family, duty, honor.

“I – I never asked them. Before,” he said, his eyes still glazed. Casimir’s riverish gaze lifted to meet Celia’s as she took the glass from him, and his fingers remained there a moment – not fully releasing the glass, hesitation – but did a moment later. His eyes flickered away again, to the fire that crackled on the wall. “Didn’t ask her. Not soon enough.”

He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his hands rubbing over his face. “Twice. Twice, Celia.” Seven Hells. Seven Hells, how was he going to live up to it? To her? “What if I am just like him? Puppet on strings…” Lys’ plaything. His words changed to a grumble, and then a deep sigh. “Three times. Not a single one my idea.” He paused again. “Four. Can’t make my own choices. Just like him.”

"what? what are you talking about, casimir?" celia is trying to follow him, but she's still a bit lost. there's this haunted look in his eyes that frightens her, makes her worry for him and his wellbeing. she's trying to follow, but she can't quite do that given that he hasn't given her much context to his words.

the princess leans forward when he does, frowning at just how troubled he really is. "puppet? you're not a puppet, cas," she tries to reassure him but honestly, she can't be sure if he's really hearing her at this point. the king seems all too wrapped up in his own thoughts.

"twin instinct, i suppose," mel said with a gentle smile. truthfully there was something there. some instinct that could tell her if something was wrong. it happened time and time again when the two of them could just sense something about one another. she never questioned that instinct and it had never lead her astray.

their stroll meandered until mel chose a picturesque spot, perching on a small stone wall. tilted back, head facing the sky, she closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of sunlight. the air held the beginnings of a chill as soon soon and ice would begin to fall. mel wanted to savor these final moments beneath the benevolent sun before winter's grip settled.

"i heard our visitors from the crownlands should be arriving any moment now," she mentioned, still basking in the sun's glow. "maybe we can catch a glimpse of the two lords joining us. i don't believe i've met either of them. do you know a lord estermont or lord belaerys?" mel inquired, her mind perhaps seeking distraction from the weight of the castle's concerns. a prospect of visitors brought with it the promise of cheer, maybe even a small celebration. something they all could use.

opening her eyes, mel turned her attention to her sister, perceiving a lingering shadow of worry on her face. "you have something on your mind as well, i can see," she remarked, glancing at her sister. "is something troubling you?" the concern in mel's voice echoed the shared burdens that had become more prevalent in the castle

"be careful," celia says instinctively when her twin goes to sit on the stone wall. they aren't far up or anything, but still the young tully can't help but to worry. she's always worrying, always fussing over something or someone. it is simply in her nature.

"oh yes that's right!" how could she have forgotten about their visitors that would be arriving so soon? it seems to have completely slipped the little fish's mind. "no, i don't believe i've ever met them.. or even seen them in passing, for that matter. do you think they'll be handsome?" she asks her sister, giggling like a young girl.

@celiiatully

the riverlands seemed to teeter on the edge of turmoil these past months, an unsteady tightrope walk through uncertainty. every passing moment held the potential for some new calamity. the specter of another attempt on their brother's life loomed large, a scenario where lucian could find himself thrust onto the precarious seat of heir. with a royal bastard at the helm, some of their lords might seize the opportunity to advance their own claims or manipulate the situation to their advantage. the weight of the 'what ifs' pressed down on her. what else could happen? what if that did come true? what if something else happened to cas. what if….

anxiety tightened its grip, threatening to pull her under. to counter it, she repeated like a mantra that cas was safe, he was alive. her sisters were safe. her son was safe. progress was being made, she reminded herself.

just as in their childhood, mel sought solace in her twin's presence. she rapped gently on her door, then entered. "come, let's take a stroll. the day's too nice to be spent holed up with books. perhaps we'll catch a glimpse of our new guests arriving at riverrun. they should be arriving shortly." she smiled, holding out her hand to beckon her sister with her. “your book will be here when we return i promise.”

just as she is trying to distract herself, mellara appears. it is as if she knows, as if they both know that they need one another. then again, it has always been this way. they've always been quick to seek each other out in times of turmoil, finding a comfort in one another that only each other can provide.

Casimir couldn’t believe what had just happened. What he’d just done – dropped to one knee and decided to declare himself for a woman he… the woman he’d been meant to marry in the first place. It was hours ago, now, and the River King had been unable to take his mind from it. From preparations, from the conversations he’d need to have with Tyland.

And Arron. Who had, not days before, been in his quarters and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Begging him. He had to talk to both of the Lannister brothers if he was going to see this betrothal through to the end – without any chance of upset, without any chance of scandal. Casimir knew, despite their last interaction, that he’d give his blessing… but Tyland was another matter entirely. It wasn’t a matter of love, but of protection – and of whole kingdoms. Casimir’s heirs would have the same golden blood as the Lion King, and he wanted to ensure that meant something.

That while he was helping those closest to him, he was helping his people, too.

There was no plan yet to tell his sisters yet, to tell anyone – save his council, which he had not yet convened. They’d meet in the afternoon, and he’d declare his intentions, and then ask Tyland to a meeting that evening…. find Arron after, send for the ring, begin preparations, settle the political advantages…

It was no surprise that he’d found himself nursing a small goblet of Riverrun whiskey.

“Tired?” He asked, but when he spoke to Celia, he seemed worlds away – almost like he wasn’t fully in the room. Distracted. Because he wasn’t fully in the room – part of him was still standing in front of Guinevere, mentally stunned with the situation they’d found themselves in. “M'not tired, iasc beag.” Little fish – what he called the twins.

He allowed himself to be pulled down into a chair, and normally, the king would have thanked the chamber maid as she set down the water before him. He didn’t – instead, he sipped on his whiskey, lost in thought. It was out of character for the Warden of the Heart. “Celia?” He asked, finally, yet still seemed like he was speaking from another place entirely.

Lucrezia Redwyne giggled in the back of his mind. He’d have to tell her – and he’d have to brace himself for some sort of I told you so.

"are you sure? you look it. you look.. troubled, brother," she says softly. she can at least appreciate the little nickname he always uses with her and with mel. it makes her feel a little better about this whole thing, like he isn't completely unlike himself.

"yes?" she quickly replies, bending down a little to look him in the face. she takes the goblet of whiskey from his hands gently, setting it aside. she instead places the water in his hands, urging him to drink it. "you will thank me later for this," she says with a playful giggle, hoping to lighten the mood.