Ofbracken - Bastard Boy

Charlie Hunnam and his back in King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017).

CHARLIE HUNNAM

as King Arthur in ‘King Arthur: Legend of the Sword’ | 2017. 

I keep wondering, how many people do you need to be, before you can become yourself.

Iain Thomas, I Wrote This for You  (via wordsnquotes)

laenahs‌:

Her seat had been so far removed from the throng of activity that at first she was not sure what all the commotion was about. It had started with horrified gasps, then shrieks had filled the room even all the way to where she was sat and then sheer panic had broken out everywhere. There was little deduction needed to assume that something terrible had happened but what exactly that might have been was lost on her as she soon found herself caught up in some sort of fray breaking out. Fists were sent flying, tables overturned and while everyone else seemed to have someone else to watch their back, Laenah found herself with no one. As calmly as she could she tried to back away from it all, eyes searching for the nearest exit as she did but to seemingly no avail. Instead she was left quite literally with her back up against the wall hoping that no one’s attention would turn her way.

@ofbracken

After a fairly brief and painful interaction with a northern lady outside the stables, Harry was, what most people would call “in the clear”.  He had his horse, an open road uncrowded by people fleeing the party and the opportunity to be off before anyone else saw him.  It was only after a few moments on his horse did the sudden vision of thick brows knitted together in confusion, and brown eyes flicking from potential danger to danger hit him.  Laenah.  She was alone.  No husband or father or brother to keep her out of the fray or watch her back.  And with barely a thought more, the reins of Harry’s horse were being directed back towards Highgarden, and the heels in the horses side dictated a ferocious pace.  Upon arrival, Harry could see that the bedlam had spread from the courtyard where the reception took place, calling out her name to no avail, he suddenly thought the task of finding Laenah in the middle of it all would be near impossible.  But he had to at least try.  Batting people away like they were nothing more than flies on a hot day, Harry made his way further and further into the madness, the crowds getting thicker and more panicked the deeper he got.  A flicker of green caught his eye through the rushing of people, and the breath he didn’t know he had been holding finally rose from his chest.  

“Laenah!” He called out, his words accompanied by a waving of his arm as he tried to pry his way through the throng of people.  “Stay there!”  he couldn’t be sure if he had been able to catch her attention, and if he had, if his words could be heard above the cacophony of it all.

Waves crash along Battered lonely lighthouse Tomorrow she's gone And if not, some, they somehow Are, these, hands, alwaysWell this side of, mortality is Scaring, me, to death

they made you into a weapon and told you to find peace

unfinished poems iii // s.z  (via petiteblades)

laenahs‌:

A feeling of being out of place was not something that was particular unfamiliar to her - in fact it was perhaps quite ironically the one certainty in her life despite how deeply uncertain it made her feel. Being from so many places and yet really none at all left her feeling untethered and as though she had been simply floating from place to place, steered only by her whatever father’s wishes for her were in that moment. 

Her mother had always told her that she would be a daughter of two kingdoms - not quite Dornish but not quite a Westerlander either - but she had never spun it in such a way that Laenah had ever found herself worried about it. Instead her mother had made it seem to be this gift that she had been bestowed, blessed with the chance to understand not just one place but two. ( Little had they both known that it would be four by the time Lewys Lydden’s whims were met ) Though time had sadly not proven her words to be true when so many seemed to deem her blood as more of a curse, never quite sure what to do with the girl who’s mother’s dark looks had erased her father’s fair ones.

It was events such as these that only made what she considered to be hard facts appear starker when she had no core group of people that she could easily slip into and feel included with. Even now that she was back in her father’s home of Deep Den things were more complicated when their land had been deemed part of the Riverlands and not the Westerlands. Stranding her once again in that so frustratingly familiar limbo.

There was something of a longing for a familiar face, one of those who had left an impact on her life. Perhaps there was only handful she would freely class as important to her but her mother had always said that it was quality over quantity that truly mattered. With Jeyne having found her place among the Ironborn and Mychel still within the Vale she knew that she would most likely have to face the remainder of the festivities by herself.

Or at least she thought she would until a voice that brought a hundred memories flooding back all at once, stunning her into silence as her gaze shifted to lay eyes on him. Even with her own sight as proof it still seemed impossible that Harry Rivers was stood before her and not simply a figure in her dreams or past.

Soft, tentative smile touched her lips with such gentleness she was sure that any other might have missed it. The meaning behind his words was not lost on her but she still found herself unable to accept that he could be talking about anything but the scenery that they had both witnessed in their teenage years. “Most would say that all kingdoms have their merits.” Words leave her lips like a sight, barely finding enough air in her lungs to exhale let along made sound. 

A shyness that feels so foreign around him creeps over her but she can’t shake the feeling that perhaps the two of them are more strangers than friends now. So many years had passed and she found it difficult to fathom that his views towards her would not have changed as time drove a wedge between them. Still with all of those worries pushed to the side, all she cared about was knowing more about the life he had had without her in it, hoping that the Seven had been kind to him. “How have you been, Harry?” A little pause settles over her as she remebers the last news of him that she had received.  “Or should I be calling you Ser Bracken now?”

“Always the peacekeeper, Laenah.” He sighed at her response. “One of these days, I’ll get you to share and honest to Gods opinion.  Just once I will get you to say you loathe something.” He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped with his words as he shook his head.  “But then again, perhaps I’m biased due to my time spent there--although one would think with the scars I earned there, I wouldn’t be, but alas---” He smirked at her as a finger crept up to his shoulder to itch the scar she had given him, before taking a swig of his wine.

He knew that it had been years since they had last communicated, and even longer since they had last laid eyes upon each other.  But all Harry could see as he looked down upon her was his old friend from his formative years, and all he wanted was to scoop her into an embrace, lift her from her feet and swing her through the air, just as he used to do all those years ago.  Despite her stature being longer and leaner than most other ladies, even at their young ages they spent in the Vale, Harry had always towered over her, having practically reached his full height by then, and he always loved to show this off to her, by swinging her around, picking her up, letting her hang off his back as he transported her to and fro.

“That is a deeply complicated answer, my old friend.  Perhaps I’ll enlighten you another time.”  He had never been able to lie to her, and with being unable to announce that all was fine and he was in high spirits, he decided simply not discussing it would be best due to their estrangement as well as their surroundings.

He groaned as the words ‘Ser Bracken’ fell from her lips, and as he brought his goblet up to his own, he quickly downed the rest of the dark liquid.  

“Call me that and I will be havin’ to walk away before even gettin; a chance to ask you how you have faired all these years.  And I don’t want that. --- Speaking of, what do I call you these days?  Lady Lydden or is it Lady H--Forgive me, I can’t remember your lad’s name.”  Unknowing of the man’s fate, Harry couldn’t stop the words, full of bitterness from slipping through his wine primed lips.

         i have scars on my palms and the insides of my fingers.                    there is blood in my mouth and staining my clothes.                             i have died too many times to count and come back again stronger.

                 ( are you proud of me, momma? are you proud of me, pappa? )

♛ ASOIAF | Regions ♛ The Riverlands

Much history—rife with both glory and tragedy—has been made in the lands watered by the river Trident and its three great vassal streams.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.