I Like The Sea: We Understand One Another. It Is Always Yearning, Sighing For Something It Cannot Have;

                    @sarraheddle || Inn at the Crossroads

The thought had come to him whilst sitting in the dining hall of Stonehedge, listening to and interrupting his half-sisters’ bickering.  He wished that this wasn’t all his family.  He wished his mother was still around.  He wished his life had been simple with a mother and a normal father.  He wished he didn’t have to deal with Barbara’s withering looks any time he dared to take a breath too loudly, or chew too noisily.  

It was then, when a memory he hadn’t perused for several years, came to the forefront of his mind.  It was a memory of his scrawny ass sat outside a door closed to him, being told it would not be appropriate for him to be inside.  It was a memory of screams and groans that seemed to be endless, until finally they were replaced with the screeching cries of a newborn.  It was his mother letting him name his baby sister (he had chosen Visenya, having recently been told of the dragon-riding Queen by patron of the brothel).  His mother told him it was a perfect, strong name, and that little baby Visenya would need the strength for her travels, as she would be living with another family.  “Just like all those fancy lords and ladies do” she explained, but also telling Harry that while Visenya would always be his little sister, he may never seen her again.  At only 11 years, Harry did not understand, and he could feel tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, but as he told himself to be the man of the family, to be strong for his mother, he stopped.  And that was the second to last time Harry ever cried.

He was brought back from his memory as Barbara barbed him with some searing insult of his lack of intelligence, inability to pay attention to their conversation, or something of the like.  But Harry couldn’t find it in him to care.  He had never gone looking for his sister, because what would have been the use?  He had nothing to offer, except perhaps the shattering of what she thought was her own history.  But now?  Now he could offer her stability, or perhaps even a position, if she so craved it.  Now he didn’t feel as if finding and meeting her would only be for his benefit.  So he set out to find her.

It had been hard, seeing as even if his mother had told him the details, there is no way that he remembered it over two decades later.  So he started with the brothel, finding any of his mother’s old friends that were still in work or even still alive, and charming the information out of them.  Although, that part wasn’t hard.  Many of them still remembered him and his time spent patrolling the rooms of the brothel, threatening to beat any man who laid an unkind hand on the women.  It also didn’t hurt that with his newfound status he was able to pay them generously for their information.  But even then, he didn’t turn up much that led to anything.  He got no names, only vague descriptions.  They were from the Riverlands, although no idea where, and they were bakers.  Nothing more.

But finally, he found the puzzle piece he was missing, because he simply hadn’t thought it possible.  One of the ladies mentioned that the old proprieter of the brothel was still around (something Harry found surprising as he remembered her as impossibly old even when he was a child all those years ago), and with her usually taking care of the women who found themselves with child either by giving them a concoction or sorting something out, of course she would have the information he so desperately looked for.  And even more surprisingly, she remembered every bit of information.  It got a little tricky once he had found out she had already married and changed her name, but after asking kindly around, Harry found what he needed to know.

And that is how he found himself sitting on a rickety stool in the Inn at the Crossroads, eyes searching every feminine face for a resemblance, but found himself disappointed, until a harried woman came out from the kitchens, hair blonde as his pulled back to reveal a face that resembled his their mother’s so closely that it had quite felt like someone had taken a fist to his gut.  It had been near upon two decades since he had seen that face, and he could feel the painful nostalgia building inside him already.  He had thought the hard part was finding her, but now he realized that was no longer the case.

Despite having thought of what exactly to say to her, Harry’s mouth was now dry, and his tongue was like lead.  

Walking up to the bar, he smiled politely at her, biting back the urge to cut straight to the point, ever the tactless politician.  But instead, “Hello, Miss---Bother you for a mug of ale?”

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.

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

Headcanon meme~

Put a symbol (or several) and a character/characters in my ask box, and I’ll give you a headcanon.  Yes.  Do it.

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trc + richard siken;;

wishbone + kavinsky

❝  i cannot b e l i e v e                           that we are so  p o o r l y  made as  t h a t.  ❞

–– house bracken of stone hedge ; the river kings of old.

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

the reason i sin is because there’s a stairway to heaven and a highway to hell and i sure as shit ain’t climbin no stairs