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Dragonstone was as wild as it was beautiful. Right on the edge of Blackwater bay, where it met the Narrow Sea, and it was battered by storms frequently. Harwin had grown used to it after the many years they’d spent making it their home, but it was a far cry from the balmy humidity of King’s Landing. In the days before King Viserys’ death the storm had been intense and relentless as though the realm itself knew of the building threat, and it made the children unruly and unsettled. The older boys in particular were restless, Jace and Luke arguing frequently. Their younger siblings bore the brunt of it, Laenor especially, mostly because the twins spent the majority of their time in the nursery (though Harwin was sure Visenya would’ve punched her brother, despite the fact she was nearing three). He’d caught Jace and Luke sparring in the halls more than once, and had told them off for that. As much as they were keen to learn, the yard was for sparring, not the castle.
When the storm finally broke, it brought with it Rhaenys, and the devastating news of the King’s death, as well as Aegon’s coronation. It was news that had not yet reached Harwin, as he searched for his sons, though he had spotted the sleek red form of Meleys and an uneasy feeling had settled in the pit of his stomach. There was no reason for Rhaenys to have flown to them without sending a raven first, which meant her trip was unplanned and that only meant bad news. Rhaenyra could handle her cousin, Harwin knew, and he would meet with her later to discover what news she brought. He was in search of the boys, because they should’ve been in lessons hours ago, though they always managed to exploit his soft spot. He’d not been fond of lessons at their age, either.
Harwin wasn’t surprised to find them out on the great sandy beach, letting off some energy. As much as they were Princes, and for the most part took their lessons seriously, they were still teenagers with too much energy and no boys of their own age to spend time with. They were with Ser Steffon, he noted, but the older Knight was simply watching, it was Jace teaching Luke. Or that’s what he seemed to be doing, as Harwin approached. He was content just to watch, it was important they learned to be good teachers as well as swordsmen, patient with each other. Unfortunately Strong and Targaryen was a fearful mix, and Jace was fast losing his temper with his younger brother.
Jace was trying to teach Luke a difficult parry, and Luke was struggling to grasp it. He looked tired - how long had they been going for? They were supposed to be in lessons that morning, but he wouldn’t be surprised if they’d talked the maester into postponing. Valyrian translations and Westerosi history were hardly as exciting as being out in the open air with a sword. He watched on beside the Kingsguard, waiting to see if either son would realise the session was over.
Jace swung for Luke hard, sending his sword flying from his grip where it landed with a thump on the sand, and then swung again, getting his brother in the stomach and causing him to double over. He yelped, but that wasn’t enough for Jace, who grabbed him by the arm and pushed him down into the damp sand.
“What was that?!” He exclaimed, not letting his brother up.
“I’m sorry!” Luke got out, struggling up with the point of Jace’s sword pointed at him.
Set Steffon made to move forwards to intervene, but Harwin raised his hand. He’d deal with this.
“Jacaerys!” He said sharply, and his son looked up. “What in the Seven Hells do you think you’re doing?!”
“He’s stupid, I’ve told him a hundred times how to do it and he just can’t get it!” His eldest son protested.
“Ah, no. You will not use that sort of language about your brother, and you will certainly not swing at him like that, nor will you push him down into the sand. He is your brother, not your enemy.”
It was rare for Harwin to raise his voice with his children. It was Rhaenyra who was the parent most frequently reprimanding them, always quick to discipline, whilst Harwin was generally the more laid back of the pair. Jace’s violet eyes were serious, as realisation dawned in him that his father was unimpressed.
“I didn’t mean...” He tried.
“Don’t. I know what you’re about to say, I don’t want to hear that you didn’t mean it, because you meant it enough to do it. Help your brother up.” He said, folding his arms over his chest, and Jace sheepishly did as he was told, helping Luke to his feet.
“Thanks.” The younger boy grumbled, brushing the sand off of his breeches.
Harwin wasn’t finished, though, and stretched out his hand. “Your sword.” He said to Jace.
“But…”
“No buts. You train with steel on the condition that you are careful. Even without a true edge that sword is a dangerous weapon, and I will not have you swing for your brother in that manner again. Especially unarmoured. Your sword, Jacaerys.”
Begrudgingly, Jace handed it over, and Harwin slid it into his belt next to his own.
“Father this hardly seems fair, I’m nearly a man grown!”
“Then act like it. I was a knight at your age, and whilst you have other responsibilities I expect you to act better than I’ve seen you acting today. You don’t realise how divided the Realm is, son. What goes on in the capital. Your brother is your ally, and as his older brother your job is to protect him, to help him learn. Not beat him senselessly into the sand! There will be days in his life where your brother is all you have. Do better. You are heir to the iron throne.”
Both boys had the sense to look sheepish now, staring down at their feet.
“Sorry, Father.”
“Sorry.”
“Mm, thank you. Inside now, this training session is over. Get yourselves cleaned up and presentable, I believe you both have lessons to attend. Don’t let me catch you acting like that again, understand?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Good. Now, thankfully for you, I’ll tell your mother about this. Just see that you get to your lessons.”
They made for the castle, heading out of the cold sea breeze, when Rhaenys appeared in the archway of one of the cliff paths leading up to the castle. She was dressed in dragon riding armour, her hair pulled up harshly out of her face and Harwin’s heart sank.
“Your Lady mother needs to see you! Both of you!” She called out to the boys, her voice carrying over the expanse of the beach. “You too, Ser Harwin.”
He frowned, resting his hand on the pommel of his own sword. “What is it, Princess?” He asked carefully as they approached Rhaenys.
“It is best you speak with Rhaenyra directly.” She said, her voice guarded, and Harwin knew it was bad news.