Early 120 AC
"He is dead, your grace," said Maester Mellos as he slowly shook his head
Harwin's strong body was hurriedly laid on the nearest table in the keep, being rushed from the training yard.
A wooden stake still in his right eye, the once tall commander was laid low.
The room was filled with those who witnessed the act, the King and the Hand were the closest to the body and the first to hear the news. Urrigon couldn't see the King's face but he could hear the cries of lord Lynonel Strong.
The Man was hunched over the corpse of his son, clenching the deceased's golden cloak, the King putting a hand on his back. Urrigon watched this all from the corner of the room, two Kingsguard holding his shoulders, Ser Criston Cole and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Harrold Westerling.
Their grip firm.
His mother stood by his siblings on the lefts side of the room ,her green eyes darted towards to his direction frequently, filled with fear and worry. Aegon stood by her seemingly unbothered and bored but Urigon could see the slight shaking of his hands. Aemond put up a brave front, his face in a scowl but his eyes didn't have the same fierceness. Daeron was sent away alongside Helena,the little boy vomiting and having to be escorted away by Ser Rickard Thorne, his with sister with him.
On the right side where his nephews, Jacaerys and Lucerys. Both were inconsolable, faces drenched in tears, crying into each other arms. They made a louder commotion then Daeron did but were not sent away, the King did not have the heart to. Their wails of misery constant.
"My son is dead…"said Llonyel Strong,his broad shoulders heaving up and down,his form trembling,"My son…is dead"
Urrigon noticed that Larys Strong, the corpses brother was absent. Mayhaps his twisted body prevented him from attending or he saw the farce of it all and waned no part of it.
"My apologies Lord Strong", he said. Despite the condolences his words held no warmth.
The sniveling Lord paused his endless mourning and turned his head to gaze at him, "Apologies?…my son is dead and you APOLOGIZE!YOU DAM STRANGER SPAWN!"
Lord Strong lunged at Urigon, frothing at the mouth, both hands clawing for the princes neck. Both Kingsuards moved to restrain the Lord, grabbing his arms.
"You forget yourself Lord Strong, he is a prince!" commanded Ser Criston.
"Cease your actions at once, Lord Strong you are the Hand of the KING!" said the Lord Commander Westerling.
"He murdered my boy! He killed him for all to see!", Lyonel screamed in rage fighting and pushing against the Kingsguard.
Urrigon heard his mother's hurried footsteps before she stood infront of him, her body attempting to hide his form ,while Aegon and Aemond flanked right and left of him. Both boy's visibly nervous.
Dark amethyst and light emerald eyes met the Hands brown. He could see it, the grief of losing a son, the rage of having the murderer just a few feet away from you or was he mad for his grandchildren sake?
Yes, Urrigon held no pity for the man. For years he lauded around the red keep, feigning a mask of duty and honour.
But where was his honour when the first bastard popped out?Jacerys,Lucerys and now even Joffrey.
It was his duty as Hand to assist the King and steer him to reason,instead the pompous lord of harrenhall was just as putrid as its creator Harren the black.
They named his grandfather Otto Hightower as a conniving rat when he was hand and celebrated when he was banished. He had heard all the curses cast upon him, spat on his name and watched as the King did nothing o dispel them.
Urrigon heart did not tremble with regret but with rage, seven dam the whole Strong line! He had corrected the stain on his family and he will not pretend like he had sinned!
He would have his blood rule! Bastards on the Iron throne! Every dishonour rewarded! Nay!
He pushed his mother aside and stepped into the range of cur, restrained as he was by the two of the Kingsguard.
"You mistake me Lord Strong, I apologized to a father losing his son not for the consequences for his son's slothfulness", said Urrigon though his face held no expression his eyes conveyed his contempt to the pathetic figure.
Rage took Lord Lyonel once again, he surged forward with renewed strength screaming a wordless cry, casting himself against the restraint of the Kingsguard, heedless of sword or shield. Spittle flew from his lips, and his eyes, red-rimmed with fury, fixed only on the prince beyond them.
"Lord Strong!", came Ser Harrold Westerling's bark, he seized Lyonel's arm and wrestled with him, boots scraping over stone. Attempting to restrain the lord without harming him.
"You were warned and warned again," said Ser Criston Cole, his voice harsh and cold.
With brutal precision, Ser Criston's mailed hand clamped down upon Lyonel's shoulder and wrenched him to the ground. The lord's face struck the floor with a sickening crack, a cracking was heard across the flagstones.
Ser Criston did not relent. He drove a knee into Lyonel's back and leaned in, so close the fallen lord could smell the leather and oil on his breath.
"A poor sire breeds poorer sons," Criston whispered, his voice laced with venom. "One dead and rotting, the other crawling like a worm".
From the right came the sound a scream,Urrigon head turned and saw Jacerys charging at him,eyes red and teary he reared his trembling hand holding a dagger no longer than a child's forearm.
"YOU KILLED HIM!YOU KILLED MY FA–"
But Aegon's own fist smashed into the boy's pug-nosed face, the momentum moving against Jacaerys turning him mid-stride and sending him sprawling into the ground.
His head struck stone and the dagger clattered all from his fingers towards Urrigon's feet. Jacaery grabbed his face and let out a sob.
Aegon held his own fist, grimacing in pain.
Lucerys stood frozen watching as his brother was taken down, watching as Jacaerys writhed on the ground, his sobs muffled by his palms and yet he did not move.
He couldn't. For his eyes locked onto another's. Aemond leaned ever so slightly forward his mouth curling into a cruel, knowing sneer fixing on Lucerys like a spear point. He said nothing. He didn't have to. The message was plain in the look he gave.
Try it, bastard. Just try.
Urrigon picked up the clattered blade infront of his feet,"Valyrian steel?"
He bended his knees to lower himself closer to Jacey's, auburn hair covering half of his face, his emerald eye met the falseborns brown, "And what words spilled from your lips? Something about a father?"
Bastards are said to be born from lust, lies, and weakness and as such, they are said to be wanton and treacherous by nature. It seems that that was true.
Aegon laughed first, loud and unkind and Aemond was quick to follow joining him, his was sharper, colder and more deliberate. Their laughter mingled together, mocking, merciless and rose above Jacaerys muffled sobs and the soft, broken sniffles of Lucerys, who stood stricken, tears clinging to his lashes.
"SILENCE!", roared out the King. He had finally made action, turning to all the occupants of the room.
"Ser Criston," he commanded, pointing a trembling finger, "release Lord Strong at once!"
Ser Criston Cole obeyed, though not without pressing his knee deeper into Lyonel's back—one last indignity, deliberate and cruel. Only then did he rise and step away, gauntleted hands brushing against his white cloak as if wiping filth from silk.
Lyonel Strong groaned as he pulled himself up, his face bloodied, pride more so. The fire had gone from him now. He bowed his head low, his clenched fists shaking at his sides.
"You grieve," said the King, softer now but no less firm, "I know it. My heart breaks for your loss, Lyonel. But you are my Hand, and in this hall, you will remember yourself."
Lyonel nodded mutely, eyes downcast, jaw clenched so tight it seemed it might shatter.
"And you!" the king thundered again, turning like a storm upon Urrigon.
The boy did not flinch.
"You of all people should bow your head and beg your lord's forgiveness," Viserys spat, voice thick with disbelief.
"Viserys, wai—" came Queen Alicent's voice, quick and anxious, her green dress rustling as she stepped forward.
"Silence, woman!" the king barked without turning. "Your son has done this,your son!"
Urrigon gripped the valyrian blade tightly by his side but looked calmly at his father, "Your grace, what have I done that has caused your ire?"
"You dare ask such a thing !?" Viserys was upon him, though Urrigon was tall the King was a man grown he looked "A man is dead and you dare!?"
"Your grace, how is it that I, a boy of a mere twelve namedays could murder Ser Harwin who is,no was, known as one of the strongest man in the seven kingdoms" said Urrigon bowed his head slightly unable to meet his fathers eyes.
He did not trust them.
Before the King could respond Urrigon continued, "Unless you say that Ser Harwin's reputation was unwarranted, that he lost his life not due to his own folly but to a twelve nameday boy, who is still green in all matters of combat."
The King stood silent, his expression stricken. He looked towards Lyonel and his grandchildren Jacaerys and Lucerys.
"It was a accident Husband, we all saw what happened", said Alicent with a renewed firmness," It was a tragedy but it was by no means our son's fault".
Ser Criston spoke out next in turn, "Your grace I saw it with my own eyes, Harwin simply made a mistake that cost him to dearly".
"You dare say my heir's death is a common MISTAKE SER?"screamed Lord Strong.
"No..", the King finally spoke, "It was a tragedy, that we all grieve for Lyonel"
"This is a injustice! After all the years I've served you! After all of that and you will not even bother giving me this one thing? Justice for my son? The commander for YOUR gold cloaks!?"
"Justice for what Lord Strong? You would have my son, the prince punished for a mere training accident? What message would that send the realm? That a common lord is equal to House Targaryen?", said Alicent, her voice covered with warmth that barely hid the venom of her words.
Lord Strong looked around the room, he saw the risen form of Jacaerys being lifted up by his brother Lucerys by the shoulder, both downtrodden.
He saw both the Kingsguards expression, both of them impassive as if awaiting a order from the King to cut him down.
He looked to th King, the man he served and saw only silent pleading in his gaze to stand down.
Then his eyes gravitated towards Urrigons. The prince was still in his training attire like his brothers and nephews, auburn hair frizzled and in a mess but those eyes weren't like a boy his age should be.
They held satisfaction,not one of wickedness but of self righteous piety.
"Viserys,no. Your grace, I apologize for my conduct", bowed Lyonel Strong.
The King responded"It is alright Lyonel, we can mov–"
"No your grace, I acted in a manner unfit of my status as your hand", He took the pin off his chest, located by his right breast and let it fall to the ground. "I resign your grace, my son's body needs attending, my boy deserves to be buried where he was born, Harrenhall".
"Lyonel, lets not make any hasty decisions, we can still fix this!"
The Lord of Harrenhall did not answer but moved past the King and walked towards the exit of the room.
"Lord Strong", said Urrigon as he called to the man.
The Lord stopped his tracks by the door but did not turn.
"The Seven be with you…"