rhea-florent

[rhea-florent]

Rhea’s eyes followed the idle path of Laena’s fingers against the rose petals, a part of her wondering whether the gesture was unconscious or designed to showcase softness. It was in Rhea's nature to suspect, to consider everything might be carefully calculated. Either way, it suited the king's mistress —that appearance of grace and effortless gentleness. “You speak like someone whose heart belongs in the country,” she said, folding her fan again with a soft clap of its ribs. “I imagine you are enjoying Hollywell, right? I’ve not been since the king granted it, but it must be a pleasant space. It must be, if it's been touched by your careful hand”. Her voice held no edge or veiled meaning. It was only an observation. A woman who once diligently crafted the most beautiful gowns in all the Reach had to place as much care in every aspect of her life. Even by Laena's own admission, she found solace in caring for others.

At the mention of her ease in court, Rhea offered a faint nod. Her lips tugged up into a half-smirk, a smile that was almost unreadable in its intent, but not unfriendly. “You learn quickly when you must,” she said simply. Before Cedric's time, the court had never granted her much kindness, not even with her father’s name, since she had been tainted by her mother’s Ironborn blood. She could still recall the eyes that followed her as a girl during the visits to Highgarden, equally curious, cautious, and cold gazes. “The Reach rarely extends warmth to anything it deems unfamiliar,” she added lightly, as though commenting on the weather. It was an attitude Rhea was not free from, either. If anything, she participated in it often, as her own caution and suspicious nature had been born out of survival more than anything else. “Braavosi brides, dragonblooded women, daughters of the Iron Islands...” she trailed off, showing that track record that ranged from polite dismissal to outright rejection. “You may begin by acknowledging you will never please all of them,” the Mistress of Whispers added with some nonchalance, referring to the Reach court. “So, you might as well behave as it pleases you”. She let the words linger, a subtle offering meant more as a reassurance than a form of comfort.

Laena’s last question gave her pause. It was in the past years that Rhea had truly built a life she was proud of, a life that even made her happy. Her split infancy in Brightwater Keep and with her Farwynd kin wasn't something she wanted to speak about. “What I left behind is nothing I miss,” she replied, leaving no opening to inquire more about. “And what I’ve found here... well, it keeps me occupied”. A beat passed before she turned her gaze back to Laena, her expression wry but not unkind. “The court is full of games. But fret not, you happen to have the strongest ally of them all,” she added with a subtle smile. Laena Oldflowers stood closest to the king than anyone else, after all.

lilac gaze swept over the gardens of highgarden, vivid with life and color. the hum of bees and the distant murmur of fountains created a serene backdrop, yet the weight of court lingered even here. she ran her fingers gently along the petals of a blooming rose, her expression thoughtful. “the gardens here are beautiful,” she said, her voice carrying a quiet warmth. “there’s a peace to them, even if it doesn’t quite reach the heart of the castle.”

she turned to rhea, her smile faint but genuine. “court has its intrigues, its splendor, but i’ve always found my heart rests easier in the country. there’s something grounding about open fields and the sound of the wind in the trees. i feel... freer there.” she hesitated for a moment, as if weighing her words. “highgarden is close, though. it carries a piece of that ease, even if it’s still wrapped in silk and whispers.”

laena’s eyes flickered to rhea’s fan, its steady motion matching the measured cadence of her words. “you seem at home here, my lady,” she continued, her tone lighter now, almost teasing. “i imagine the rhythms of court are less tiring when you navigate them with such ease and grace." her tone was genuine as she offered a small smile.

she glanced down, her fingers tracing idle patterns along the lace of her sleeve. “still, i’ve tried to make my place here, even if it doesn’t always feel like it fits. maybe that’s why i find solace in supporting others. if i can make something easier for someone else, it makes the court’s weight feel a little less heavy.”

her gaze lifted again, meeting rhea’s. “but you—you seem at home in it all. do you ever long for something simpler? or does the rhythm of court life suit you too well to leave it behind?”

[rhea-florent]

Rhea stepped into the solar, knowing she had not been summoned for pleasantries. f Omer had wanted a simple reunion, he would have chosen a different setting. Quick nods were exchanged between the siblings as a greeting, and the Mistress of Whispers made her way to the Commander's large desk. Her gaze moved over the maps and scattered missives before landing on her brother again. “No one is openly siding with the pirates,” she said plainly. “But men with something to gain rarely make their dealings known. Smugglers, merchants looking to protect their trade routes, or even those who bear grudges against the Reach might be willing to slip a few coins into foreign pockets for the right price”. Her voice was steady, matter-of-fact. “I’ll keep an eye out for anything that suggests such arrangements. If I find anything, I will ensure you learn about it”.

She crossed her arms, considering his words more carefully now. He would be fighting again. Omer Florent was one of the best swordsmen in the continent, and yet she did feel some concern quietly blooming in her gut. “And where will you go first?” she asked, quick to focus on the task at hand. “If I know your destination, I can start gathering intelligence before you even set out.”. The clever foxes could join their strengths that way: him wielding his sword, and her ensuring he never strode into battle blind.

who: @rhea-florent what: before omer departs to deal with braavosi pirate and get a temperature from various knights around westeros he visits with his sister.

Omer Florent stood in the center of his solar at Highgarden, the heart of his command in the Reach. The room was large and imposing, as befitting the High Commander of the Reach. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of battle and the proud history of House Tyrell. A large, polished wooden desk sat at the far end of the room, its surface scattered with maps of the Reach, strategic reports, and sealed letters awaiting his attention. Several chairs lined the room, all worn from use, where officers and trusted advisors had sat across from him as they discussed matters of war and defense.

He stood at the window for a moment, watching the golden fields stretch out in the distance. He had grown used to the weight of responsibility, but it did not make it any easier. There was much to do before he left to deal with the growing threat of the Braavosi pirates. He turned in time to see Rhea as she entered, he offered a smile as took a seat. "I'll be joining in some of the fighting soon."

He gestured to the maps on his desk. “There’s a storm brewing, and I need your sharp eyes more than ever. The pirates in our waters are only the beginning. I’ll be visiting some kingdoms, I want to see the state of their waters, ask fighting men what they know. I'm sure there are angles I'm missing. I just, before I do all of this, have you heard anything? Is anyone siding with these pirates?"

[rhea-florent]

Rhea let out a slow breath through her nose, forcing her shoulders to remain relaxed as she walked beside him. This will be no different, he stated. A faint, humorless scoff escaped her. It was a neat dismissal, wrapped in Cedric’s usual confidence. “Of course I will,” she murmured, because there was no other alternative. She had learned long ago that her cousin’s trust was not a thing freely given, not even to her. The king expected her to work with the scraps he offered, to shape scattered pieces into a useful web of information that suited his purpose, and so she would. But she did not always have to like the way he positioned her to achieve his ends.

The Mistress of Whispers did want to pry into the matter of the Dornish blade he had sourced, to tug at the loose threads he so carefully kept out of her reach. But Cedric, ever the master of deflection, had already turned the conversation elsewhere. Her husband. Harlon. Rhea’s expression hardened. She knew what Cedric wanted: for her to smooth things over, to coax her husband back into the fold with soothing words and careful hands. But how could he not see what was so plainly evident? Harlon’s silence was not a puzzle to be unraveled nor some passing mood to be eased. His legitimization as a Tarly, while it saved his life, had put him in a precarious situation for the rest of his life. It had bound him to a name that would never fully be his, made him a lord in title yet left him an outsider still. Rhea had seen the way it weighed upon him. The feeling of being an imposter, of not being what he'd been proped up to be, made to wear a noble name while some still doubted him being worthy of having it.

Rhea slowed her steps, turning her gaze toward her cousin, unreadable. “If you wish to know what troubles him, you must ask him”. Her voice was steady, encouraging even, but there was definitely a finality to it. Speak to your brother, was what she did not say out loud. “I am his wife, not his keeper, Ced. And I will not be your spy in my own marriage,” she added with a pointed look. A softer woman might have reassured him, offered some gentle word to placate his concerns, but that was not who Rhea was to her cousin. “What he has shared with me, he has done so as a husband confiding in his wife, not as a man unwittingly offering up information to your Mistress of Whispers”.

That was a line she was not willing to cross, for it could ruin the very foundation of the life she had built with Harlon over the past years. “You should know what his position in this world cost him,” she continued, her tone edged with something quiet and knowing. That was the only hint she could offer to her cousin, to her king. “And if you have only just now begun to think about it, then you are far later to the matter than I expected of you”.

♠

cedric’s steps did not falter, his gaze steady on the garden path ahead. the cool morning air wrapped around them, a pleasant counterpoint to the heated undertone of their conversation. rhea’s frown, though fleeting, was not lost on him. "what are you on about?" he asked, glancing to her side as he noticed the ire upon her features. he knew her displeasure intimately; it came like the prick of thorns beneath a rose’s bloom—sharp, insistent, and entirely expected. her words, even softened, carried an edge, but cedric let them hang in the air a moment before responding, his tone calm but unyielding.

“you’ve always worked well with what little you’re given. that's your point.” he said, a faint smile curving his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. a slight jab, cocky in nature no doubt. “this will be no different to your usual method. you’ll make it work."

cedric slowed his pace, his hands clasped loosely behind his back as he turned slightly toward her, his vivid ocean hues flicking to her face. “let’s not dwell on the particulars of what you don’t know. instead, perhaps you can tell me what is known to you—about harlon.” the shift in subject was deliberate, the mention of her husband pointed. “he’s distant. quiet in court, even quieter when the council convenes. it’s unlike him.” his voice was low, threaded with something resembling concern, though he carefully masked it.

“i don’t have the patience to play the guessing games he seems to prefer these days. if he's pissed off with something, do me a favour and get it out of him will you?”

he stepped toward the edge of the path, running a hand lightly over the stone bench they’d passed earlier. “i imagine you know more than i do, as usual” he continued, his words casual, as though discussing the weather, though the intensity in his gaze betrayed him. “it isn’t like harlon to retreat without reason, and i suspect the cause is something more than simple disinterest.” there was a level of exasperation in her words of cedric tyrell as he referred to his brother; the brother none knew he had. it were strange; for all the years they had known eachother, he considered him a brother - and yet, the ties of blood felt distant. "is he having some crisis or something?

[rhea-florent]

Rhea wasn't used to adorning her hair in braids, or weaving flowers through the strands to create a traditional Yule look. Fiadh had good skill in that, and the Mistress of Whispers was good at copying and replicating what the Vance lady did.

Her focus was split but not diminished, paying attention to what Brianna and Fiadh said, while also being aware of what happened around. A trick of her trade, she supposed. So she raised her head when Ronan spoke about her brother, turning in Omer's direction. “Ah, but our Commander wouldn't weasel away from a challenge like that, would he?” she raised her voice, speaking teasingly about her brother.

Just as Rhea herself had teased her brother, Ronan poked fun at his sister. Was it a common trait amongst clover folk? The Mistress of Whispers definitely saw that merry playfulness more amongst her kin than she did others. “You have too little hair to have an opinion on this, Ronan. When we care for your input, we'll ask,” she quipped with an amused smile before she glanced at Brianna. They were nearly done with her hair and she looked like a queen. “You're a right beauty, eilit”.

who: clover folk group meeting at one of the yule celebrations context: there is none, they are all vibing and there is no thread order.

the warmth of the hall wrapped around ronan like an old cloak, though he found himself watching more than joining the revelry. the clover folk were loud tonight—louder than usual—but that suited him fine. he leaned on the edge of the hearth, the heat licking at his back as his eyes wandered over the gathering.

“omer,” he called out, his voice rising above the din. “ye’d best not let caitria rope ye into another daft contest. last time, she near snapped yer wrist.” he raised his goblet to his lips, fighting a grin as omer waved him off with a muttered curse. no doubt that was nothing like how the event had taken place; but still. ronan would have no issue in irritating omer for the sake of it.

his gaze shifted to the corner where fiadh and rhea were working on brianna’s hair. “fiadh,” he called, unable to hide his amusement, “if ye can make her look half-decent, i’ll name ye a miracle worker.” brianna’s glare shot his way, but he met it with a half drunken scoff. the room roared with laughter, and ronan let it carry him, the weight of the season sitting just a little lighter on his shoulders.

[rhea-florent]

The Mistress of Whispers walked alongside her cousin, a leisurely walk that appeared inoffensive by all accounts. Not like the tangled scheming and plotting for the toppling of pieces around the realm that it actually was. The king spoke of plans within plans, and unveiled secrets that even Rhea was in the dark about. Frankly, she hated not knowing, and the fact that her cousin was asking of her to not dig deeper. She glanced at him with a mild frown, skeptical. He was asking to keep tied hands of the person he'd asked to weave secrets to begin with. Cedric bore the name Tyrell as his banner, but truly, he was more a Florent than anything else. Dear Eloise's blood had not been diluted one bit.

“I don't like this,” she murmured, “I cannot work with what I don't know, Ced”. There was merit to compartmentalizing information, that she knew far too well. But surely the king knew her usefulness was diminished when she was left partially in the dark. Rhea had no trouble keeping matters out of the council —there was plausible deniability then. But she had stained her hands before, and could do so again for the good of the realm. It was the beauty of working with the veil of secrecy and anonymity.

It had been a long time since the whispers sullying the faith had begun. Matters like that took time to flourish and Rhea had been gardening the talk, the perceptions, with utmost care. A final blow was coming, she gathered, from her cousin's words. “I understand discretion, you know that,” the lady said with a firm nod, casually glancing around the gardens. For all the loudness in Rhea's usual demeanor and bold personality, she was as skilled in discretion, subtlety, calculation.

“You're the one who will need to work on being more discreet, dear cousin,” she said as she lowered her tone. “A Dornish woman?” The Mistress of Whispers gave the king a pointed look, tilting her head slightly. The whispers informed of that meeting, and if Rhea had managed to learn that, there was the risk other spies could have gained insight into it too. Other than that broad descriptor nothing else had been learned. No name. No specific ties to one house or another. Still, she'd worked to diffuse any murmurs around it, invalidating, twisting, replacing information. “So you've sourced your blade from Dorne,” she stated then, quietly. She did not even phrase it as a question.

who: @rhea-florent when and where: set following his conversations with halima yronwood and tirius rowan, cedric tyrell sees his spy mistress the following morning. they are enjoying a leisurely morning stroll, following cedric's first official meeting with his newest member of the family - cillian.

the morning air was cool, touched with the scent of fresh blooms from the gardens surrounding highgarden’s sprawling paths. cedric tyrell strode with an unhurried grace, his gaze fixed ahead as lady rhea tarly walked beside him, her pace matching his. their surroundings were idyllic—soft birdsong, the murmur of fountains, and the golden light of dawn spilling over the emerald expanse of their home—but cedric’s thoughts were far from tranquil. “a plan has been set into motion,” he began, his voice calm but with an edge of finality. he didn’t look at her directly; his eyes lingered instead on the vibrant rows of roses they passed.

“it is delicate, rhea. not one for prying eyes or wandering ears. yet, like all plans worth their salt, it will require your expertise to guide it to its inevitable conclusion. in a few days, or weeks, or months, events will unfold, and the realm will turn its gaze where it’s meant to. you will not speak to me of this again, nor will i speak to you. our silence, as always, will be our strength. when it is done, the results will speak for themselves.”

his eyes narrowed slightly, though his expression remained calm. “this is not for the council. not for tirius rowan...not for tion peake. not for omer, not for lucrezia...they will have no part in this." that was a lie regarding tirius rowan; only, he would not implicate tirius as being fine with the murder of one of his own. not when they sit at the same table, and there already remained tension between tirius and rhea that he was not blind to. he clasped his hands behind his back, the cool morning breeze brushing against his face. “there are whispers already, as there always are. but they’re unfocused, scattershot. i need them shaped, narrowed. targeted, in the aftermath of something specific.” he finally glanced at her, his hazel eyes sharp and expectant.

cedric paused near a low stone bench, his gaze softening momentarily as an attendant walked by holding a young girl—his cousin's daughter helena, —her laughter echoing across the garden. cedric offered a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. when the child had disappeared around the corner, his expression hardened once more. “you’ll ask no questions about the particulars of the plan,” he continued, his tone lowering but firm. “you to understand the need for discretion, even among allies. i've already sourced someone willing to sully their blade; all you need do is spin the blood to face toward the high septon when it comes."

[rhea-florent]

Rhea shook her head lightly, a quiet indication that he needed not to apologize. “You need your rest as well,” she said, as this was not about her. She brushed his hair with her fingers and moved closer to her husband, feeling his gentle pull. The lady did not say anything else, giving space for her husband to open up and give words to what was tossing and turning in his mind.

The Tarly lady listened intently, letting Harlon speak without prompting him to go in one specific direction or other. She had begun to build some suspicions in her head given his demeanor in the past weeks, but it was different to actually hear him say what was weighing him down. Harlon's story was a complex one —grown up as a noble bastard, an artist free to pursue his desires, a man locked up unjustly for the faults and the sins of another. And then he'd been thrown into the position he had now, covering up secrets. Perhaps it was always meant to become suffocating at one point.

“Don't speak of what I deserve, Harlon. What I deserve is what I want in my life,” she spoke firmly, yet there was an undeniable undercurrent of love in her words. “I want you. I've wanted you for years, and I will continue to want you, mo shíorghrá. So do not even dare suggest that you are less than what I deserve or want in life”. Rhea held his face in both of her hands then, sharp blue eyes looking intently at his dark gaze. “We build what we can with what we have, and you've already given me so much”. He had given her a loving partnership that was so much more than anything Rhea might have dreamed of when considering marriage before. He had given her two beautiful, healthy children. He had given her a true home.

“What do you want?” she asked him then, her voice soft but steady. “Do not think about the realm, or me, or duty,” she added, encouraging her husband to truly consider what might help to lift the weight he felt on his shoulders. Think about what might be enough. Rhea brushed her thumbs against his cheeks and gave a light nod when he mentioned visiting Cedric. “Talk to him,” she reassured him that it might aid to speak to him. To his brother. “Don't worry about us, we'll be fine, my love”.

.

harlon looked up at rhea, his heart catching as it always did when she used the words mo shíorghrá. my eternal love. he wondered if she knew how much power those words had over him, how they could make him feel like the world wasn’t quite so heavy when she said them.

but tonight, the weight still clung stubbornly to his shoulders.

“i’m sorry,” he muttered, stubbing out the joint in the small dish on the table. the ember hissed, a sharp little sound in the quiet of the study. “you shouldn’t be up. you need rest.”

even as he said it, he reached for her hand, gently pulling her closer, craving the comfort of her touch. he pressed his lips to her fingers, lingering there a moment before looking back at her. her eyes, always so sharp and knowing, were softened by concern. it made him feel both grateful and guilt-ridden all at once.

“i just…” he began, hesitating, unsure how to put his thoughts into words without sounding ridiculous. he gestured vaguely at the empty air. “i don’t know, rhea. everything feels so… off. you’re you. my wife. the mistress of whispers. the woman who could untangle a conspiracy while rocking a baby to sleep. and i—” he stopped himself, shaking his head with a small, humorless laugh.

“i feel like i’m playing at being a lord. horn hill’s fine, the reach is stable, but it’s not enough. it’s like i’m standing still while everyone else is running ahead.” his voice grew quieter, as if confessing a sin. “i’m thinking of going to highgarden to see cedric, but i hate the idea of leaving you so soon. of leaving them.” his eyes flicked toward the door, toward where their son slept, his guilt etched clearly on his face "you deserve more."

[rhea-florent]

Rhea’s gaze lingered on Laena —Florent blue eyes always studying, discerning. Her lips curled into a smile, a pleasant enough gesture to pass as friendly, yet not entirely devoid of the lady's peculiar edge. “It is a joy to be back, isn't it? Highgarden feels so different from the West. Less gaudy, less turbulent. I can actually hear myself think here,” she scoffed as she reopened her fan, a quick flick of her wrist sending that relieving, fleeting breeze against her skin.

The Tarly Lady had no interest in speaking about gardens, frankly. She enjoyed the fresh air but did not ponder on anything about her surroundings in poetic ways. She pondered on the people she crossed paths with, and Laena happened to be someone who intrigued her. A woman so closely entangled with Rhea's cousin, yet to the Mistress of Whispers, the king's mistress remained someone whose intentions appeared somewhat clouded, a bit too perfectly polished. For Cedric's sake, Rhea played nice and did not regard the seamstress turned king's companion as someone to be spied upon.

“I'm sure you are. We all are content to be back,” she said at last, agreeing with her statement. “Though the visit to the West, as taxing as it was, allowed us all to reunite with friends from other regions,” she mused more conversationally, as she had been fortunate to meet with the clover folk from the Riverlands there.

Rhea tilted her head then, as if weighing Laena’s words about reprieve, her fan slowing in its motion. “Ah, reprieve,” she echoed, her tone light, yet layered with something sharper beneath the surface. “I wouldn't say so. Let's just say I do enjoy my duties at court,” the lady mentioned. Even in the gardens, a spymaster was still at work in some sense. “What about you? Have you earned a moment's peace, my lady?”

laena smiled faintly as she stepped into the garden, her eyes immediately drawn to the vibrant blooms swaying gently in the breeze. the soft chirping of birds overhead was a welcome relief from the tension that had begun to settle into her chest in recent days. she glanced at Rhea, noticing the fan she had in her hand, her face slightly flushed. "i can’t blame you for indulging in a bit of wine,” laena added, her smile growing warmer. “after all, traveling all the way from the west… we all could use a bit of relief.”

she couldn’t help but wonder at the truth behind rhea's words, her studying expression. It was clear there was more beneath the surface, but laena chose to focus on the kindness in the moment, not the questions that swirled around her. “I’m glad to be back, truly,” she said with sincerity, her voice soft and comforting. “it’s always nice to be home. even the gardens here seem different," laena continued, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "so full of life, just like it always has been. i think that’s part of what i’ve missed most—this place feels like it breathes alongside us."

she looked back to the other now, a smile still placed upon her features. "are you enjoy a bit of reprieve from everything today? i’m sure the court will catch up to us soon enough."

[rhea-florent]

Rhea could only chuckle at Fiadh's comment about meeting her match in her infant son. “Possibly,” she said, grinning. Cillian, her little fox, was a Florent through and through, and Florents were never easy. Her boy was behaving well enough with the Vance lady, a very welcome respite. The Mistress of Whispers enjoyed the sight, for there was something undeniably soothing about seeing Fiadh here, so natural and at ease in her home, as if she belonged among the stone walls and sprawling hills of Horn Hill.

Setting her teacup aside, Rhea shifted in her seat with a sigh, her gaze settling briefly on the Riverlander. “I know, I know,” she waved a hand, dismissing the comment. She remembered how it had been when Helena had just been born, and how the notion of having another child wasn't something she wished to entertain much. Here she was now, a mother of two. “I mean it now I truly do,” Rhea stated, “But I know eventually I'll think differently again and you'll be helping me care for more babies eventually”.

Rhea's expression brightened as she smiled at her friend. “I am deeply grateful for your assistance, Fiadh. You have saved me many times over. And I have to say, you had been missed here as well,” the lady added. “And now that you’re here, I think we should make the most of it. I’m sure Helena’s already made plans to kidnap you for herself, have you tell her some stories. So I do have to make the most of your company when she lets me”. Her grin returned, a clever and playful gesture. “Perhaps you’ll even indulge me with some of your stories? Tell me what you have been working on lately”.

amusement quirked on fiadh's face, though it was not without sympathy. "ah. so you've met your match with him." she was teasing, the glance she gave little cillian mock-stern, despite the fact her smile had not shifted an inch. "are you going to cause trouble for your mother, little one?" she still spoke gently, afraid to disturb his peace, but with none of the high-pitched cooing many took on when talking to small people. such things gave fiadh such a jolt of second-hand embarrassment that she could never quite bring herself to do it. she spoke to children as she spoke to adults, though admittedly with a little more tenderness.

it was not a pleasant thing to hear that pregnancy had not been kind to rhea. having never been through it herself, fiadh wasn't sure she quite had the words to offer any advice in the matter. "i'll be sure to remind you that you said that when the next one comes along," though she was joking, she was not without sympathy.

"and i'm glad you're on the road to recovery." with time, rhea's suffering would be but a memory. "and while you regain your strength, you'll have me." her visit to horn hill, was not planned to be a long one, but neither did she plan on being idle when she was here. as with all her visits, she would play with helena, spend time with rhea, and get to know the newest tarly. "i have missed you and helena, you know."

[rhea-florent]

Rhea immediately frowned as he spoke. “Ah, seafóid”. Nonsense, she was quick to dismiss, waving a hand as if to send away the very words he'd uttered into the air. Conall was much too dear to her for the lady not to have faith in him even when he stubbornly kept lowering himself so much. Perhaps especially when he behaved in such self-deprecating ways. “I'll always bet on you, Conall”.

For many years of her life, she had existed in so much isolation. There had been a deep-rooted sense of solitude within her family as Allun Florent and Yara Farwyn caused such a chasm in every relationship that Rhea attempted to have. How she had hated Omer for a period of her life, and felt certain that he despised her in return. How separated she'd felt from the clover folk too. Allun and Yara had fed her so many notions of distrust, of self-preservation above all, of a harsh world that had no real place for someone like her. There had only been two options: Either tame the iron blood to make herself palatable for the Reach, or forsake her father's blood to harshen herself enough for the Iron Islands. No middle grounds. And yet, here she stood today, having uncovered the kind of existence she felt comfortable with. Rhea did not believe in the gods —not seven of them, not a drowned one—, but how she counted her blessings these days for the family she recovered, the family she'd built, and the family she'd found along the way.

The Tarly lady looked at her friend with so much appreciation and couldn't help but grin as he called her out. “Fine, fine, you're right,” she agreed, also in laughter. She considered it a small victory to elicit some joy out of her friend, even if only briefly. “Do drink two glasses, my friend. Drink the one that I cannot drink for now,” she made a playful grimace, because gods, how she would miss her wine for the next few months.

if only it were as easy as rhea's words would suggest, that he could hold his head up high and not give a damn what the world thing. it was a trait he quite admired in rhea. she did not let the taint of accusation cow her. but then, it was different. he might not have physically raised his hand to abigail, but the mental damage they had inflicted upon one another was all too true. he was still to blame, no matter what those who loved him wanted to believe. "i think you have a little more faith in me than i deserve, rhea."

there was no topic of conversation, not his deceased wife, not his brother, not even his own complicated feelings at seeing his kin flourish, that could dampen his joy for rhea in that moment. if there was one thing conall was grateful for, it was that he was born clover, a community so close it was as though they were one large, extended family. when one celebrated, they all did, and this was news to be celebrated.

"since when have you needed my permission for anything?" he teased her. "don't be making a scapegoat of me because you've decided to make your husband's life difficult for the next few months, rhea tarly." conall let out a snort of laughter, his head shaking at the thought. "but truly, i am pleased for you. i'll raise a glass for you and the little one tonight."

[rhea-florent]

Cillian had finally fallen asleep under the spell of clover lullabies and the rocking back and forth in Rhea's arms. Her patience —which had never been her strongest attribute— was tested each time she had to put her baby to sleep. He was a restless little thing, even as the small bundle he was now. Even in silent desperation to have her son close his eyes and rest, the lady did her very best to remain composed. If she got stressed, the chances for Cillian to fall asleep lessened considerably. A baby easily picked up on what a mother conveyed, after all. So calm and composed she had to remain to soothe her little boy, and for the sake of her own sleep.

She carefully placed him in the cradle and moved to the bed, watching him remain quiet and peaceful as he dreamed. She attempted to conjure sleep for herself. Harlon was still in his study, she could see the hint of light from down the hall slipping beneath the bedroom's door. The Mistress of Whispers sat up, setting the covers away, and gave one last look at her sleeping baby before sneaking out of the room.

Rhea did not mind the smoke as she entered her husband's sacred space for thinking, for creating, and sometimes for spiraling as well. The last one, she'd noticed, had become a more recurring occurrence as of late. “Oh love, I could practically hear you thinking from the bedroom,” she stated simply as she moved closer to him, leaning against where he sat. Her tone was half serious and half playful, as it often were. “Your mind's been troubled these past days,” she mentioned, caressing his jaw with two fingers. “Talk to me, mo shíorghrá,” the lady continued, her hand moving to his hair, tenderly brushing it.

location: in harlon's study in hornhill. a few weeks after the birth of his son. @rhea-florent

​​harlon sat in his dimly lit study, the faint glow of a single candle casting flickering shadows across the room. the sharp scent of smoke curled around him, a joint balanced between his fingers burning slowly. he exhaled a long, measured breath, watching the smoke dissipate like the worries in his mind refused to. this wasn’t a habit he’d ever meant to pick up, but tonight, the quiet crackle of the burning leaf felt oddly comforting. familiar. it was something to focus on, something to do when his thoughts grew too loud.

the guilt gnawed at him. rhea was just down the hall, hopefully fast asleep, or at least pretending to be for the baby’s sake. she deserved the rest after all she had endured—bringing their son into this world while still managing to pull the strings of the realm like a master puppeteer. she made it look effortless. graceful.

and then there was him. harlon, the bastard lord, stumbling through his duties like a child learning to walk. he knew he wasn’t doing poorly; horn hill was steady under his watch but it wasn’t enough. it didn’t feel enough. people’s quiet reassurances echoed in his ears, but they did little to soothe him. he wasn’t like his wife, who wielded secrets like weapons, nor like his friends, whose voices carried weight at council meetings. he knew he couldnt join them. best to keep his distance to quel the rumors.

he took another drag, letting the ember eat away at the roll. highgarden. it seemed the next step. an attempt to make himself useful, to build alliances, to do something. but the thought of leaving her—leaving them—so soon after their son’s birth felt like a betrayal.

harlon rubbed at his temple and let his head fall back against the chair. the candlelight flickered, the smoke curling upward like a silent prayer. but then he heard a noise and quickly turned to see his wife illuminated in the doorway. “shit…you shouldn’t be in here with all the smoke” he said trying to fan it away. “i thought you went to sleep”

[rhea-florent]

Rhea quietly studied Conall's expression for a moment. She knew they were entirely different people who had entirely different approaches to life. She could see the subtle sadness, the lingering nostalgia, behind Con's eyes. Whatever she suggested could be something her friend wouldn't do. “I wouldn't bow my head so much,” she replied simply. “Fuck the world and what others believe,” the lady continued, never being too mindful of her language when she thought or felt strongly about a topic. The Blackbar lord didn't have that combative, contrary nature that flowed in her own veins, but he could explore his own ways of standing taller, prouder than he currently did. “Hells, fuck what I believe too. Just try to remember the stories others tell aren't who you are, Conall”.

Rhea gave a quick, dismissive shake of her head. It wasn't his brother she meant. In truth, the Mistress of Whispers didn't have as close a bond with the other Blackbar lord. When the relationship between the brothers strained, Rhea had clearly chosen a side. It had been far too easy a choice, aided by the fact that Rhea didn't forget what position the older Blackbar took when the accusations tied to the Sack of Lannisport were levied upon her. Con was family, truly. His brother was not.

There was a playful smirk on her lips as her friend understood her meaning and congratulated her. “Ha! I wish Harlon was here to hear it, witness that I've been granted permission,” she half-joked. No permission was needed for the demanding side of her attitude to flourish, and frankly, her husband had been as tender and understanding as ever. Despite the ill-feeling she'd been getting thus far, Rhea was content with the idea of the Tarly family growing. She was also as glad as one could be in knowing her children would also have their clover folk kin around as they grew up.

if this was what freedom felt like, conall didn't want it. he'd felt freer before, when he'd laughed more frequently, surrounded himself with people and filled his days with joy. before his existence had become so hollow, before he bowed his head before entering rooms in the hopes nobody would look at him. why would he choose freedom, when he looked back at the alternative now with a rose-tinted glow? "how would you use it, then?" he asked, not accusatory, but genuinely curious. no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't see the light for himself, but perhaps rhea could. "if you were me. what would you do?"

his eyes rolled when she mentioned his becoming an uncle again. he had missed the point, instead of thinking she was referring to herself, his mind instead leapt to the brother he had not spoken to for years. "yeah, well, if my brother wanted me to be an uncle he'd have told me himself," he pointed out, dourness crossing his expression. but then, rhea continued to speak, and realisation dawned, the sullen cast of his face giving way to joy. "oh fuck, you meant you. i thought... never mind. come here." he slipped his arms around her, pulling her into a congratulatory hug. "that's amazing, rhea." he rubbed her back before letting go. "well, if you can't be insufferable during pregnancy, when can you?" he'd desperately wanted children of his own, but it had never happened with abigail. their marriage had deteriorated far too quickly for that. watching the people he loved become parents was a bittersweet feeling.

[rhea-florent]

Rhea was resting on the couch, nursing a cup of tea brewed by the maester while she would very much prefer to be enjoying a glass of wine. Blessed be Fiadh, for she was a lifesaver when it came to looking after babies. The lady had been wonderful company for Rhea since Helena was born, so eagerly giving her time to tenderly care for her daughter, and she hadn't hesitated to be around the Tarly lady as soon as Cillian was born.

“Do steal him. I'll have my hands full with him, I can tell already the little one will be a troublemaker,” the Tarly lady replied jokingly. Her pregnancy had been more complicated in some aspects this time around, having gone through some ill-feelings she didn't get when she carried Helena. The delivery too had been much, much worse. Rhea had cursed the names of all the gods she barely believed in, she had cursed Harlon and she was sure she had cursed herself and her whole ancestry at some point. “That little fox will take more after me than Helena does,” she laughed. It was soon to tell of course, but merely judging by the way little Cillian Tarly came into the world, he'd be a turbulent force later in life.

“Oh no, it's not stupid at all,” the lady waved a hand, quickly dismissing any judgment Fiadh had about the question she asked. “Everything was different this time around. Almost makes me not want to have more children,” she added with a smirk, hinting at the fact that it had been more taxing, more uncomfortable. Harlon and her had discussed it, of course, and truthfully they both wanted a larger family. And with their bedroom hymns, gods knew they were indeed bound to have more children. “I am well, bláth. Thankfully. I have my health and I'll have my strength back in no time”.

closed starter for @rhea-florent

"rhea," fiadh's voice was hushed, one hand pressed to her own cheek as she peered at the infant inside the cradle. little cillian was sleeping soundly, and she had no desire to disturb his peace. "oh, isn't he lovely?" the baby was a sweet little thing, in the way all babies were, but so small and fragile that for now, she was happy just to look at him, wrapped in his blankets. when he was a little older, a little less breakable, perhaps she'd feel less tentative about scooping him up the way she did with little helena.

"you need to be careful," she tore her gaze away from the baby then to look at rhea, a grin on her face. "if you're not, i'll end up stealing him away from you. at least, until he wakes up." no matter how lovely he was, fiadh wasn't sure she was quite equipped to deal with the cries of an agitated, hungry newborn.

she leaned forward on the stool she was perched on, elbows propped on her knees and hands cupping her chin. "but how are you?" she queried. "is it... i don't know, different this time around? is that a stupid question?"

[rhea-florent]

Rhea enjoyed laughing with friends, perhaps enjoying a little too much being able to laugh at their expense from time to time as well. Conall could use a good burst of laughter, she knew, for at times, there was an air of doom and gloom about him that she wished to rip away. It was the unfairness of a wrongly-attached reputation. “My friend, once your reputation is ruined, you're free,” she stated plainly. “You might as well use it to your advantage”. Rhea would know. She too was blamed for acts she did not actually commit, and hated those who blamed her. But at least, in her case, she was also able to use that narrative to her advantage in some ways. What was expected of someone like her and what was not, and play by crossing the lines of both.

“Agreed. The maester wanted to keep me bedridden, wait until the nausea settled. The fool,” she scoffed. Rhea glanced at Conall then and decided to share the news only her brother and Lu knew by now. “You'll be an uncle to another little rascal soon, you know,” she said with a subtle grin, her words casual, easy. She considered the clover folk her kin, something that wasn't true to her beliefs some years ago. Ever since Omer and she truly embraced each other as siblings, Rhea allowed herself to truly foster family-like bonds with those who shared an origin with the people of Brightwater Keep. “So take this as my warning. I was far too composed during my first pregnancy, I've decided to be insufferable during this one,” the Tarly lady joked merrily, teasing Con as she'd teased her husband and her brother.

con's eyes widened a fraction, his head turning to look at rhea. the words came a little too casually, and he could not be sure she was joking until she dissolved into laughter. conall laughed then, too, though his ears turned a little red at just how easy he was to fool. "for the best," he said. if his hands were free, he might have accompanied it with a gentle flick to her ear, but holding her bread in one hand, the other occupied by her taking his arm, he could not. "i don't think my reputation could survive a daytime visit to a westerland brothel with someone else's wife."

it wasn't entirely untrue. conall was not unaware of the perception of him held by many, in large part due to the encouragement of willow wylde. those who knew him well may see little of their conall in the conall of rumour, but when he himself looked a little closer, he could see grains of truth he wasn't entirely at ease admitting out loud. it might not be unexpected for the conall blackbar of rumour to show his face at a brothel, but that did not mean he was eager to fan the flames.

"bit of sea air will do you good," he nodded. even in his most hungover state, the salt-tang of an ocean breeze always brought him back to his senses. "better than staying cooped up indoors, anyway."

[rhea-florent]

Her pregnancy remained a topic known only to those closest to her and Harlon, and yet Rhea knew it would be a matter known to most fairly soon, as it would begin to show more noticeably sooner rather than later. Fresh air was so welcome, especially as morning sickness happened more often to her than it did when she was expecting Helena. This babe ought to be a boy, she thought, for it was more troublesome than the first one already. So Rhea leaned back and took in the sunlight in the gardens, a fan in hand as she willed the nasty feeling in her gut to vanish completely. She was halfway there, thankfully. The maester was a bloody fool if he truly believed staying cooped up and resting in her chambers was a better solution.

“Lady Oldflowers,” the Mistress of Whispers greeted with a quick nod as she shut her fan in one quick motion. “It's not a horrid a day, I suppose we could say it is lovely in some way,” she sighed before actually meeting the other woman's eyes and studying her expression. It was a bad habit of hers, perhaps, to speak bluntly and see the sort of reaction she got from others. Rhea enjoyed the expressions from the ladies that trailed behind the king's mistress. “Excuse me, I overindulged in wine to celebrate we finally came back from the West,” she easily lied, a cheeky grin accompanying her words. “What about you? Are you glad to be back, my lady?”.

setting: the reach, after the court returns from the westerlands, where the incident with alicent hightower took place.

context: naturally, there is some air of suspicion surrounding the mistress of the king of roses due to her kinship with the dragon king ; starter for @rhea-florent

she had always felt most at peace in the reach, the rolling, fertile green hills of the land were a most welcome sight upon her return from the westerlands. the air seemed the freshest here, and the sun seemed to shine brighter, too. laena was biased, certainly, but she would always think fondly of these lands, and say as much. though she had considered opting for some reprieve from court in hollywell, but decided to stay within highgarden for now, intending to leave once things felt somewhat...settled?

though she wondered if that would ever be, and she felt the eyes upon her as she walked the halls - this time for entirely different reasons. she still managed to have a small social circle, she might consider them friends if she really knew any of them, but they had managed to flock to her for one reason or another, and she decided the company was much desired, even if it felt entirely like some facade.

as she often did in the mornings, laena took to strolling the gardens, stopping to observe the new blooms, inhale their sweet scent, and make small talk and laugh when appropriate at whatever quips the ladies her accompanied her made, though she were only half-listening, most of the time. they came upon a familiar figure, one laena recognized though had not really conversed with before, and friendly smile found its way upon her cheeks. "good morrow, lady tarly." she stated. "it's a lovely day, isn't it?"

[rhea-florent]

Rhea ate one of the peach slices and grinned at him as she finished eating her little treat. “We're taking the scenic route to a brothel, my friend,” the lady stated with natural nonchalance as she linked her arm with his. It took a few seconds for Rhea to study Conall's reaction to her words, letting it sink in for him before she burst out laughing. “Did you just blush, Coco? Relax, I'm only teasing. Of course we're not heading to a Western brothel. Gods know if they even have those here, with how pious and repressed these people are”.

However, it wasn't entirely rare for the Mistress of Whispers to discreetly visit places of such repute. She'd found some of her most skilled spies in spaces like that, after all. It was incredible what people could say when they were most vulnerable, letting their guards down in moments of intimacy. And workers in pleasure houses could often use the coin and protection a spymaster could provide. Rhea trusted no Westerlanders and she'd never recruited spies in this region. She wasn't about to start now. But she did plan on gaining some information from what could be heard strolling around Lannisport.

“Let us go to the port. Do you fancy that nice, long walk?” she asked as she glanced at her friend. “I'll admit I could use the exercise after having poorly these past days,” the lady said in good spirits, eager to move a little more than she had since her arrival to the West.

it was a battle he was sure to lose. he had spent far too long trying to convince rhea to give up the less than favourable name she had bestowed on him, and never had much success. he did not expect that to change now, but he didn't particularly mind. it was nice, just for a moment, to act as though an unflattering nickname was the biggest problem in his world.

"good," conall muttered. it was not that he had anything particularly against the lannisters. rather, he enjoyed rhea the way she was, any change or dimming of her personality an unwelcome one. he took the wrapped sweet bread without question, holding it carefully in large hands as they rose to their feet.

"where we going, then?" he asked, cocking his head as he looked to her. "seeing as the west offends your stomach so much, it's probably for the best that you pick our destination." he didn't mind where she chose to lead him, content enough simply to enjoy her company. he stepped out into the sunlight, blinking at it momentarily blinded him. "s'bright today, isn't it?" he grumbled.

[rhea-florent]

Rhea cackled when her brother stated he was going to lose some money. “Then come play with me, so I can earn some of it,” she patted his shoulder merrily and then began to tug at him to join her at the blackjack table. She'd bossed him around a bit when they were younger, playfully so, and some things didn't change with time. She'd always loved when Omer was around and she had someone who listened to her, who paid attention to what caught her interest, and who played along.

“Ah, how is your mum? I want to visit her. Tell her I'll get her some of the new ales next time. And cookies,” Rhea grinned, so she wasn't just offering alcohol to Omer's mother. She didn't see much of the woman these days as she would liked, but she'd always sensed some warmth and care from her, even if Omer's mum had no reason to be such a dear to Allun's daughter from another woman. “We can all meet and get the gang back together,” Rhea smiled, keen to see those close friends like Brianna, like the Blackbars.

“It's going pretty well. You know Brightwater was featured in a publication last month of the top 10 beers in Ireland. I ranked there next to Guinness, Omer. With Guinness,” she smiled with delight. Her brand, named after her pub, was considerably smaller and newer, it had just begun to gain more recognition outside of home in the past year.

Omer returned the hug, their father was awful but he loved Rhea all the same. They shared the only thing half siblings needed to share, a terrible parent and a hatred for that parent. While Omer's mother took him, he knew things would be different for them. A young Irish boy and his Lebanese mother figuring it all out between rough summers at Allun's fucking estate. He was glad those days were over.

"Oh yeah, I plan to lose as much money as possible." Omer smiled as he mushed to top of her head as if they children again and he was teasing her in the living room. "I've missed you too. When we get the chance you can catch up with Bri as well. She's around here somewhere, catching up with folks here and there. Oh, and ma is living in King's Landing still. She'll be happy to see ya." His mother didn't hate his half sister and often encouraged the girl to come down when the boarding school was in session. "How's the business life?"

[rhea-florent]

Rhea had been having a blast at the casino. She didn't often gamble, but when she did, she got very much into the game. The Irish woman had been laughing boisterously every time she won, and have been cursing everyone and their ancestors whenever she lost a round. All in all, she'd been doing fairly well and had actually ended up with more money to her name than when she started playing. A little voice in her head told her this was the smart time to get up, rather than gamble it all away.

It was an actual voice that got her to step away from the blackjack table, though. “Omer!” she said with excitement, rushing towards her brother. For a long time it had only been her and her mum, her father and her half-brother only distant figures. How things could change so much, though. Her father could rot in hell for all she cared, but Omer was definitely someone she felt fortunate to have had in her life for the last few years. “Are you coming to lose your money to me?” she joked before she went in to hug him tightly. “I've missed you, you big oaf”.

who: @rhea-florent where: casino night notable deets: after allun florent and alysa corbray divorce, allun has a daughter named rhea. while the siblings aren't as close as most siblings at the school, going to a boarding school together allowed them to get to know one another. maintaining contact over the years.

Omer developed a love for gambling when he was in Brunei, spending nights with the others gambling between missions or assignments. And while it was different to gamble with dice, Omer learned to count cards when gambling in the different bars and cafe's around the different villages he visited in Asia. As he downed another drink, he placed a cigarette between his lips and stepped outside to stand on the otherside of the door.

As he stepped outside, he stopped briefly to reach out and shake the hand of a man walking by, sharing a brief conversation with them before they went in and he was fishing the lighter out of his pocket.

"Oy, Rhea. C'mere you." Omer hadn't see his sister in some time and while they were different in many ways, he was always glad to see her.