* scythe & feathers

the blog contains heavy trigger warnings for adult content and is rated ( R/21+ ) , general warnings apply for the world of ice & fire with those more likely to be mentioned on this blog as follows: piracy , stealing , killing & murder , pillaging , undiagnosed mental health issues , suicidal tendencies , depression , death & loss , arranged marriage , and the bystander effect

a study in : last man standing , survivor's guilt , a mystery within a mystery , runt of the litter , protagonist by elimination , all who wander are lost , he was my home , & the consequences of doomed choice

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marriage was like being land locked , or so the iornborn always discussed traditionally westerosi style marriage. the iron born were not meant to have one wife , or so the story had gone from as many years back as he could remember. that the only reason the tradition ( mainly ) remained in place was the ever-looming threat that whatever king sat on the throne of swords would impose some sort of rule on them that would force them to change something else about them. but if he had to consider it with anyone the woman before him seems like the only reasonable choice. he quite enjoys her mouthing off about the topic to ---- some idiot who had decided to cross her in the great hall. the blond knight is simply observing the ordeal with a smile on his face , as the girl yells about some oddity of feminine right to not be beaten by her husband or some other information that he isns't quite listening to but , at least it is amusing to watch the exhibiting behavior.

leaned back in the seat his feet are propped up on the table , peaking a glance at the small interaction until he finds himself plenty entertained at which point , the boots are scrapped off the table and he makes his way to walk back to his sleeping quarters for the night. it seems as though however - his absence is noted. because before long he finds the back of his garment being grabbed rather roughly and as he turns he finds a firey woman staring up at him with anger. a wrath he has no idea how he has encountered. it. a pause , as she demands that he inform her of his whereabouts. she was ironborn at her core , as dangerous as their longships reaving the coastline. but able to effectively impose that fear with her voice.

if men were good men , there would be no need for war. when it comes to the reality of mankind , he has met few that he finds likeable --- even less that are mildly agreeable. but it comes to no surprise to heir of grey garden , that upon the request of his cousin he finds himself aboard a ship , storm clouds breaking wind above them , staring into eyes as deep as the sea of the old gods --- of the young knight before him he is confident in one thing , and one thing alone. this was a good man. maybe it is the way the sea salt seems to leave his skin alone , let it bask in the sun without drying out , left his lips soft and tended to. maybe it was simply that mainlanders were not often welcome aboard harvest , but the crew had taken surprisingly kindly to this young man... and if the ironborn could agree on one thing , maybe it was not so bad.

it had only been a couple of days , a quick trip from lannisport to pyke. and the sailor had often found himself wondering , if he was assisting in some sort of arrangement. blonde stood out against ironborn , harras was often the only one dawning the color. but with both knights at the help , golden and bright hair glittering in the sun , the sight must have been one for poetry books. he had grown quite fond of the other knight. it had been harras's first real interaction with one , while he had been knighted , the boy's should had always called to the ocean - so there had been very little instruction on knights and knightly duties. but every experience he had managed to have with one had been fairly negative until now.

the once silent world had become enraged so quickly , the red that they had in their visions felt amplified as it echoed off the caverns and trashing waves against the shores. they were rage incarnate. no matter how much they had begun fighting , they could not see eye to eye. they had become strangers over the years , familiar faces and features but no familiarity in tone , voice , or concept. he recognized every flicker of light in the younger man's eyes , every small furrow of his brow , the way his voice raised in a crescendo like a vast expanse --- a tsunami waiting to happen. and despite this , eyes as grey as a storm stared on , almost lifeless from behind flecks of blonde hair that had fallen out of place. waiting for the yelling to subside , if the young greyjoy was raging fire , harlaw's heir was a the rotting wood that fed it. destorying everything he touched from the inside out. no need for brash violence , or dramatic demonstration. all the cousins had wanted out of this conversation had been a rekindling.

and kindling it had been.

harras doesn't remember who threw the first stone , though considering the anger with which he was being met , the likelihood was that it was himself. that sounded accurate enough. probably mentioned something or the other about how maron despite being quite an adept sailor , was not fit to rule the iron throne. or more accurately , harras wouldn't like to see him there. the iron throne had directly ( or indirectly ) killed balon and rodrik , ruined victarion's reputation , rejected it's rightful heir in asha , and made theon go mad. greyjoys were the true ironborn --- but it did not feel like the drowned god was very much in their corner at the moment , and he could not afford to lose another one.