king of thorns

 “No troubles with the sword, no, Master Smith.” Emeric said with a polite nod. It hadn’t been long ago that their station had been one and the same, save for Morrec being a bastard. “Though, I have been unable to use it as much as I would like. My arm is slow to heal, but the balance of the blade is unparalleled.” He paused. “If you would reframe from referring to me as the King of Prickles, it would be far easier to conduct business with you. I can hardly stand the proper nickname, let alone your own.”

lady seaworth had been returning to the manor of her stay from a brief inspection with the martell’s maester. they offered their services out of pity after hearing of her brief misfortune with a sand dog who sunk its teeth into the layers of her gown. she accepted, wanting to make sure she was free of disease after not being able to predict if drool gazed skin or pass. fortunately for her, the dress was thick enough to provide a barrier; the one highlight of coming from the north, home of land so frigid you would not bear survival with the covering of revealing nor light material, strictly leather and furs. she thought the news from being well in health and unharmed would be the foremost of her day, but no, it would be the one kid who stopped to question her of her journey’s, a child well informed of the history of noble houses, including house seaworth’s traditions. first, there was the one, then more gathered, surrounding and listening in with fascination, longing to feed their imaginations just as she did when she was so young and starry-eyed, full of dreams bigger than herself.

“ they had a saying there, ‘ never ask the baker what went into the pie, just eat it ’… now that was quite the challenge, as the pie was the most scrumptious delicacy i had and have ever indulged in. i will never know a true dessert again. ” she was welcoming the children to her experience in pentos, just having finished with braavos when the previously raised corners of her lips slowly hewed and her speech fell short after unexpectedly meeting the crystal blue’s of an individual who comprised another memory, one not so amiable or gaiety, as it would bring with it the memories of an old, deceased friend. “ i must save the rest for another time, children. runoff and play, ” she knew to falsify a shining grin while making her demand and watching them run off, pass the now king, but her eyes remain dark and gloomy, exposing the act. “ my lord — your grace … ” a cough to clear her throat, “ it’s been so long. so much has changed since our last encounter, ” his wedding, “ it is a pleasure to see you in salubrious condition, leaving me to suspect you did not take on too many fatalities the night of the attack. ” with her suspicions of the ruling tyrell, she wondered why luck was on his side.

He was jealous of her, in some sick way. Emeric and Dyanna had been so slow to open up to one another, yet Dyanna has found friendship with Lady Seaworth through letters alone. Of course, he had never read them -- but his wife had mentioned several times in passing how much she respected the Seaworth heir, and so he had been able to devise that they had somehow become... close. 

“I am in relatively good health, yes -- but despite that the Reach’s casualties being few, it has caused no less pain.” Guarded, steely. Emeric’s arm was still healing, and though he was free of his sling, the arm still ached from training. The maester had told him sternly he needed rest, but working with his swords was the only thing keeping him sane in the weeks that followed the attack.

There were few times when Emeric Tyrell appeared visably shaken. While he had known of Lysara’s friendship with Dyanna, he had never been aware until that moment that his wife had spoken of her affection for him to another person. It rattled him, made clear with his steely eyes flashing in surprise. “I... appreciate your sympathy, my lady -- forgive me for asking, but... You seem to be implying that my wife... that Dyanna spoke of our marriage to you at length.”

— the young man remained in the same position, only moving his arms from his sides to rest under his curls as his blue orbs scanned the dark stretch of night sky high and mighty above the pair. the stars seemed to shine brighter that night than they had any other night he had spent in dorne. at this point, it had begun to feel as though he was loosing track of how long they had remained in this wretched place  - and he was unsure as to when they would be able to leave. his mind often wondered across many of the philosophical questions that have plagued the minds of men across the ages, though perhaps not as strongly as it did that moment. was their mother looking down upon her only sons, wondering what had become of them?

“do you think it possible for the peace summit to continue, considering the circumstances?” he spoke, his voice lower and more hoarse as he remained laying flat on his back, well aware of the men had begun to settle down for the night. whilst he knew that none of their men had considered this an attack from a fellow kingdom, he was unaware of what was occurring behind the closed doors of sunspear. there would be little use in their representatives remaining in sunspear for the sake of serving a peace summit, only for one kingdom choosing to accuse another. 

his mind trailed back to the ball, and specifically the tense interaction he underwent with king arryk’s hand. it was uncharacteristic of him to let himself get into such a dark place - there was no denying the clegane had hit a nerve, a question, cedric had been smothering for years, and he almost felt his mouth dry as he heard willem’s drunken voice, almost as if he were there in that moment. how odd for so many people to end up dying to get your brother in power… you can just ride his blood-soaked coattails until the end. “do you know of the dynamic between arryk and his hand?” cedric asked, a genuine question; if the lion king had the same ideas, they could be walking on thin ice.

Emeric gave one of his signature heavy, frustrated sighs, leaning forward to bear his elbows upon his knees and set his chin into one of his palms, not before running his hands over the hair on his chin. It was hard to say. Would negotiations be possible, now? Yet another faceless enemy – there was no way in the Seven Hells that the Borrowtons were once more responsible – had reared it’s ugly head, seemingly determined to pit the Great Houses against each other again. Emeric didn’t know if the realm could survive another schism as it had when he’d decided to pull The Reach from the Iron Throne’s reign. War had not happened, and it was only by some miracle. But could they avoid it again? At least then, the conflict had been of Emeric’s own making, albeit it had been born of impulse rather than calculated decision. Should war come of the Midsummer Attack, it could prove to be outside his control.

And control was something Emeric held tightly onto. He didn’t like not knowing what the future held. 

“Even with the circumstances, I…” He sighed once more, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly. He was so horribly tired, yet sleep did not come. Only the never ending voice in his head and the dully throbbing pain in his arm. “The summit has to continue. We have to make sure of that – as much as I hate to admit it, we are in this situation because of The Reach. Well… rather, we are in this situation because of the decisions I have made. If the summit fails, then it was all for nothing. As the man who had such a part in this, it is my responsibility to see it through. In turn, it is yours, as well as the region’s.” So much pressure, so much anger in the wake of a man grieving for a wife he could not even properly love her. Had begun to love her, yet the chance to show her had been ripped away from him. And for what? Justice had been served, but the hole she’d left behind was bigger than ever.

He glanced at his brother. “Arryk and his hand?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “I do not. But, with that said, put the Lannisters aside. Cedric – what… what do you think the dynamic between king and hand should look like? What do you believe the position should entail?” Emeric would have to chose such a man eventually, and… and he had an idea of who.

@cedrictyrell​ @emerictyrell​

When Helena first arrived to the gates of the palace, she was not surprised in the slightest to hear that her brothers were currently residing in their allocated lodgings. During their childhood, their mother had made every effort to have Helena and her brothers grow up away from the political intrigue of Highgarden, and therefore, it came as no shock to her that her brothers preferred to remain in the comfort of their separate lodgings rather than spending their free time within the castle of Sunspear itself. Helena was informed by a servant that her family had been offered hospitality at the home of a wealthy dornish-loyal lord. Upon hearing of her brother’s whereabouts, Helena’s next task consisted of discovering the location of this manor. From what Helena was told, the manor was about a twenty minute walk from the palace. Having been trapped inside a stifling and tiny carriage for weeks, Helena was more than happy to make her own way to the manor by foot. She decided to leave her personal effects at Sunspear, hoping her brother or a servant would be able to make the trek back to the palace and fetch her belongings for her.

Helena could feel the sun’s dry and glistening rays hit her face as she made her trek through Sunspear’s thronging town towards her family’s lodging. The air was dry, her lips quenched as she strolled through the arid terrain. When Helena finally arrived to the manor, she couldn’t help but feel a sense a familiarity as the manor shared a similar resemblance to Highgarden. Helena felt the corner of her lips tug into a small, faint smile; a gesture that had become so sparse for her while she resided in Silverhill.  

After announcing her identify to one of the manor’s servants, Helena was quickly directed to the room in which her brothers were currently residing in. Helena expressed her gratitude to the maidservant before dismissing them. This was a conversation that she had been waiting to have with her brothers for long while; a conversation in which she would prefer to have alone. Helena brought a hand to her stomach, a nervous habit she had developed as a young child and still continued to do to this day, her fingers fiddling with her silk robes. Helena firmly knocked on the door before entering the room. Her light orbs quickly caught sight of Cedric and Emeric, who both sat on opposite ends of the room. It had been over three years since she had last saw Emeric; his eyes looking tired and his demeanor quiet and somber. Cedric, who had also changed — his boyish face having vanished and instead replaced with a more virile feature — sat in a chair with a drink in his hand.

“You have no idea the lengths I had to go to find you halfwits.” Helena stated plainly, her tone dripping with hints of sarcasm and playfulness.

—   IT had been roughly a week since the brothers had returned from their week long journey away from the castle of sunspear, accompanying the procession of those that had perished during the midsummer attack as well as their families at the border of dorne and the reach. they had been so close to home, and as much as cedric wished to continue the journey to leave everything behind, he knew they must return to see through the matter of the peace summit. the bodies had been collected by house tarly of horn hill, a notable reach house loyal to their ruling sovereigns of the tyrells who were going to lay the dead to rest according to instructions. lord and lady risley had decided to return to their home of risley glade, following the shrouds of their only children. a part of him felt ashamed for daring to offer any sort of condolences as no amount of gold or land offered by their king and crown would be able to fill the void in their hearts. 

upon arriving back at susnpear, life had been one in which he had attempted to get back into a routine of sorts. it had taken some weeks, but he had finally begun sleeping peacefully throughout the night without hearing the sounds of shattering glass or lady risley’s piercing screams upon seeing her daughter’s snapped neck. the afternoon had started like any other, finishing up a weekly meeting with his king and lord garland redwyne who had recently exited the room when cedric sat opposite his brother. he had begun to inform him of his partnership with lady caerella targaryen of dragonstone, persuading her that the reach was not behind such attacks and asking her to intervene should she see her cousin try to direct matters in that way. the peace summit and a peace treaty was something he knew the reach still wanted to strive toward for the sake of not having to overly defend their long boarders, and if it meant working with a targaryen, it was a risk he was willing to take. 

as he was going to continue his update, he heard the door to emeric’s office swing open, without the announcement of a pageboy or a servant. switching his gaze toward the sound of the unannounced figure in a slight irritated manner, his eyebrows raised at the sight of his little sister stood before the pair. “helena?” he asked, almost more to himself than her, his voice unable to hide the hint of surprise at her presence. sunspear was a long journey from the likes of silverhill, and he had no notion of her arrival or her intent on joining them so far south. their latest correspondence included no mention of her intention on meeting them; raising from his chair and crossing the room, his tall frame soon pulled her into a tight hug, purposefully ruffling her proper, ladylike updo of curls. “you forget yourself little sister, if i am a halfwit then i regret to inform you that you must lack wit altogether.” he chuckled, letting go to take a good look at her. she looked older, more mature than she had the last time they had seen eachother; dyanna’s funeral. “is your oaf of a husband here too? must we deal with two serretts?”

next: @emerictyrell​

There was a courtyard not a far walk from his chambers, and when lit with torchlight, was enough of a space where he could sweat and swear and clang metal against fake soldiers without waking his brother or the servants. Even then, he was waiting until the sun set and Cedric proclaimed the atmosphere no longer to his liking so that he could slip away. 

His steely, tired eyes slipped upward from the document he was reading over, hardy able to process who was in front of him as he made to tell the visitor that they had no time for guests. Come back tomorrow.  But then he was gazing upon Helena – his little flower of a sister – and found his words slamming to a halt in his throat. It had been… months since he’d last seen her, but even then, he’d hardly been himself. His wife’s funeral had been a blur of sadness and anger. He doubted they’d properly conversed before he left the procession, save for a less than kind greeting. Oh, Emeric hoped he’d been kind. But Dyanna’s death had been so fresh and so raw. If he hadn’t, he didn’t know – blinking at Helena, he could barley even remember the dark-colored dress she’d worn before Dyanna’s body was put to rest.

Taking those circumstances into account, Emeric had not properly seen his sister in… three years? There had been letters, of course, but not nearly as many as he knew she and Cedric sent back and forth to one another. 

Emeric stood sharply, face filled with disbelief. Lord Loren Serrett would have mentioned his brother’s arrival, knowing it would mean Helena in tow. A surprise, then, perhaps? 

He did not approach the hugging pair, but did step around his desk, doing what he could to force a smile. He meant the smile, but could feel how odd it must have looked at his face, and it dropped away just as quickly. “Helena,” He said, bowing his head. “You would not have had to search for us, had you informed us of your arrival.” He looked her up and down, discreetly making sure that she looked healthy and unhurt. A journey from Silver Hill was a long one. “Is everything alright? It is… forgive me, little flower – but it is unlike you to not announce yourself, as it is for Lord Myles. The Serretts are peacocks, after all.”

His steely gaze shifted westward, thick eyebrows upraising as he took in the pained look flashing on the woman’s face. He didn’t need to speak, but she was clearly a noble -- it would be rude of him to remain silent. “Roses are more fearsome than they appear, my lady.” He told her, nodding to the red blooms. “You should be more careful.”

angelica — who/what is your biggest inspiration in life?

basil — have you ever fallen out of love?

calendula — has your health ever taken a turn for the worst?

chamomile — what’s something that always comforts you?

lady’s mantle — do you have a favorite comfort item?

lavender — what are you the most devoted to in your life?

lemon balm — are you more sympathetic or empathetic?

lilac — what’s your favorite thing that you did as a teenager?

mint — are you a virgin?

rose — have you ever been in love?

sage — what’s your highest level of education?

thyme — have you ever done something brave?

vervain — do you believe in luck?

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