seen from Israel
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gays will get divorced and make it everyone's problem smh
Do you also look at your enemy with such loving eyes?
DAVOS BLACKWOOD and AERON BRACKEN House of the Dragon (2024) 2.03
THE OSCAR DELANCEY AND DAVEY JACOBS UNLIKELY/SECRET FRIENDSHIP HIGH SCHOOL AU IS SO CLEAR
Kieran and Ryan reacting to the official Game of Thrones IG posting this pic 😭
Bonus comments:
THE PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN!
how i’ll sleep today knowing that we had a kieran and ryan reunion
Professional sillies
The Knight of Yearning - HOTD
Aeron Bracken x BlackwoodSister!OC
GIF Credit: terendelev
Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five
Summary: The Tullys hold a triennial melee bringing the whole of the Riverlands together. It is the only opportunity for Aeron to gaze upon Bellena Blackwood, but time is running short as both hands are up for marriage. Aeron, persistent to speak to her at least once, takes his chance.
Warnings: none; mentioned drinking/some alcohol consumption
Authors Note: firstly, ben = davos obvi. secondly, I have read all three of the aeron fics on here and massive credit and thanks to these writers since NO ONE else is giving love to the ethereal prince that is ryan kopel. so i'm gonna throw my hand in the pot. also, i haven't posted a fic since the quotev days (iykyk) so please be gentle. reblogs/comments/writing advice all welcome!! hope you enjoy! (Bellena pronounced as Beh-Lay-Nuh or Buh-Leh-Nuh) (also... let's just pretend the brackens did NOT poison the blackwood's weirwood tree... vile rumors lmao)
Work Count: 4.3k
Lord Grover held a banquet and melee but once every three years, a gathering and celebration of the Riverland constituents with invitation to the whole of the Realm, though only mostly Rivermen partook. Aeron had been to five so far, well technically six, but the first as a babe, so he did not recall much. This was to be his seventh.
Though Lord Grover was abed the last three occasions, it did not stop his Lady wife and grandsire from continuing the tradition, for which Aeron was grateful. It was the only time he was allowed to see her. To gaze upon her without the worry of being called a turncoat, or worse.
Bellena Blackwood was his ancestral rival, a younger sister to Aeron’s biggest competitor, and the most beautiful girl in the Riverlands. Her thick, long black hair and pale skin drew in many suitors from across the Realm, even rich traders from Lannisport and Oldtown reaching out to extend their own hands, but all were denied promptly.
Aeron’s Lord uncle talked of it constantly, berating his own rival, Lord Blackwood, as foolish for not accepting any for the hand of his precious daughter. It only pleased Aeron, each denial a certainty she would remain close, even though it was across borderlines.
Every contest Lord Blackwood gave meant Aeron would have the chance to see her again, but his hope was drawing thin as she grew older. Seventeen was still an acceptable marrying age in the Realm, but a year or two more would begin to press the Blackwood’s luck, as the whole of Westeros knew. Aeron was sure Bellena’s father would choose soon, and it made him sick to his stomach at the thought. A distant lord taking her as his own, bringing her far away from home, and siring his lowly heirs on her.
He had tried to face reality; swearing the girl off in his mind after each sighting and repenting his thoughts to the Seven on his journey home afterwards. But another banquet would come, and she would still be un-promised, and he was right back where he was years prior. An endless loop that was starting to affect him now, as letters began to arrive for his own hand. There’d only been a few, which was why Aeron thought his uncle had not noticed just yet; most like assuming the worst of the lot was early, and his nephew was right to dismiss them. He was half correct, given that. His uncle trusted him as the heir to Stone Hedge, and had graciously allowed Aeron the chance to choose his own Lady wife, but Aeron could feel himself squandering it. It made him feel a-fool, selfish even, but he did not want the girls mentioned in these letters by their Lord fathers. He wanted her.
----
They were late. Though Riverrun’s closest neighbors, the Brackens arrived at the banquet to find many a coat of arms already waving, claiming encampments on the Tully’s lush green. Aeron could hear his Lord uncle’s irritated muttering as they passed each, trying to find an opening to pitch their own tents. At the sight of the Blackwood coat of arms, a dead weirwood surrounded by ravens on a field of red, his uncle spit, the glob flying back to land at Aeron’s horse’s hooves.
“Even the bloody Blackwoods have already settled. We should have left when I said Aeron.” His uncle shot him a pointed look as they drew closer to their rival’s camp. Aeron could feel his cheeks redden with heat. He’d held up their departure trying on several sets of armor, showcasing them in his looking glass, to end up disgusted with each and how they fell upon his person. He had been knighted only recently and wanted to be presentable, handsome even, for the upcoming melee. He didn’t want to just look at Bellena this year; he wanted her to look upon him. He’d finally ended up choosing a set of silver steel with the Bracken horse risen off the metal on his chest, the matching helmet extending a short tuff of horsehair off its backside.
As they finally passed the Blackwood encampment, a tension fell as his uncle and the men accompanying them exchanged eyes with the men at arms guarding the tent. His uncle spit again towards these men, before moving on.
Aeron had felt himself slowing on his horse, now inching by as he tried to catch a glimpse of her through the open entrance, using the opportunity as his uncle’s head was turned away. She wasn’t inside however, none of the Blackwoods were. He could feel a frown forming on his face.
“Aeron!” He looked up to see his uncle twenty feet ahead, turned with the rest of the company to stare back down to where Aeron had stopped. Aeron hadn’t realized he’d fully stilled to gawk at the encampment, and his red face deepened with color. His uncle quirked his head as if to say, ‘What are you doing?’
Aeron gave a quick nudge to the stallion below him and he rejoined the party, issuing a quick apology, unable to hide his embarrassment in his look. His uncle mistook it for other reasons however, and Aeron almost breathed a sigh of relief as Lord Amos spoke.
He placed a hand upon his nephew’s shoulder, shaking him lightheartedly.
“You’ll have time to butt heads with Samwell’s heir later, we must set the tent first.” Aeron nodded quickly as Lord Amos gave him a small knowing smile, his uncle himself having a life long feud with Raventree’s Lord. It fueled him as he thought it did Aeron, so no suspicion was raised. Their party continued on for a few minutes more before finding a spot at the end of the camp’s alleyway, and they began to set up their new home for the next week.
----
“And though my grandsire cannot join us, I hope this banquet enough to satisfy and remind us of our unity as Rivermen.” Aeron could feel himself falling asleep in the back of the hall, his House’s late arrival attributing to the position of their seats, closest to the entrance. He’d heard the same excusing speech the last three banquets, the only thing changing the voice of Oscar Tully, which had not yet deepened but was certainly not as high as the previous gathering. He could see the young heir look towards his Lady grandmother, a Frey by birth, asking for confirmation. She nodded at him, a small proud smile on her lips. He turned back to his future vassals, and raised a small fist in the air.
“Let the celebrations begin!” The hall erupted into applause, Aeron joining them, banging his cup with the rest and letting out a loud whistle. Food was served and cups refilled, the conversation heavy in the air, before Aeron grew the confidence to let his gaze begin searching the other tables. He spotted Mootons, Hawicks, and an abundance of Freys before his eyes found the red and black party. They sat two tables away, fourteen men total, jeering and rocking each other as they drank, ate, and laughed. She was easy to spot amongst the muck. Ben’s back was to Aeron, so the Bracken let himself stare, unworried of being caught.
She was seated next to her father, opposite her brother, sipping at her cup and watching the men of her house with a shy smile. This was one of the few outings she was allowed to attend, so her behavior was controlled and docile; an expectation of her. She took a moment to glance around, still sipping, bouncing to the music that Riverrun’s ensemble performed. Aeron could feel his heart shudder, almost choking on his drink, hoping she’d look his way but also hoping she wouldn’t; whatever that could be conveyed as. It was embarrassing, fawning over her like a lovesick knight in a story. He’d barely spoken two words to her his whole life, not that the knights in the stories had any such luck either. She did not end up looking his way, disappointing and relieving him all the same. He continued nursing his cup, looking over the rim as he studied her.
Her hair was longer, but she must’ve cut it sometime between the last banquet and now, only a few inches added to its length. Wavy and thick, it framed her face, frizzing in the humidity of the hall’s activity. She wore red, an exquisite dress with the shoulders cut out, the fabric returning at her forearms with sleeves widened and flared to allow the free movement of her hands. A black cape with the Blackwood coat of arms laid pinned upon her shoulders, cascading behind her and most like touching the floor. She was shorter than him after all, and his own cape brushed the stone as he sat. He wondered how she would look in gold; if it would agree with her complexion or hinder it. Aeron felt his lips turn in and he chewed them, thinking, drink still in hand but no longer tended to. She looked so beautiful tonight, a woman grown, and he gazed on, unnoticed. Or so he thought.
“Who are you looking at?” Aeron jumped at his squire’s words, some of his wine spilling onto the table in front of him. Alfred, one of the boys he’d taken on in his recent knighting, had accompanied him and Lord Amos, the anticipation of the incoming week’s melee providing need of him. He sat beside Aeron at the table, leaning into him to look where the Bracken heir’s line of sight ended. Aeron remained silent, looking at his squire struggle and unable to think of an excuse, and for a moment he did think it the best course of action; pretending he hadn’t been caught watching the Blackwood girl. That was until the rest of his house’s party turned their attention towards him, all eyebrows raised up in question.
Aeron tongue knotted itself tighter as they all began to look where his squire did, even his Lord uncle. He could see their eyes drifting towards the Blackwoods, settling on their rivals. A brief silence passed before his uncle started laughing, cutting the tension and making Aeron flinch. All turned back with Lord Amos as he reached across the table, grabbing Aeron’s wrist and shaking it good-heartedly.
“The melee will soon be upon us Aeron. You’ll have your chance with the boy.” Aeron nodded, finally taking in breath for the one he was holding, shocked at his stealth. He was so deftly obvious in his infatuation, but he supposed the idea of him ogling over Lady Bellena was far-fetched in his uncle’s eyes; the idea of his nephew itching to maim the Blackwood heir the surer possibility. At least now he could look on uninterrupted, referring to that as the sole reason for his persistent gape. As the conversation settled against his ears once more, his eyes moved again to his rival’s table.
She was chatting with her brother now, nodding and watching him slosh his drink, Ben explaining a story in great detail, an inaudible laugh escaping her every now and then. As she smiled at her kin, Aeron felt his own lips rise with hers, mimicking her reactions. He began to nurse his drink again as he watched the two converse.
----
An hour or two passed, and he’d managed to bring himself back to his own house’s banter a few times, but his eyes always seemed to return to Bellena. Her presence alluring him away from his reality; this reality. Him being over here and her there, not close by any means but making his gut flip-flop as if he stood next to her and could feel her warmth.
The sky had already darkened, some men leaving the feast but most still present, drunk and enjoying themselves. Bellena’s eyes had started drooping the hour previous, the wine getting to her head most like. He could see her blushing cheeks from here, red from the over-consumption.
Bellena stood up suddenly and on cue he also straightened his back, almost rising with her. She exchanged a brief word with her company before turning, walking towards the exit. Before she made more than a few paces, Ben had jumped up, almost falling from his drunken stupor, lifting his cup towards her and saying something Aeron could not make out. It did not amuse Bellena, who’s warm smile turned to a grimace of annoyance. She shot a quick word back at him before walking off, leaving her brother swaying at the table. She departed, passing but six feet away from Aeron on exit, his eyes following her all the while. He turned his attention back to the Blackwood heir, watching him fall back into his seat as the man beside him clapped his shoulder, his Lord father speaking to him now, face stern. This was Aeron’s chance. All he wanted was to speak with her; know her at least before she was given away. Dull this longing in his heart. She may very well disappoint him and set his mind straight; she a Blackwood and he a Bracken, mortal enemies. Some part of him hoped she would not.
Aeron shot up in his seat, nearly frightening his squire and startling his chatting party. All looks turned towards him as conversation ceased. He nearly stumbled over his words as they came.
“I’m quite fatigued. I think I may take my leave to bed now.” His uncle’s brows furrowed briefly before shrugging.
“You may do as you like Aeron. Sleep well.”
The discussion continued, and Aeron stepped away from his seat, but halted as he felt a body rise beside him. He turned to see Alfred lustily finishing his cup before bringing it down again to the table as he spoke.
“I’ll escort you Ser.”
Aeron’s next word slipped out hurriedly, sounding pressed.
“No!” He glimpsed his uncle, who still chatted away, but the Lord’s eye was trained on his nephew, brow furrowed again. Aeron drove on, a feeble excuse pouring from his lips.
“No, you stay Alfred. Enjoy yourself.” He reached out, giving the squire’s shoulder a squeeze, a tight smile upon his face.
Alfred’s eyes widened with shock briefly, but his face quickly turned into a grin as he nodded.
“Whatever you say, Ser.” He sat back down, grabbing the wine pitcher and refilling his cup. Aeron turned back to the rest of his company, giving them a curt nod before leaving, his uncle’s gaze following him as he headed towards the exit.
Aeron shook off his nerves as soon as he entered the castle passageway, breathing away his anxiety and calming his heartbeat. He’d done it again. Perhaps in a more curious nature than before, but without assumption. His eyes trailed the hallway in all directions, but he did not spot Bellena. Each path led back out the castle and onto the green that held the visiting houses, so she could have gone either route. Aeron eyes drifted upwards, silently praying to the Crone for wisdom, to help him choose the right course. It was not a whisper in his ear, but as he stood there he felt himself being pulled to the left; the urge in his mind badgering him onwards. Aeron thanked the Crone quietly, and turned, walking quickly down the passage.
He passed Riverrun’s inner gardens, traveling by the Godswood on his way to the encampments. He halted abruptly though as he saw a figure standing in front of the weirwood tree. Although the urge to continue coursed through him, he found himself drawing slowly towards and into the old grove.
As Aeron drew closer, he’d realized he had found her after all, for it was Bellena admiring the ancient tree. His heartbeat grew rapid, his hands automatically reaching to dust his leathers and tunic, though they were clean. He stood there for a moment, just watching and admiring her, the skin upon her face luminous as the moon shone on the parts he could see. Her hair was almost too dark to notice, if not for its glint in the moonlight as well. She had her hands clasped in front of her, staring at something on the weirwood he did not see nor notice.
They were alone here, and Aeron seized the opportunity, knowing this to be the only time they’d likely get to speak. Their first and last time to talk. As he stepped forward, a crack echoed through the Godswood. He looked down, only now noticing the dead branch in his path. He cursed himself inwardly. Fuck. He hadn’t wanted to scare her.
She was not frightened however, not even turning to see who’d made the racket. Her voice was enticing, heavenly, even as it raised itself in annoyance.
“Ben, leave me alone.” Aeron was not Ben however, so he did not respond, remaining where he stood, unsure if he should say anything now. She was clearly irritated and he did not want to burden her further. He wondered if this had all been a mistake, a rash decision of the heart that was ill-timed. Perhaps he’d have another chance throughout the week. Perhaps he should just leave. Before he could make up his mind and come to a decision, Bellena had whipped her body around, hair and dress flowing at the speed.
“I said to leave me alone!” Her nose was scrunched in anger, malice all over her face. It drained at the realization it was not her brother. “Oh.” Her face turned into one of confusion as she stared at Aeron, one dark eyebrow lifting. “It’s you.”
Aeron stood stock still. The accusation was not laced with much displeasure, but she’d certainly seen the red stallion rearing upon his chest. That much was evident, her gaze lingering on it as she examined him.
Aeron was tongue-tied. He’d spent years thinking of what to say, how to start a conversation, daydreaming of it most nights. All of those went swimmingly, but reality was catching up to him quickly. She spoke again, breaking the eerie silence for him.
“You are in the wrong sept, Bracken.”
Aeron could feel his body almost breathe with relief. He had daydreamed something similar, so he went along with the script almost instinctively, forgetting all nervousness.
“Yet the old gods are not like to turn a weary man away.” She lifted her brow again.
“Weary of what?” He paused, before finding his footing. He slowly made his way over, before he came to settle but two feet from her. Respectful of the Lady, but also making the conversation private.
“Of a Lady such as yourself walking alone back to camp. There are many drunkards roaming these grounds tonight.” The tiniest curve came to her lips, before she pursed them, looking back to the weirwood.
“No one will touch me, I assure you. My brother would have the head of any man who dared to do so.”
Aeron studied her as she spoke, raking over her face, memorizing all its angles before glancing at her lips. She turned back to him, chewing on them for all but a moment while waiting for his response. Red and plump, their curve lifted higher as she noticed his silent gawk. He thought of Ben, what he’d do if he saw them together, and if he would have a go at his head. Aeron welcomed him to try.
“Is that all, Bracken?” She tilted her head just so, eyes going up and down slowly, surveying his whole frame. He could feel his heart stutter in his chest. Was she toying with him?
It doubled his confidence instantaneously.
“Aeron.” The curve of her lips turned into a smirk, her response swift.
“I know your name.”
Although it left him at a loss for words, he felt his own lips turn up, admiring her wit. A comfortable silence passed between them. Perhaps because he could hold some semblance of a conversation, or just the fact that he was not nipping at her heels for a fight. This was probably the calmest discussion a Bracken and Blackwood had in well, a thousand years. She turned back to the tree, and he turned with her, though he was not sure what to look for. She broke the quiet, her voice soft.
“It’s dying.” Aeron looked closer, before glancing at her.
“How do you know?” She shrugged, lifting her hand to point at the weirwood’s ghostly eyes carved into the bark, before setting it back down beside her.
“It’s stopped crying.” It was Aeron’s turn to raise his brow now. He took an even closer look, leaning forward. She was right, the blood that usually weeped from the tree’s gaze dry and beginning to peel. It looked to have stopped recently. Her next word was but a whisper.
“Pity.”
Aeron looked at her fully then, watching her eyes scan the ancient relic, sorrowful. He could feel himself fill with sympathy for her; the loss to her religion. The words came to him before his thoughts could conceive them.
“It is. I’m sorry.”
Bellena’s gaze drifted back to his, offering him a slight smile now.
“It’s alright, it was bound to happen eventually. Riverrun’s worshipped the Seven for a long while now. You have my gratitude though.” She nodded at him, another brief smile gracing her lips. “I suppose the hour is late, so I will wish you a good night, and good luck in the upcoming melee.” She nodded again, before she turned and started to walk off. Aeron’s eyes widened, almost reaching his arm out to stop her withdrawing body, but restraining himself. Watching her stride away, he tried to think of something to continue their talk; anything. It came to him at once.
“The weirwood still bleeds at Stone Hedge.” She halted abruptly, but did not turn back towards him. He stared at the dead tree stitched upon her back as he rambled. “It bled when I was a child, and it still bleeds now. I don’t visit it often; it frightens me a little if I’m being honest.” She tilted her head back, listening, one eye on him. He continued, “You may come see it if you like, if-if you’d want, to see it I mean.” He stammered over his last words, realizing what he’d said and all the implications that came with it. A Blackwood visiting Stone Hedge; a most ludicrous jest. He didn’t want to seem as if he was mocking her, he truly meant what he’d said. He cursed himself again. Idiot. He felt like hitting himself.
Before Aeron could process, too focused on berating himself, Bellena had turned and strolled back to him, appearing but inches from him, their chests almost touching. Aeron stood there, eyes wide and body vibrating in anticipation. He hoped he’d not just ruined everything; hoped she didn’t slap him, though he probably deserved it. Her voice, still soft and calm as before, reached his waiting ears.
“You have a living weirwood on Bracken land?” He only nodded, as he couldn’t do much else, his tongue stiff once more. “Where you’ve worshipped the Seven for, gods know, how long?” It was rhetorical, almost offensive, though he took no offense, only nodding again. “And it still bleeds and blooms?” Another nod of his head.
Bellena narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips once more, and Aeron’s gaze fell right to them. They were so close that if he leaned forward he could kiss her easily, but he would want her permission first. That was a necessity; he could never force himself upon her. He’d thought of it before, and it only filled him with disgust. He much rather preferred his dreams of her wanting for him as well. His eyes drew back to hers as her voice came again.
“Hmm. Perhaps I should become Bracken then. The old gods do seem to favor the heretics.” His eyes widened further at the words, both his brows rising, not sure he’d heard her right. It took a moment for it to dawn on him, but as her lips twisted into a smirk again, he was sure of it. She was flirting with him. His heart pounded wildly as her gaze ran over him once more, going from his eyes down to his boots and back. She continued before Aeron could stutter out a response.
“Sleep well, Aeron.” She spun on her heels, making for her final departure, but Aeron’s hand sprang from his side before he could think, grabbing her wrist delicately. Bellena glanced at his hold around her and then back up to his eyes, her gaze suspicious and curious of his bold action. Aeron loosed his grip quickly, dropping her wrist, not wanting her to think him too brash. He had no idea what he was doing, he just didn’t want her to leave, but he knew he couldn’t keep her here against her will. He cleared his throat.
“Goodnight, Bellena.” Her eyes softened almost immediately, her lips turning up into another small smile, as she reached for his hand now. She grasped it, giving him a gentle squeeze as his mind raced. He thought his heart may burst from the contact, the texture of her skin soft as silk, the size of her hand so small and delicate as he looked downwards and watched it sit in his. It left suddenly, her along with it. He could still feel the ghost of her touch as his gaze drifted back upwards, watching her go, hair bouncing as she walked off towards camp.
