before Baelor leaned forward and pressed his lips to her. One of his hands moved to her waist and rested upon it while the other moved to the back of her neck. Her own hands moved on their own accord and snaked around his neck, pulling him closer to her.
His hold on her tightened for just a second as her legs gave away slightly, causing them to stumble back, resulting in her being pinned against the tree (not that she was complaining about being trapped by his body). Harleen let out a small gasp as his tongue pushed it's way into her mouth as the kiss became passionate, making her moan slightly before letting out a whine as he broke their kiss, however her disappointemt was sorted lived as his lips traveled over her neck and she titled her head slightly her eyes closed and a small shiver left her as his hand moved from her waist and hitched her leg up pushing her skirt up slightly before he rested it on her thigh before he returned his lips to hers, kissing her hungerly as the hand on her thigh began move higher...
And then (much to her disappointment) it was over, as he broke the kiss and pulled away from her, the hand that had been resting on her neck slowly moved to the small of her back, before he stepped back a little, as she moved her hands to his chest, she could feel the blush form on her cheeks. Glancing up at his face, she felt her blush deepen as she saw the look in his eyes.
Desire
She was use to men looking at her desire (she knew all about the magazines back in her time, that spoke about her body and what men were saying about it)…but the desire in Baelor’s eyes was different. This wasn't a leering desire that she used to, that made her feel disgusting and wishing to wash with bleach…wishing to hide away from the world. But the desire in his eyes was something sweet, kind, gentle…this desire was filled with something…something that made her heart dance with excitement and her mind whisper that maybe the fairy tales she use to read could be real, something she dared not say out loud (yet) but would think…
Love.
“I…”
“Can we kiss again?” she asked, before her eyes widened at the fact that she had interrupted him, and she rushed to apologise to him. “Gods…I’m sorry. I…inrrupted you…I was just thinking that I would like to kiss again”
She trailed off when she saw Baelor give her that kind smile of his as he looked at her.
“If that is what My Lady wishes,” he said,
My lady.
Not trusting her voice, Harleen nodded her head to his words before her eyes closed as he pressed his lips to her once more, this time the kiss was short but still just as sweet/loving as the first kiss had been, though this time when he pulled away, it was with a bit more reluctance. For a moment, he rested his forehead against hers as his hand moved and gently touched the side of her face before he pulled away completely (but not before placing two more kisses on her lips).
“Harleen, I wonder if you like to join me for supper?” he asked after a moment.
“I…Is that allowed? What of your family?” she replied
“I dine alone tonight, so you do not need to worry”
Alone.
Alone tonight.
Alone with him….tonight. (huh...it seems she finally had a reason to wear her pretty dress)
“I would like that,” she replied
“Come, I’ll escort you back to the campgrounds,” he said.
She watched as he stepped back from her, his hand gently clasping hers, and he ran his finger over her knuckles before he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a small kiss on them. Stepping to her side, he placed a hand around her waist and led them back to the campgrounds.
(Unnoticed by the pair, a Singer passing by took note of the pair and off the Prince's hand that rested her waist and how he looked at her with a tender look in his eyes. The singer smiled before they began to hum the beginning of a new song.)
However, things fell apart that evening that saw plans of dinner coming to a stop as Dunk, being noble kind man he was hit Prince Aerion (she did laugh when she heard about how he had tossed the arrogant prince like a rag doll) after the prince attacked a puppeter breaking her fingers (which were now slowly healing), leading to Dunk getting arrested and Egg revealing himself to be one of the missing Princes. The next day following Dunk’s arrested Harleen had tried to get into the keep in the hopes of speaking to Baelor however fate was against them as before she could work out a plan to get into the keep (after asking for aducence with the Crown Prince failed largely in part to the guard laughing at her making it clear they wouldn’t pass on her ask to the Prince) Prince Aerion decided to ask for something called a ‘Trial of the Seven’
"Trial by what now?" she asked
“Trial By The Seven. I need to find six other champions to fight with me against Aerion. If I can't find any, then they will take it as me being guilty.” Dunk replied
“Fuck. Where are you going to find five other people willing to fight against that nut case?”
“Five?”
“I will fight with you. That means you’ll need five more to fight”
Dunk blinked at his friend’s words. The stubborn glint in her eyes told him she was serious about joining this fight to help him.
“I couldnt ask you to do that. It's not safe,” he said, not wanting one of his only friends to put her life in danger like that
“You dont need to ask. You're my friend. I’ll fight by your side.”
“Women cannot fight in the trail.”
Turning, she watched as Egg walked into the room, his brother behind. Moving slightly, she stopped Dunk from attacking Prince Deaoun (her friend was already in trouble for attacking one he didn't need to add to that by attacking another), though she would admit his anger at the other man was understandable, seeing as the Prince accused Dunk of kidnapping the youngest son of Prince Maekar, to cover his mistake getting drunk and losing the youngest Prince..
“Pardon?” she questioned as she looked at Aegon
“A woman can call for a trial of the Seven, but she can't fight in it. She would need to find seven knights to fight for her,” the little Prince said as he sat up on the table
“Fuck…so were back to the start. Right lets um think…anyone got any ideas?”
“No.”
“Great...So there is no way of stopping this”
"No. Not without Ser Duncan losing his hand. A trial by combat was the best bet, but Aerion invoked his right to a Trial by Seven. The trial will either end when one of them yields or when one of them is dead...But I have in faith Ser Duncan's victory...I want him to win"
“Even if it means Aerion dieing,” Dunk said as he looked at Egg.
“When I was little, Aerion use to come into my chamber and put a dagger between my legs. He said he had too many brothers, and he would cut it off and make a woman out of me so he could marry me,” Egg replied.
Next to her, Raymun let out a poor, concealed laugh, turning around, Harleen slapped the other man for laughing at Egg’s words.
“Sorry,” he said, rubbing his cheek, not looking at the woman whose eyes were sharp.
Pity women weren't allowed to fight…she could make Aerion back down with that look alone, he thought. That slap alone would be enough to send him running in fear.
“...I’ll throw the fight. Pretend to be knocked down,” Prince Deaoun said, and Harleen turned back to the others, more than sure she missed something. “The Kings Gaurds are fine fighters in their own right and will be hard to beat, but it will be Our father and Aerion you’ll have to watch. Father is an experienced warrior, as for Aerion…well, he’s a good fighter, but he will use less the honourabl tactics to win. However, he is unstable...sees himself as a dragon in human flesh."
"A dragon?" Dunk asked, "How does that help me in any way?"
"He means you can always use his instableity aginst him." Harleen replied, "Allow him to believe he won, then strike against him."
"The Lady Harleen is correct." Deaoun said as he stood up, a hand on Aegon's shoulder, his eyes darted over Raymun "You know it's a shame he wasn't born a Fossaway, then he would think himself and Apple, and we would all be safer. Come its late, and we need to get back to keep before Father learns we are missing."
Harleen watched as the two princes leave but not before Deaoun turned to Dunk and asked to speak to him outside privately. For a moment, Dunk stayed where he was before he nodded his head and followed the Prince outside. A few moments later, he returned and sat down in the chair, looking a little dejected.
“Right. Well, seeing as I can't fight, I’m going to go ask around camp, see if I can help get you some Knights. Hopeful there are some out there who are willing to fight with you,” she said before she turned and left the tent before Dunk could say anything, jumping a little when she ran into Egg.
“What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the Keep?” she asked, her tone kind
“I want to help gather fighters for Ser Duncan,” he replied, “Please?”
“*Sigh* Alright, but then we’re getting you back to the keep.”
Their task of finding fighters was a little bit harder than she was expecting, as most turned her down, two others did offer, but only if she slept with them, which ended with her dislocating one of their shoulder, before she popped it back into place. While the other had backed away after she glared at him, still, she and Egg did find four Knights willing to fight for Dunk.
Ser Robyn Rhysling and Ser Humfrey Hardygn, Ser Humfrey Beesbury and Lord Lyonel.
Upon arriving back at their camp to give Dunk the news, she learned that Dunk had some success of his own, and Ser Stefforn had vowed to go stand by Dunk. Though she was a bit apprehensive about trusting the man, considering her run-ins with the man hadnt been very good due to the fact that he still seemed unable to get the fact that she wasn't interested in him at all…still, she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt in this case and hopped the man would be true to his word.
Trail Of Seven.
A thick fog greeted them that morning, and Harleen pulled her thin cloak around herself a little more, making a note to get a thicker one once she had the coin. Near her, Dunk stood looking at the group that had been forming.
“Thank you for coming,” Dunk said to Lyonel as he walked up to them, hand on the hilt of his swords.
“Your friends asked, anyway, how could I say no to messing up the Kingsgaurd pretty white cloaks?”
Dunk smiled slightly at the other man’s words, feeling a little bit of hope in his chest for the first time since he had awoken that morning. As soon as Ser Steffon and his friend showed up, he would have his seven fighters for the trial (he hoped they would be able to make it survive the trial)
“Raymun!” the voice of Ser Steffon called.
Harleen watched as the Ser Steffon walked up to their group alone, and she left something creeped up into her spine that told her they were about to suffer a blow, to the fragile hope that had been building since that morning.
“My Helm, please, cousin,” he said, and Harleen’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the man, noting his finer armour…much finer than what he had worn before.
“Ser Steffon? Where is your friend?” Dunk asked as he looked at the man, “We only need one more.”
“I afrid you’ll need two more. I fight for Prince Aerion and the accusers.” Ser Stefforn replied as his cousin handed him his helm.
“What? No…no You gave Ser Duncan your word you would fight with him, that you would stand by his side.”
“Well, our Prince won't have made me Lord otherwise.”
From the corner of her eye, she watched as Dunk took a slight step back at the man’s not wanting to believe that someone would trade away their honour for a title.
“You would trade your honour for a Lordship?” Raymun asked with disgust, clear in his tone as he grabbed his cousin.
“I know greater men who have traded their Honour for less. A bargain well struck in truth.” Ser Stefforn replied coolly with arrogance dripping from his every word before he pushed Raymun away from him
Ser Steffon turned to her and gave a charming smile that made the hairs on the back of Harleen's neck stand up. Under the cloak she wore, Harleen placed a hand on her sword.
“My lady, my success in the trial is all but certain, but a favour in the form of a kiss from you will all but assure it.”
“Fuck you, you slimy, mother fucking, honourless cunt face flea bitten rat,” she spat at the man (someone most likely Loynel snorted at her insult) “, Go fuck yourself.”
“Why would I do that. When you’ll be doing that for me after Prince Aerion wins”
“Fucking come near me, and I'll cut your cock off and feed it to you.”
“As a Lord, you’ll have little choice but to answer to me when I call for you.”
“I ain't answering summons from you!”
“We’ll see. After all, a healer can't ignore a summons from a Lord nor a Prince in need of help…can they? And unlike the puppeteer, your oaf of a friend won't be there to stop me and save you”
Harleen moved forward, unseathing her sword to stab the man with it when her friend stepped in front, stopping her from pulling her sword free from its sheath, before he moved so he was shielding her from the other men's leering gaze.
“It won't matter if I win or lose; you won't touch my friend,” Dunk said (he knew he might not be the smartest man, but he understood what the other man had just threatened his friend with.)
Ser Steffon gave her a sharp smile before he turned to his cousin.
“Fetch me my Horse,” he commanded
Raymun moved forward and pushed Steffon spiting onto the ground, “Get him yourself.”
They watched silently as the man turned and walked away before he mounted his horse and rode off.
“Knight me.” Raymun said as he turned Dunk “Knight me. I will take my cousin's place.”
“I.. can't.”
“Yes, you can. Knight me, I’ll fight by your side in the trial.”
“I…”
“I’ll do it. You go to the grounds, if you're late, they’ll take that as a sign the gods have decreed you guilty.” Loynel said as he stepped closer to where they stood
Dunk nodded his head before a determined look crossed his face, and he mounted his horse. With a final nod to the others, he turned around and rode out to the grounds where the trail was being held. Harleen wished the men luck before she turned and made her way over to the barn, like stutcher that over looked the place where the trial was being held. Once inside the barn, she began to set up a healing station ready to treat the men for wounds they would receive from this trial.
Peaking out from the barn, she watched as Dunk addressed the crowds, asking them if courage left the noble houses for a moment she worried that no one would stand and take her friends side (leading to the Prince winning the trail as he wanted when he asked for it) when the doors of the ring opened and out of the early morning fog a man dressed in Targaryne armour rode out onto the field.
Prince Valarr. Prince Baelor's son...but where was Baelor? She had't spotted him in the stands
Look at the man once more, she noted that the form was all wrong for it to be the young prince; instead, the form looked closer to Prince Baelor…Her suspicions were proven correct when the man pulled off the helm to reveal himself to be Prince Baelor.
“I will take Ser Dunchan’s side,” the Prince said, his strong voice ran out across the field. “I didn't think to enter the list; my son was kind enough to allow me to borrow his armour.”
A deafening cheer rose from the crowds, and she watched as he quietly exchanged words with his brother before he rode over to the other men, who had arrived at the ring. For a few moments, nothing happened, and then a bird cried just as a horn rang out and the two sides charged at each other, clashing in the middle (three of the men on Prince Aerion’s side were unhorsed, with two of theirs being unhorsed). The whole thing was utter carnage, and combined with thick fog, she found it hard to keep track of everyone.
At one point, she watched as her friend got a savage beating by Aerion, whose skills bested her friend’s, only for Aerion to get knocked away by one of Ser Raymun, who then got hit with a lance, falling from his horse, though he was quick to get back to his feet and quickly engaged his cousin. Turning her head, she watched as Prince Baelor and Ser Lyonel fought Prince Maekar, who was swinging his mace and for a brief moment, she was sure he had hit Baelor, but she brushed the thought away as a trick of the light, as Baelor hadn't gone down, nor had he lost his footing.
Another blew signaling that the Trial was over, and slowly the fighters left the field (Raymun and Ser Lyonel helping Dunk off the field). Turning, she began to lay out the items needed to patch her friends up on the table, half listening to Dunk swear an oath to sever the Prince who expected his oath (but not before complimenting Dunk on fighting well).
“Ergh…My visor is broken.” Prince Baelor said, his voice sounded strange to her ears, her hands froze in their movements as she focused on what was going on behind her as her mind began to spin.
“It’s smashed into the back, Your Grace,” a man she hadn't gotten the of yet spoke
“My brother hammers most likely. My brother is strong…huh… could you help me with my helm…my arms feel wooden.”
“Wait! Dont!” Harleen called as she spun around and stopped the other man from taking the Prince’s Helm off his head.
“What is it?” asked as he looked at her
Harleen didn’t answer right away, instead she moved so that she was in front of the Prince. Her mind raced with everything she knew.
His pupils were dilated and not reacting
His slightly slurred speech.
And wooden arms
She remembered watching as Prince Maekar swung his mac she thought it missed, that Baelor had moved out of the way in time, but everything she had heard and seen proved it hadn't, the mace had made contact with the prince’s head…sshit
“Raymun. Help me get his grace on the hay bales,” she ordered, as she took Baelor's left while Raymun took his right.
Once seated on a bale, she moved back to his front and placed her hand over the dent and poured a little bit of magic into helping to gauge the size of the wound…Fuck. Harleen felt her heart flutter at what her magic was telling her about the wound on the prince’s head.
If they removed the helm, then Baelor would die…the only way to ensure he lived without side effects was magic…magic that would mean pushing her limited powers to their very limit, if she got it wrong, then there was the fact that she could d…no she wouldn't think like that…she needed to focus on saving the Baelor.
“You’ll say nothing of what you saw here?” she said, her tone brokering no argument.
“What?” Egg asked, “Can you help Uncle?”
“Hopefully.”
Raching out with her magic, she wrapped it around the prince’s wound pressing it as hard as she could in order to keep his brain inside his skull before she slowly pulled the helmet off his head.
“By the Gods,” uttered confused as he wondered how she was going to heal this…for this was surely a mortal wound, next to him, Ser Loynel patted Raymun’s shoulder as the younger man brought up what little he had for breakfast, though like the others, he was unable to look away from the wound that would surely claim the prince’s life. However, any question they had on how she would do it stopped upon seeing the slight glow of her eyes and a green light twisted around her arms, making vine-like shapes as it moved towards the prince’s head.
Baelor, in slight confusion, reached up with his hand to touch the back of his head, only for his hand to be stopped by a small, softer hand. That pushed his back down.
“Dont. Best you don't touch it,” a voice as soft and gentle as a summer breeze said, cutting through the fog that surrounded him.
Suddenly, a warm feeling (like a lover's embrace and sweetheart’s kiss shared under the shade of a tree, where for just a moment a prince was simply a man and duty didn't tie him) bloomed within him, and the fog and cold that had surrounded him slowly lifted bit by bit.
With a bit of force, he opened his eyes to see a blurry vision in front of him.
Slowly, the vision became clearer to reveal Lady Harleen in front of him, a soft glow seemed to come from her eyes…eyes that had something akin to sorrow, and Baelor wondered what could have caused such a look in her eyes, and he longed to chase away the look from his lady’s eyes.
Blood
Blood was running down from her nose, and her fair complexion had taken on an even paler look. He went to call for the Maesters (for surely the lady was unwell), and he worried for her health, more so when he spotted a single blood red tear falling from her eyes, only to find his mouth couldn't obey his command.
He was about to try to call for a Maesters again when he felt something pull at him, and his world went dark
Letting out a breath, Harleen pulled her now shaking hand away from what had once been a fatal wound, slowly she turned to the others, who were looking at her with mixed emotions (Harleen didn't think…. didn't allow herself to concentrate on what those looks were, not when a man needed healing)
“I…need a needle and thread. I’ve healed the worst of the wound, but the skin…it still needs to be sewn up, and I can't use any more magic right now,” she said, keeping her breathing steady, despite the fact she felt as though she was about to be ill, having pushed her magic far too close to its limit...maybe even pushing it over its limit
There was a movement behind her, and Dunk handed her the needle and thread. Thanking her large friend (who didn't look as though he was scared of her, as others would have been) she turned back to the Baelor and moved behind him, where she cleaned the wound (it certainly would do for him die of infection after everything she did). Once clean, she stitched the wound up and wrapped a bandage around his head.
“Is he alright?” Egg asked
“He’ll be fine?” Harleen replied, flexing her hands slightly in the hopes of getting them to stop shaking. She could feel tiredness working itself into her bones, which she brushed off as she still had to patch up the others from the wounds.
“Why isn't he awake?” Egg asked, still worried about his uncle.
“His mind and body are resting.”
The group fell silent as the sounds of men approved their side, and they turned bowing as Maekar stepped into the burn (having made sure his son was ok.) with a couple of King's Guards. Maekar stopped where he was as he took in his brother's unmoving form, blood on his head…reflexively, his own hand travelled to his own sword.
“What’s going on?” he asked as he looked at the people (he should have told one of the Gaurds to go with his brother when they left the field)
“His Grace Prince Baelor took a very nasty hit to the head from a mace during the trial,” a man (from the looks of him, Maekar guessed he was a blacksmith) said, “The healer has just finished tending to him, my Prince.”
…took a very nasty hit from a mace…
“Forgive me, Prince Maekar, for not sending for the royal Maesters to tend to the Prince's wound…” the woman added
But Maekar could only hear six words…
Took a hit from a mace…
Maekar felt his blood run cold at what the man said, before his eyes travelled to the helem to see a large dent and crack in it, a crack that sported blood, his eyes then went to the blood (his brother’s blood) on the woman’s hands.
Took a hit from a mace…
He had his mace during the trial…but he couldn't remember hitting his brother…he never ment to hurt his brother (he…he just wanted to save his boy). Gods, he had become Kinslayer…he had killed his brother all for a son whom, while he did love him (and he did love his boy even if the boy drove him mad), he didn't like very much…
Took a hit from a mace…
“But if we had waited, his Grace would have died…he’ll be aright now. It looks a lot better now than it did. But the Gods were merciful today and declared the Prince still lives.”
At her words, he snapped his eyes back to hers.
“What the fuck?” he asked (somewhere in the back if his mind, he could hear his brother telling him not to use such words in the presence of a lady)
“Luck was on our side today, and the Prince will live,” she replied “He’ll likely have a headache for a few days, and he will need bed rest to ensure he truly heals.”
Bed rest.
Baelor wouldnt like that. His brother was always moving about, going to small council meetings, meetings with their father, dealing with nobles, the duties of an heir, working in the training field…but if bed rest was what his brother needed to recover, then he would ensure his brother rested for as long as it was needed for him to be well again.
After thanking the healer for her help, he ordered the guards to take his brother to his rooms and to ensure the maesters were there to check his brother over (the might have said his brother would be fine, but he would still have the Maesters look over him). Once sure the Prince’s and Gaurds had left, the group turned and looked at Harleen once more.
“What was that?” asked Lyonel
“Magic…old magic,” she replied blink slightly as she steady her self against the wall
“Are you alright?” Egg asked
“Fine…just pushed my magic past its limit, give me a moment for dizziness to wear off, and I’ll look over the others' wounds.”
Harleen stayed where she was for a few moments. Once she was sure the dizziness had gone, she turned and looked at her friend.
“Right, let's get to work looking at your wounds, Dunk. You took a beating out there…then I’ll look over Raymun and Lyonel’s wounds,” she said as she moved over to her friend
“I’m fine,” Dunk said, not wanting his friend to push herself (he wondered if it would be better for her to sit, as her nose had bled during healing the Prince)
“No your not. So shut up and let me look at those wounds; it wouldn't do for you to die of an infection.”
Dunk didn't argue, and he sat on a bael (that Raymun had helped him onto) and allowed his friend to look over his wound, winching as she placed something she called bruise balm on his face before she began to look over his stomach, where he was hit with a lance.
(Luckily it wasn'tas deep as it could have been, though it did need a few stitches)
“I have a question?” Loynel said after a couple of moments
“No, I can't turn water into wine, if that is what you're about to ask,” she replied, not looking up from her work of wrapping Dunk's injury.
“Oh, that is disappointing."
Despite the situation, Dunk let out a pained laugh at the other words, before he rested his head back against the wall, letting a sigh as he closed his eyes in relife at having made it through the trial.
Several days later
Baelor sat up in bed, looking away from the book he had been reading, and he watched as his brother entered the room. For the past several days, his brother had insisted on staying close (alternating between sitting with him and seeing his son), guilt till present on his face each time he looked at the bandage on around his head, despite Baelor telling his brother he didn't blame him for the injury he sustained in the trail, which was true, as with any knight who fought, he knew the risks he took when he joined the Trail of Seven.
However, instead of closing the door like usual, his brother kept it opend allowing for Lady Harleen to follow behind him, her healer's bag over her shoulder.
“Lady Harleen.” He greeted with a warm smile.
“Your Grace. I hope you dont mind, but I insisted on seeing you,” she replied, her lips curved into a beautiful smile.
“Really.”
“Yes. I wish to take a look at your head. Make sure its healing well. I know the Maesters have looked at it, but as I told your brother, I would feel much better if I looked it over myself…If that is alright with you.”
“Ofcourse.”
He watched as she walked over to the table and placed her bag on it, pulling a few bottles as well as fresh bandages, she then filled a small pot with water before she placed it over the fire that was currently burning.
“Right. How are we feeling?” she said as she turned and faced him.
Before he could replie there was a knock at the door, and his brother turned and called for the person to enter. He watched as a guard stepped into the room, looking a little nervous.
“My Prince, your son…Prince Aerion is asking for you,” the guard said
His brother let out a tired sigh before he nodded his head and sent the man away. Turning back, he told him he would be shortly (after Baelor nodded to his brother, letting him know he would be fine)
“So how did you convince my brother to let you see me?” he asked once Maekar was out of the room.
“Oh… simply told him you're my patient and I would find a way to check on you with or without his permission. I also told him I would help his son with his dreams. It won't stop them, but it will help him enough to find peace when he sleeps,” she replied
“That is good to hear.”
He watched as she took the pot away from the fire before she poured it into another bowl, which she dipped her hands into using soap to clean them, before using a cloth to dry them.
“How are the others?” he asked, his eyes not leaving her
“Oh, they are as well as they can be…well, aside from the fact I have to chase after them to make them take their medicine. Luckly Prince Argon and Dunk are willing to help,” she replied before she turned around with the items in her hand “Right, let's check over that head of yours”
Walking over to the bed, she slowly unwrapped the bandage from his head, tossing it into the fire before she turned back to him. Her soft fingers danced across his head, humming to herself as she looked over the wound.
“Well, good news, it's healing well”, she said as she pulled away slightly, reaching for the items next to the bed. She tipped some of the contents onto the bandage “Now this may sting a little.” carefully she placed it over the wound before she used another to wrap around it.
“That is good…considering it should have been a mortal wound,” he replied, turning his head slightly to see the Lady’s reaction to his words
(He knew when he walked into the barn it had been a mortal wound, knew when his vision had begun to fail him and his hands had become like wood…and then his vision became clear, allowing him gaze upon his lady's face)
“I…I dont know what you mean, your Grace. It was lucky the wound wasnt as bad as it looked,” she lied (badly), shifted slightly, the sun that shone in through the window hit the top of her head, creating a burning crown on her head.
“I know fatal wounds. I’ve seen the inside of the helm…I should be dead”
The lady turned away from him, her hands fiddling with one of the trinkets attached to her skirt. Sighing, he pushed back the covers and rose from the bed before he slowly made his way over to her.
“I apoigise my lady. I did not seek to upset with my questions, I only wished to understand. You have my word as a prince and a knight that words spoken in here will be heard by no other ears but mine.”
“And as a man…do I have your word as just a man. You will not tell.”
“Yes.”
He watched as she straighten slight, rubbing her neck before she turned and faced him once more.
“Fine…You were mortally wounded…you were dieing when you stepped off that field, taking the helmet off there and would have killed. I used what little magic I have to pull you back from death hold, risking death's final kiss myself…I did it because this place needs honourable men who fight for innocents, because this Kingdom needs more good and just Kings, but more importantly, I saved you because your family needs you here, because the weight of your death would have slowly suffocated your brother…I saved you because… because I…fuck”
“What?”
Noticing the tear slowly running down her cheek, he moved his hand and gently brushed the tear away before they tilted her head back slightly and leaned a little closer to the lady.
“Because I’m selfish and I didn't want to say goodbye to the man who kissed me under the shade of a tree in the meadow...The man I have fallen in love with” she replied
“Then it appears we are both selfish,” he replied, “For I love you and wish to keep you by my side always.”
It was true
He was selfish enough to admit he wished (yearned) to keep this Lady by his side, that he had wished to make her his since the moment they met. Wished to hear her laughter, see that soft smile upon forbidden lips of red (he shouldn’t kiss but would), to gaze into her eyes that burned brighter than the sun, more fierce than wildfire and were etched in mystery…to feel her body grow hot under his touch…slowly he closed the gap between them, and pressed his lips to her in a gentle kiss; her hand grasped at the shirt he was wearing pulling him closer to her as a sweet quite sound left her lips. Her hold on his shirt only loosened slightly as he broke the kiss
“Come to Kings Landing with me?” he questioned after he pulled away from her slightly, though still close enough to kiss her again.
“Only if you kiss me again,” she replied, smiling
Baelor let out a low laugh before he pressed his lips to her once more.
When the royal family arrived back to Kings Landing, the halls of the Red Keep would silently bear witness to every quiet word, every stolen look, every gentle lover's touch and kiss hidden under moon and starlight, every confession of love spoken in silent words and quiet words and vows spoken in silent chambers.
Until after many years had passed, Death snuck into the halls of the Keep and stole the King’s breath like a thief steals jews in the night, it was little surprise to few others how on the night the Noblest King the Kingdom ever had was returned to the fire, Death snuck once more into the Keep and just as silently as before placed its kiss upon a healer lips taking her with it as it left the Keep.
If one were to go down to the quiet underground of the Sept were the ashes of Kings and Queens are kept, they will find an urn of black and red with a delicate carved pattern of florals and vines, where an inscription could be found hidden within the pattern.
The Breakspear and The Healer