plantagenet:

As (I hope) most people know, starting Wednesday, I’m going on hiatus whilst I go traveling for six weeks, so I wanted to give my friends and followers a little parting gift before I went. I will miss the internet and all its trappings, but I’ve a lovely group of friends on Tumblr also and I’m quite distraught to leave them. So take care, lovelies - keep in touch. I’ll be back before you know it :)

Our Endless Numbered Days (War Anthems for Doomed Youth) - A Robert’s Rebellion Mix

Spring arrives, and with it comes a new king and the sun. Snow thaws and the rivers run clear again. The mud dries in the day and the downfaced fallen may be pried from the battlefields, their faces leaving death masks pressed into the earth. But there are corpses that cannot be recovered, bones that will never be returned home to rest.

They will not feel light again. They will never dance at tourneys without thinking of ghosts. They will never forget the flash of violet eyes, of harp music, of Valyrian steel. They will ride through forests and past valleys where good men died and always remember the sounds of it. They will clutch the new and squalling generation to their breasts and pray they won’t live to see the snow settle new on their graves.

i am stretched on your grave, kate rusby / i am stretched on your grave and i’ll lie here forever, if your hands were in mine i’d be sure they would not sever

on your wings, iron & wine / god, give us love in the time that we have, god, there are guns growing out of our bones, god, every road takes us farther from home

the kingdom, jesca hoop / many are dead, the river runs red, ‘for my god, and for my king’ is what he said, oh, i came down to my knees with lips to his ear, my hand to his chest

battle for evermore, SHEL / oh, war is the common cry, pick up your swords and fight… the pain of war cannot exceed the woe of aftermath

your bones, of monsters and men / in the spring we made a boat out of feathers, out of bones, we set fire to our homes and walked out barefoot in the snow

all the fine young men, de danann / when the call comes again they will not answer, they’re just forgotten bones lying far from their homes

we won’t need legs to stand, sufjan stevens / when we are dead, we all have wings and we won’t need legs to stand

sorrow, the national / sorrow found me when i was young. sorrow waited, sorrow won… i live in a city sorrow built, it’s in my honey, in my milk

history song, the good, the bad and the queen / a storm of strings far away, the hangers-on saved the day, if you don’t know it now, then you will do

the glorious land, pj harvey / what is the glorious fruit of our land? the fruit is deformed children. what is the glorious fruit of our land? the fruit is orphaned children

crow on the cradle, kate burke & ruth hazelton (a reprieve for house stark) now is the time for a child to be born, he’ll laugh at the moon and cry for the sun and if it’s a boy, he will carry a gun, sang the crow on the cradle

  bring me my gun, and i’ll shoot that bird dead, that’s what your mother and father once said, the crow on the cradle said, ‘what can you do? well that is is a thing i will leave up to you.’

I also want to put in a quick rec for the lovely Sho’s gorgeous sorrow found me when i was young series of ficlets, which provided a lot of inspiration for this, down to one song selection.