“So What Is It You’re Looking At, Then?”

❝  everyone’s a  M O N S T E R  to someone.                      if you’re so convinced that i’m yours - I’LL BE IT.  ❞ 

––– the barbed and the bastard ; the eldest children of jonos bracken. @ofbracken

                     @laenahs || harold hardyng’s celebration

It had been awhile since Harry had felt at ease at a social event.  Ever since his legitimization, his schedule had been filled with ‘quaint gatherings’ that were anything but, ‘delightful evenings’ that felt like torture, and ‘modest dinners’ which contained more courses than he could count.  The load had lightened slightly after leaving the Reach soon after the doomed wedding, determined to keep a low profile (something that proved a smart idea, as while other were off being ransomed by Ironborn, Harry was at home in Stonehedge, continuing on with daily life), but as things returned to normal and people began to settle, Harry’s father had insisted that he rejoin the ranks of other Lords and Ladies in King’s Landing for the events celebrating the hostage’s returns. --- But as he looked around the dimly lit but nicely decorated tavern, rented out by the Vale’s own Young Falcon, he thought this could be an event he could enjoy.

Despite his fondness of surroundings (a tavern? felt very familiar), Harry’s blue eyes could be seen constantly flicking towards the door, with every coming and going.  He had expected to see her at the event the day before, held by Queen Cersei, as he expected Laenah would most certainly attend the proper, sanctioned event.  But either she had not made an appearance or the two had missed each other.  So there Harry sat, rather hopelessly staring at the door, hoping that her nostalgia for their shared time in the Vale would lead her to the door of a Valeman’s party.

He had no idea what he would say to her, if she were to show up.  He had left rather quickly after the wedding--after going back for her at the wedding-- so quickly, it was almost rude.  He had stayed around just long enough to count her as safe in his mind before he was off on his horse, sprinting down the Roseroad.

His eyes roamed the face of every woman who passed by, somehow wanting to believe that he had just missed her entrance.  But none passed the test, although the more ale he drank, the more they all started to look more and more like her.  

charlie hunnam as king arthur.

[ open starter ] [ post purple wedding ] [ highgarden ]

Some may say Harry was out the door before the Boy King hit the floor. 

Perhaps he was paranoid, or maybe he had just seen his fair share of poison. He hadn’t had the best of views of the proceedings, but he had heard the cries for help and the rush of well meaning lords and ladies to the table of honor, all wanting to get a look at what was happening, very clearly.  But he was not one of those fine folk, Harry had been raised differently than them, he always expected the worse, Harry’s strongest instinct was one of self-survival.  And while King Joffrey may have very well choked on a pigeon bone, the criminal in the back of Harry’s mind thought otherwise, and urged him to get out while he still could.  

Harry knew that if a pigeon bone proved not to be the downfall of the King, Highgarden would most likely be closed off, no one in or out while the perpetrator was hunted down, and he did not want to be stuck in here with these people, partially due to his dislike of them, but mostly due to the fact that the once lovely and precious Highgarden would soon turn into a powder keg, and Harry did not want to be the next casualty.  He doubted that he was of importance for any sort of planned assassination, but he thought it likely he could get caught in the crossfire.

Thus, as many rushed forward, Harry carefully slipped out, making sure to avoid any and everyone, to avoid looking suspicious.  The last thing he needed was one nosy guard to say they saw a Targaryen supporter running out and to lose his head over it.  Knowing the news probably hadn’t spread past the hall quite yet, Harry put on a casual aire as he approached the stable boy in search for his horse, spouting off some non-sense of wanting to leave early to avoid the rush on the King’s Road.  The stable boy either approved of his sensibility, or didn’t care much to think about it, as Harry was quickly handed the reins to his horse and off he went.  

Harry’s mind raced as he made his way out, head on a constant swivel and eyes darting in every which direction.  Where would he go?  Should he make a break for home? Ride hard and buy new horses along the way?  How long would that take?  A fortnight? More?---But then the thought came to him, he had been a ward in the Vale with a Florent boy, and he wondered if this old acquaintanceship could leave him with a place to stay at Brightwater Keep, not even a half a day’s ride from Highgarden.

Even with his hood deafening sounds around him, Harry swore he had heard footsteps falling behind him.  He continued on as if they hadn’t pricked his ears until the sound came closer.  In a fell movement, Harry had spun, pinned his follower to wall and taken out his own dirk.

“Why’re you followin’ me?--Huh?” he questioned, his paranoia reaching a new high.

Stretching from the Neck to the banks of the Blackwater, and east to the borders of the Vale, the riverlands are the beating heart of Westeros. No other land in the Seven Kingdoms has seen so many battles, nor so many petty kings and royal houses rising and falling. The causes of this are clear. Rich and fertile, the riverlands border on every other realm in the Seven Kingdoms save Dorne, yet have few natural boundaries to deter invasion. The waters of the Trident make the lands ripe for settlement, farming, and conquest, whilst the river’s three branches stimulate trade and travel during peacetime, and serve as both roads and barriers in times of war.

make me choose: @histruequeen asked the Stormlands or the Riverlands