“Amongst the lush greenery of Highgarden and the Reach, the finest flower blossomed untainted by the bloodshed of war that polluted the Crownlands. Celicent Tyrell, the eldest child and daughter of Theodore Tyrell and Lia Serry, was one of the few young members of her house to remain at Highgarden upon the summoning of her cousin, Margaery Tyrell, to King’s Landing for her wedding to King Joffrey Baratheon. It would seem she excused herself from the duties of service to her cousin for two reasons: her sense of obligation and devotion to her mother, and an unconcealable disdain for the realm’s troublesome rulers. Though trained in cunning connivery like many a Tyrell, the good-natured Celicent found it unneeded as long as she stayed in her homeland, much to the chagrin of her elder cousin, who was said to have desired the calm, warm presence of her ‘dear Celi,’ who reminded her so much of home. But none could deprive the girl of her connection to the gardens and groves of the Reach, and so left her to flourish. And flourish she did. Short in stature, though fuller in figure with thick, silken coils of chestnut brown that fell heavy to the cinch of her waist, Celicent was a maiden round of face, her full cheeks and slightly tanned skin reflecting the image of a youthful and exuberant girl, particularly darling with the faintest hint of mischief in her russet-toned eyes. Many a knight and lad of noble birth vied for the affections of the knight’s daughter, but to the exasperation of her father, his eldest girl was as guileful as any from her house, and thus felt it her unspoken duty to insure herself only the best match. She was said to insist upon challenges for her suitors, whether they be foot races, fruit picking, games of logic or wine drinking, and oft served as their opponent with uninhibited joy. Nimble of foot, seasoned in harvest, witty by nature, and keen for a taste of Arbor red, it was rarely seen that a boy could see himself the victor of many a challenge against her, and would see themselves taking their leave greatly exhausted from a day of exertion. For she had all the makings of the finest of ladies, she was wild of heart, free of spirit, and good of being, and thus found herself unable to simply submit to ladyship without some degree of mischief and merriment. While her parents worked tirelessly to ensure a match for their eldest, she had gained the unspoken respect of the Queen of Thorns, and though she did not boast it, she carried it close to her heart, a prize that many a Tyrell girl would seek as she approached womanhood. The matriarch of House Tyrell would dub her the ‘little fireplum’ for her vibrant personality and rounded cheeks, and while Celicent would make many an effort to gain a more elegant alias, she could not help but bear a wry smile at the name as Olenna spoke it. However, it would come to be that the Little Fireplum’s ‘fire,’ as it were, would be the brightest spot of hope amongst the turbulent state of Highgarden as the favors shifted dramatically across the realm at the hands of those who fought the War of the Five Kings.”
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