Rhea shook her head lightly, a quiet indication that he needed not to apologize. “You need your rest as well,” she said, as this was not about her. She brushed his hair with her fingers and moved closer to her husband, feeling his gentle pull. The lady did not say anything else, giving space for her husband to open up and give words to what was tossing and turning in his mind.
The Tarly lady listened intently, letting Harlon speak without prompting him to go in one specific direction or other. She had begun to build some suspicions in her head given his demeanor in the past weeks, but it was different to actually hear him say what was weighing him down. Harlon's story was a complex one —grown up as a noble bastard, an artist free to pursue his desires, a man locked up unjustly for the faults and the sins of another. And then he'd been thrown into the position he had now, covering up secrets. Perhaps it was always meant to become suffocating at one point.
“Don't speak of what I deserve, Harlon. What I deserve is what I want in my life,” she spoke firmly, yet there was an undeniable undercurrent of love in her words. “I want you. I've wanted you for years, and I will continue to want you, mo shíorghrá. So do not even dare suggest that you are less than what I deserve or want in life”. Rhea held his face in both of her hands then, sharp blue eyes looking intently at his dark gaze. “We build what we can with what we have, and you've already given me so much”. He had given her a loving partnership that was so much more than anything Rhea might have dreamed of when considering marriage before. He had given her two beautiful, healthy children. He had given her a true home.
“What do you want?” she asked him then, her voice soft but steady. “Do not think about the realm, or me, or duty,” she added, encouraging her husband to truly consider what might help to lift the weight he felt on his shoulders. Think about what might be enough. Rhea brushed her thumbs against his cheeks and gave a light nod when he mentioned visiting Cedric. “Talk to him,” she reassured him that it might aid to speak to him. To his brother. “Don't worry about us, we'll be fine, my love”.
.
harlon held her gaze as she spoke, the certainty in her voice striking deeper than he expected. rhea had always been like this. shar. decisive. unafraid to cut straight through the doubts that tangled in his head. it was one of the many things he loved about her, even when it left him feeling a little exposed.
his hand lifted, resting lightly over one of hers where it cupped his face. he turned his head slightly, pressing a small kiss into her palm before letting out a slow breath.
“you always make it sound so simple.” he murmured quietly.
he leaned forward then, resting his forehead briefly against her shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment as if borrowing some of her steadiness. the smell of her hair, the warmth of her presence, it grounded him in a way nothing else ever quite managed in his life.
“what do i want” he repeated softly, as if testing the question out loud.he used to be able to do whatever he wanted really. the strange freedom of a high born bastard. see what he wanted. travel where he wanted. but now the idea of it felt so foreign to him. it felt so distant in a way he couldnt put his finger on.
for a long moment he didn’t answer. his fingers traced idle patterns against her wrist while he thought, really thought, about it. not about duty, not about the reach, not about what people expected of him.
“i want to matter” he finally admitted, his voice quieter now like it was something shameful. embarrassed that he wished for something like that. “not just hold a seat someone else handed to me. not just keep things running well enough that no one complains.”
he leaned back again so he could look at her properly.
“i spent years drifting around painting whatever caught my eye. i never had to think about what came next. then suddenly i had a name, a house, people depending on me.” he let out a small breath of a laugh. “turns out responsibility does not come with a stupid instruction manual.”
his thumb brushed over the back of her hand.
“i think i do need to speak with cedric. clear my head. figure out where i fit in all this.” his eyes softened slightly as he looked toward the door, toward where their son slept down the hall. “but leaving you right now still feels wrong…but if you are sure” he said giving her hand a squeeze. “i will not be long i promise”
he shook his head faintly.
“gods, listen to me. a lord of the reach and i still sound like the boy who didn’t know where he belonged.” he looked back at her again, something gentler in his expression now. “how did i get lucky enough to end up with someone who does?” someone who cared about him before the title and the lands and the money. who knew him when he was a boy covered in paint searching for where he would land next.
