fromspringandfire

[fromspringandfire]

laena’s expression softened at his words, not with pity but with recognition. something quiet passed through her, gratitude, perhaps, or the faint ache of hearing truth spoken aloud by someone unafraid to sit beside it. she let the silence linger again, not out of awkwardness this time, but reverence. the garden around them seemed to pause with her, the breeze stilling in the lavender, the hush of birdsong briefly held in the trees.

“i haven’t seen it performed,” she said at last, voice low, “but i've heard fragments of it. some time ago.” her mouth curved slightly at the memory. “one of the girls i was seated with read aloud one of the closing monologue's. she had no sense of rhythm, but still, her voice caught when she reached the end.” laena looked over at him then. “it stayed with me.”

laena moved to settle onto the edge of a nearby marble bench, the cold stone pressing through the fabric of her gown. she smoothed her skirts absently, then glanced up at gael. the air between them remained unhurried, filled with the rustling of distant ivy. it was peaceful, comfortable.

“i suppose,” she began, her voice low and thoughtful, “i put my feelings into the seams.” a wry breath of a laugh followed, not quite amused, more self-aware. “sounds foolish, doesn’t it? but it’s easier that way. fabric doesn’t interrupt. it doesn’t ask you to explain. and when it pulls or knots or refuses to lie flat, you can blame the thread instead of yourself.”

she looked back up at him. “my grandmother taught me to stitch when i was small. said a woman’s hands should always be busy, lest her thoughts wander too far. but i think she knew. i think she understood what silence could hold.”

she tilted her head slightly, her mind clearly far off in the past, yet still present. “i didn’t understand that until much later. but even now, i find it easier to speak in thread than in voice. perhaps it is similar to your writing, though i envy the clarity of your ink."

Gael's expression shifted ever so slightly at her question, his lips curving up into a subtle smile. “The Ballad of Thorns and Roses,” he said, his voice touched a certain fondness, as if naming an old friend he hadn’t meant to revisit today. “It was a collection of three plays”. He glanced toward her, curious to know where she meant to lead their conversation. If it was mere civility to inquire about his work, if there was more to it she wished to discuss. “Have you read it? Or perhaps seen any of the performances?”. Laena had only said she'd heard of it, however, but he did wonder if she knew more than she let on.

“I’m writing more now,” he went on, managing to speak with ease despite not always knowing how to speak of his work. “I’ve written more poetry in the past couple of years, but playwriting seems to summon me back. There’s something about shaping a voice for others to carry, for an audience to witness”. His tone was light, but his words were deliberate. “And yes,” the Master of the Arts added after a pause, his gaze returning to Laena with more gravity, “things like this... grief, duty, the weight of history... It all makes me reach for the quill”. Gael paused for a moment, hesitating on whether to go on or not. In the end, he did choose to share the more vulnerable element of writing with Laena. “I do think every artist pours something of themselves into their work, whether they mean to or not. Writing helps me… understand what I’ve lived through. Or at least sit with it for a time”.

He offered her a small, knowing smile. “It’s not intrusive to ask, Laena. We are kin, after all. Perhaps it’s time our family began asking questions that matter, and answering them honestly”. There was no accusation in his tone, only a reflection he had evidently thought about many times as a Hightower. “I don’t mind your curiosity. In fact, I think I welcome it,” Gael admitted, willing to open a door for her that had not been there before.

[fromspringandfire]

the rhythm of her steps were soft against the garden path as she walked in silence a few moments. the truth of his words settled between them like the shadow of a passing cloud—neither cruel nor unkind, only honest. she did not flinch from it. she let it rest in her chest, heavy and sure. not beautiful, by their standards. not memorable. merely the reach.

her fingers tightened slightly around the basket’s handle, enough to shift its weight. “yes,” she murmured at last, her tone pensive, almost faraway. “i suppose they would.” she stopped near the edge of a small arbor, letting her gaze drift toward the low stone wall where flowering vines curled in lazy spirals, the blooms faintly tinged pink.

“but comfort is a kind of defiance, isn’t it?” she looked back to him, eyes catching the gold in his. “to build something not meant to impress, but to endure. something that asks nothing but care.” her voice dropped just slightly. “they forget what comfort looks like… until they have none.” she plucked a leaf from a nearby sprig of lemon balm and rolled it between her fingers, scent rising faint and clean.

“quaint,” she repeated, tasting the word like it was a bit of underripe fruit. not sour, but not quite sweet enough to enjoy. “yes, you might be right. they’ll see the vines and fig trees and assume some retired widow dreamt it all up. but i suppose not everything needs to be remembered to matter.” her tone was light, certain. she reached out absently, brushing her hand along the low branches as they passed beneath the orchard’s shade. “i used to want to be unforgettable. now…” her voice faded, and she shrugged, letting the silence speak the rest.

but then she made a sound, soft and nearly swallowed by the breeze, something between a scoff and a breath of laughter. “if the sun’s been speaking,” she murmured, glancing toward the trees, “then i hope it keeps its voice low. it might start giving the lambs ideas.” the hem of her gown caught in a bramble, and she paused to free it with one careful motion, fingertips nimble and unbothered by thorns. there was something intimate in the way she moved, precise, but unhurried, as if the world around her would wait.

the path wound deeper into the trees, the orchard thickening before it would open again near the brook. she didn’t rush. in fact, laena seemed content to linger here, where the branches filtered the sunlight and the ground was soft with moss. “i walked this way yesterday,” she said quietly, almost like a confession. “after the rains. just to see how the grove was holding.” her gaze drifted upward, to where the light cracked through the canopy in golden streaks. “and i realized something.”

a pause stretched, lazy as the honeybees hovering nearby.

she slowed, and this time, she looked at him. close enough now that her shoulder nearly brushed his. her hand, still faintly scented with lemon balm, reached out, not with force, just presence, and curled around his fingers. her thumb brushed lightly over his knuckles, slow and thoughtful. “it’s nearly perfect here, cedric.” her voice was warm, but there was an edge of something underneath, wistful, maybe. expectant. “the kind of place that doesn’t just exist, but holds. i think the land’s learning how to be gentle again.” she turned to face him fully then, her expression unreadable save for the faint tilt of her lips. “and still, something’s missing.”

she didn’t say what. just tilted her head slightly, considering him. then, as if shaking off the moment, she stepped back onto the trail, her basket swinging again. “you’ll have to try your hand at mosaic soon. maybe we’ll make a panel together. something small. something no one else will notice but us.”

♠

the air at hollywell held a softness that the court of thorns and roses so often promised but seldom delivered, once the reality had seeped in and a vision was perceived beyond the roses. it was the kind of stillness that came not from idleness, but from intention—an atmosphere curated like a garden, where each hedge and blossom had its place; there were multiple moving pieces at work here, a clear routine which he could see merely by looking upon the workers who seemed to shot him nervous glances, as though to double check or try to confirm his identity rather than merely assume.

cedric tyrell had never thought of himself as a man particularly sensitive to agricultural and rural settings, far prefer the marvel and splendor of man. but here, in the wake of laena’s quiet industriousness, he found himself mildly, and unexpectedly, impressed due to the pragmatism clearly at play here.

she had turned this gifted corner of land into something far more than a mistress' retreat. it was a living place—no, a world—and she moved through it like its maker. each step of hers seemed known to the soil beneath, and each creature, flower, or fence post bore some mark of her influence. “so this is your infamous valyrian freehold of hollywell,” cedric spoke, his tone half-amused, half-genuine as he walked after her, silently appreciating the ways in which the rays reflected from her locks.

“i begin to see why your letters always smell of crushed thyme and honey.” he gestured vaguely to the sun-dappled orchard, where the scent of warm herbs mingled with fruit. they walked slowly, his hands behind his back, her basket swinging at her side. as she spoke of livestock and the goat named prince, he allowed himself a small, private smile. it was absurd and charming and utterly typical of her. even her estate, it seemed, had a touch of theatre to it—but not the kind one performed for court. no, this was for herself. his gaze traced a small mosaic etched along a column—tiny tesserae of clay and stone, cool blue glass catching the sun like water.

“you know, know you say it...” he continued, leaning slightly forward to look more closely, “i’d quite like to try my hand at one of these. i’ve a steady hand, and a critical eye. if you’ll risk the integrity of your walls, i’ll contribute a panel or two.” she gave him one of her usual looks, amused and sly, and he let it pass without further comment. the moment, like so many with her, hummed with a kind of shared joke neither of them fully acknowledged. when she asked her question—if the others would find beauty here, in this careful, blooming quiet—he didn’t answer at once.

he considered her words with the same measured attention he gave to small council minutes or petitions from the lords of the reach.

“they might call it quaint,” he said finally, voice even. “charming, if they’re in a good mood. but no, not beautiful. not by their standards. this—” he gestured around, “this is merely... the reach. to them, beauty is a spectacle. high towers, perfumed courts, feasts that take a week to plan and a month to forget. this would hardly be remembered.” he did not think for how his words may have come across dismissive, but rather thought he spoke only truth and account. there was little use in pretending otherwise.

“you forget the kind of rooms those people walk through for all their lives, the kind of spectacles they just expect now. gold ceilings, silk canopies, pillars carved from jade. this—” he gestured around them, vaguely, “this is… comfortable. and that’s a different thing altogether.”

as they continued walking, he was aware, sharply, of the quiet power he held here. she had built this for herself, a sanctuary, a dream in mosaic and bloom. and yet it was land gifted by him, title granted by his hand. he held the needle to the bubble. he could press in and watch it break, if he ever wished to. he wouldn’t. but the knowledge sat in him like a coin in the palm—cold, small, undeniable. she offered him a berry, and he took it without hesitation, chewing as they turned toward the path again. “perhaps the sun’s been speaking to them.” he cast her a sidelong glance. “or perhaps it’s you, i wouldn't be surprised.”

[fromspringandfire]

setting: hollywell, prior to the beginning of the verdant concord, laena invites cedric to spend some time at the keep he has gifted her to see all of her little projects ; starter for @visxionaries

laena moved between the hedges with unhurried grace, one hand lifting the hem of her gown just enough to keep it from brushing the soil. the silk clung lightly to her in the warmth, pale green and nearly translucent in the sun, her long hair undone, catching bits of light like strands of gold and silver. her basket was already half-filled with berries, the ripe kind that bled red across her fingertips.

“they’ve started keeping detailed logs of the livestock,” she said, eyes on a low thorn bush. “three more lambs born last week, and one stubborn goat who keeps trying to escape the pen.” her lips quirked in a smile. “they’ve named him prince.”

the gardens were full of soft sound, buzzing bees from the apiary, water trickling from a small fountain nearby, the faint rustle of the breeze in the fruit trees. her staff moved quietly beyond sight, all of them foreign-born, most from volantis, chosen not by chance, but by care. laena had spoken long with the princess dowager of dorne, myriam allyrion, who inspired her to extend a hand to these women and welcome them to her household. they were efficient, courteous, and proud of their craft. hollywell, slowly, was becoming something alive.

“the new grove’s taking root,” she said, brushing a curl back from her face. “pomegranate, fig, and quince. the cooks say the fruit will be strange at first, foreign to the soil… but i like the thought of that. sweet things learning how to grow here.”

she wandered a step ahead, the sunlight catching the sheer silks of her gown as it swayed about her legs. her basket hung lightly in one hand, filled with dark berries and a few soft herbs still dewy from the morning. without breaking stride, she plucked one of the ripest berries and held it delicately between thumb and forefinger.

with a glance over her shoulder, she popped it past her lips — and smiled when the juice touched her tongue. “mm,” she hummed, eyes fluttering shut for the barest moment. “sharper than yesterday.”

she turned back toward him then, stepping close enough that the silk of her sleeve brushed his. another berry was selected, this one just as ripe, and she offered it to him, arm outstretched, wrist soft, fingers stained red.

“they always taste better when someone else picks them, or so my mum always said,” she said with a small laugh, the words light but filled with something tender. her gaze lingered on him for a moment, something almost unspoken in the way her smile softened. the air between them felt still, golden with sun and beesong, and she let it linger before glancing toward the orchard ahead.

she looked back toward cedric then, eyes crinkling in the sunlight. “we’ve a woman here who does mosaics. she apprenticed in the temple district, in volantis. she offered to teach me. i might let her.” her tone was lighter now, playful. “if only to make something that doesn’t unravel.”

a pause, then, gentler. “do you think those gathering the verdant concord will someday find beauty in places like this? not just in high towers and long lineages… but in quiet, blooming things?” her voice dropped into something almost wistful. “i hope so. i hope they see what is being built here.”

[fromspringandfire]

laena nodded, letting the conversation settle like the ripples in the fountain before them. she had never quite known what to say to the hightowers, never certain what part of herself they might accept or reject. gael, at least, seemed less inclined toward the weight of expectation, but there was still something carefully guarded about him, something she wasn’t sure even she could unravel.

her gaze lingered on his hand, the brief warmth of his touch before it fell away. a quiet understanding passed between them, and laena did not press further. “yes,” she murmured, “what’s done is done.” the words felt final, but not dismissive, simply an acknowledgment that no amount of conversation could change the past.

gael being a poet was not something laena would have expected before, but now, standing here with him in the quiet of the gardens, it made a strange sort of sense. there was a depth to him, a careful consideration in his words, even when speaking of grief and duty. perhaps that same deliberation found its way into ink and parchment.

"i’ve heard of your work," she admitted, her tone light, but sincere. "a play, wasn’t it?" she tilted her head slightly, watching him. "are you working on another?"

laena let the moment linger, the soft trickle of the fountain filling the space between them. then, with a curious tilt of her head, she asked, “do you find muse in it?”

her voice was quiet, but not uncertain. “in all of this, the past, the grief, even duty. or do you look elsewhere?” her lips curved, just slightly, as she considered him. “i wonder if inspiration comes easily to you, or if you must chase it.”

she pressed her lips together, rolling them as a surge of awkwardness settled over her. "i apologize if that is intrusive, i've always been curious how others' minds work in that regard."

Gael hummed softly at her words, contemplating how to respond to them. Laena was well-meaning, of course, in offering condolences for people she did not know well. She offered her condolences because she was supposed to offer them to him, and Gael in turn, was supposed to mourn those hacked away from his family tree. In many ways, he'd mourned the loss of his relationships with his mother and brother many years ago. Now, speaking of them in the irrevocable past tense, there was a strange, hollow sensation in his chest. Not grief, not quite, because for better or worse, as callous as it could seem, the lord had buried his family while they still lived. “Thank you for your words, Laena,” he said again, finding nothing else to say about it.

His gaze momentarily shifted to the cascading water of the fountain. The gentle rhythm of it was soothing, an idle reminder that like water flowing, the world carried on, indifferent to losses. “I haven't been to Oldtown in years,” he admitted, his voice even, though there was an edge to it. It was subtle but hard to miss. There was no sorrow in the statement, nor any nostalgia. “I've divided my time between Highgarden, the Arbor, and Brightwater Keep,” he added after a beat, his lips pressing into a faint, almost wry smile. “Apologies, perhaps I ought to have let you know that”.

Gael did notice there was something measured in the way the lady carried herself, in the way she chose her words. He wondered if she too experienced what it was to be tethered to something without ever truly belonging to it. “But well, I suppose I'll have to go back more often now,” he mused. Far too few Hightower remained, and it was likely he would be warden to his niece until she became of age to rule Oldtown in her own right. It was something he had yet to discuss with the King, but he imagined lawfulness would dictate matters were conducted that way. “Please, don't worry, you need not say more about this,” he offered, letting a hand rest on her shoulder for a moment, a softer expression appearing on his face. “What's done is done”.

[fromspringandfire]

laena’s gaze softened as seffora spoke, and the weight of her the other's gratitude settled over her like a warm cloak. she gave a small, quiet smile as her fingers continued to trace the edges of the rose petals. the mention of longtable’s future stirred something deep within her, an understanding shared only by those who had felt the burden of rebuilding in the wake of devastation.

“you’ve always had the strength to find your own way, seffora. i’m glad to have played even a small part in the hope you’ve been able to give your people.” her words were a soft praise, a quiet reflection of the admiration she held for seffora’s quiet leadership.

the brief silence stretched between them, filled only by the faint rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the gardens. “you’ve had to carry so much weight on your shoulders, more than any of us should bear. but you’ve never let it crush you.” she reached out, resting her hand lightly on seffora’s arm, a gesture of solidarity. “you have the gift of seeing beyond the hardships, and it’s rare, precious.”

her voice softened with understanding. “the path ahead may be difficult, but i’ll be here, always, to help you walk it.” she paused for a moment, her thoughts momentarily drifting to the quiet promise she had made.

"of course," laena responded, a thoughtful smile tugging at her lips. “consider it done, well, me asking that is, though i hope i am convincing enough to grant you a quicker audience." she said in light jest.

she gave seffora's arm a light squeeze, guiding her in the direction of a table filled with different delicacies. "for now, we can at least revel in some of the things the west has to offer. i hear the lemon cakes are divine."

Seffora’s expression softened. There was a natural gentleness in the lady's eyes, but the kind of warmth which with she looked at her cousin was reserved only for those closest to her. “Your support has always meant so much to me, more than you know,” she murmured, her voice laced with gratitude. Not everyone had seen Seffora as they saw her now, but Laena had. “And as always, you see more than most,” she added with admiration and deep respect for her. Her cousin was both observant and keenly attuned to notice little details others could miss. “You understand what it means to be spoken of, to live in the shadow of another’s choices. But you’ve never let it define you, Laena. You built a life on your own terms, in spite of it all”. The Lady of Longtable offered a smile. “You are a reminder that we can be more than the stories they tell about us”.

She took Laena’s hand, a gesture of solidarity and gratitude. “You have given me more than just aid. You also gave me hope during a time I struggled to see possible paths forward. Longtable’s people look to me for guidance, for leadership, and I'm still new to it in many ways,” the young lady admitted. Seffora had chosen the kind of leader she wished to be, and yet was still learning how to best accomplish that. “Through your help, I’ve been able to offer my people glimpses of a better future. I cannot thank you enough for that”. Her lips curved into a soft smile, one that carried the immense gratitude she had for her cousin.

At the mention of a favor, Seffora paused. There was something she had been considering to speak with the king about. “There is… one thing I would ask,” she began, her voice steadier than she felt. “A meeting with his grace. Perhaps you could me to have that audience sooner rather than later”.Perhaps the king could be persuaded to spare some of his men, soldiers in particular, just for a time, to help bring back some steadiness to Longtable that wasn't quite there yet. And the thought of what Lucrezia had mentioned to her also crossed her mind, but Seffora wasn't sure she could or would bring her name forward for the Council just yet.

[fromspringandfire]

laena’s gaze softened, a flicker of appreciation in her eyes as she heard tion’s agreement. "i’m glad you understand," she said, her voice quiet but sincere. "it’s not just about giving them answers before we even know their questions. we need to be prepared, yes, but also flexible—ready to offer multiple solutions, not just one we’re set on. the people of starpike won’t trust you if they feel we’re simply imposing something on them."

she straightened slightly, a sense of relief passing through her. "i’m glad you see the stakes here. it’s more than just a political maneuver—it’s about rebuilding trust, about showing them that you care about what they need, not just what we think they should want."

laena’s smile deepened, and her tone carried a quiet warmth. "i’m looking forward to working with you on this, lord peake. it’s rare to find someone who truly understands the importance of listening first."

she met his gaze with renewed focus, the weight of the task ahead settling over her in a way that felt both heavy and necessary. inwardly, a sense of excitement stirred within her—an eagerness to step into something that mattered, to make a positive impact in a world that often felt as if it was drifting aimlessly.

"this will be a challenge, but one i’m ready for," she said softly, her voice firm with resolve. "i’m glad to be of help."

her eyes brightened slightly. "i’ll let you know as soon as i hear from my contacts in longtable. and you, of course—whenever you’re ready to depart for starpike, just send word. we’ll go when the time is right."

tion listened carefully, his gaze unwavering as laena spoke. it was not just her sincerity - there was a sharpness and clarity to her thoughts that he had not anticipated. she spoke as one who had already weighted the cost of what she suggested, and found it worth paying. he could not say he could imagine many others in her position would do the same.

it aligned their goals neatly together, though tion's own motivation were far less altruistic. his benevolence toward the smallfolk was not born from kindness, but because they were a vital resource. their loyalty, their labour, and their contributions was what secured the life they lived, and as a man who had grown with very little, he understood that better than most. she was right to note that kindness was not enough - but kindness and action together could be powerful, especially when directed to those who had little means to ask for either. he had seen it in practice in starpike, and knew well it was a strategy at work. "i fear you do me too much credit," he pointed out. "i wish i could say my motivations were altruistic, rather than simple pragmatism. i fear what could happen if the smallfolk are neglected, and i do not wish to pay the price for it. starpike was less a challenge to the status quo, and more a case of investing in a future i could see for myself and my people."

he nodded his head at her plan, his lips twitching in something that was not quite a smile, but was close. "it is a good plan," he agreed, his tone measured. "we should be prepared before we go charging in with solutions they did not ask for. listening to them is the first step." it mattered not to him what it was thy asked for - what mattered was that it delivered results, that it fostered trust when it might waver in the face of the sabotage. laena's earnestness could open doors in that regard, even though it was a matter of necessity, and not sentiment, to tion. "it is important we do not offer promises doomed to fail - but listening to them is the first step in ensuring that isn't the case."

he paused for a moment, mulling over the options before them. "speak to your contacts. and when you are ready, we will go to starpike together." they had a long road ahead of them, but it felt like a start, like someone was finally listening, and that had tion more hopeful than he had been all day. "you've the heart for this, my lady," his smile turning more genuine. "between the two of us, i think we can strike a good balance."

[fromspringandfire]

( end of thread. )

laena watched as the pebble disappeared beneath the water, swallowed whole with barely a sound. the ripples spread outward in quiet, perfect circles, each one reaching further before fading into nothing.

“you don’t sound a fool,” she said, a quiet amusement in her tone. “you sound like someone who still believes in joy. i think that’s rarer than you know.”

her fingers tightened slightly where they brushed against the silk of her sleeve. she let her gaze follow the ripples across the water’s surface, thinking of how fragile it all was—this moment, this peace. it was hard to imagine a place like this scorched by dragonfire, hard to picture these waters blackened with soot and ash instead of lantern-light. but she knew it had happened. she had seen the aftermath before, walked through cities where only bones remained to tell their stories.

and yet, she had never had to stand in the fire herself. then, with a quiet breath, she let it go. not today.

instead, she turned back to fiadh, her expression shifting, the weight of reflection giving way to something lighter. a small, knowing smile touched her lips as she lifted a hand, gesturing toward a nearby stall where golden honey cakes were stacked in tempting little piles. she accepted the warmth of the other's arm without hesitation, letting herself be led through the festival as if they had always walked this way together.

“honey cakes? i haven't had the pleasure. let’s start with those,” she said, amusement flickering in her voice. “if they’re as good as you say, it would be a shame to miss out.”

lilac hues followed the revelers as they walked, the ones dancing in the shallows, the children darting between food stalls, faces sticky with honey. it was easy to imagine losing herself in a place like this, slipping into the warmth of a world that asked nothing of her but to exist in its glow. “i don’t think you talk too much,” she said, casting the other woman a glance. “it’s nice, actually. you speak like someone who wants to hold on to good things, to make sure they don’t slip away before they’re properly felt.”

her eyes flickered toward the table where the honey cakes waited, golden and glistening beneath the lantern light. she gestured toward them with a tilt of her head, amusement curving her lips.

“and if you’re still worried, you can always let me ramble about how i’ve somehow gone this long without trying one of those.”

[fromspringandfire]

laena listened, the weight in rhaegar’s voice settling over her like the cool hush of twilight. her fingers twisting at the golden bands upon them. but her attention was wholly on him—on the quiet yearning threaded through his words, the ache of a man reaching for something he had not yet touched.

she understood that ache.

her gaze drifted to the water beyond them, dark now, save for the glimmers of light dancing atop gentle ripples. she watched how the reflections stretched and broke apart with every shift, never quite holding their shape. it reminded her of the past—how it fractured, how it lingered still, never allowing them to step back into what had been.

she exhaled softly. “belonging… it’s not as distant as it feels.” her voice was gentle, but there was a quiet conviction beneath it. “we can chase what we’ve lost, or we can build something new with what’s left. i don’t know which is right, but… you’ve already taken the first step.”

her eyes met his, searching his face in the dim light. “sometimes, trying is the bravest thing we can do.”

there was a pause, the air between them thick with unspoken things—grief, hope, the fragile thread of understanding that had always bound them, even across the years.

laena smiled then, small and earnest. “you’ve always mattered to me, rhaegar. not because you’re a prince. not because of what you’ve lost. just… because you’re you.”

her fingers stilled against her dress. “whatever you choose to make of this second chance… you won’t be doing it alone.”

she offered a smile, warm and encouraging. “we’re still here,” she murmured, as much to herself as to him. “that’s something, isn’t it?”

Rhaegar listened, his eyes softening as Laena’s words settled over him like the fading warmth of the sun. Her question lingered, pulling at threads he hadn’t yet dared to unravel fully. He glanced toward the horizon where the light waned, streaks of amber and rose giving way to twilight’s quiet embrace. The sight reminded him of the sunsets she’d mentioned. Their shared moments as children, untainted by the weight of what they would both one day carry.

Her voice had been steady, and her encouragement sincere, but Rhaegar felt the edges of hesitation within himself. Finally, he spoke, his voice low, as though sharing something fragile. “I’ve thought about that - about what this second chance means. For so long, I didn’t believe I had one. I thought the years I spent away had severed me from what I was… who I was. But now?” He hesitated, the faintest flicker of vulnerability in his expression. “Now, I wonder if I might find a way to get there again.”

He turned his gaze back to her, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know where to begin, Lae. Westeros has changed, and so have I. But perhaps that’s the point. I think… I think I want to belong. Not just as a prince or as a name, but as someone who matters - to my family, to this land.”

Alicent's voice forced its way into his mind, his grandmother as much authority in death as she had been when he had last seen her. Remember, Rhaegar, it is not enough to burn brightly. You must leave something behind. Otherwise, what is your fire for?

Rhaegar’s fingers danced along the edge of his cloak, his movements slow and deliberate. “I want to rebuild what I lost. Or, rather, what was taken from me. To understand who I am in this world now that it’s no longer defined by the shadows I’ve lived in. I’ve seen too much darkness to believe in easy answers, but…” He paused, glancing back at her with a hint of quiet determination. “But I want to try. For myself. For those that are still left.”

[fromspringandfire]

laena watched as the pebble disappeared beneath the water, swallowed whole with barely a sound. the ripples spread outward in quiet, perfect circles, each one reaching further before fading into nothing.

“you don’t sound a fool,” she said, a quiet amusement in her tone. “you sound like someone who still believes in joy. i think that’s rarer than you know.”

her fingers tightened slightly where they brushed against the silk of her sleeve. she let her gaze follow the ripples across the water’s surface, thinking of how fragile it all was—this moment, this peace. it was hard to imagine a place like this scorched by dragonfire, hard to picture these waters blackened with soot and ash instead of lantern-light. but she knew it had happened. she had seen the aftermath before, walked through cities where only bones remained to tell their stories.

and yet, she had never had to stand in the fire herself. then, with a quiet breath, she let it go. not today.

instead, she turned back to fiadh, her expression shifting, the weight of reflection giving way to something lighter. a small, knowing smile touched her lips as she lifted a hand, gesturing toward a nearby stall where golden honey cakes were stacked in tempting little piles. she accepted the warmth of the other's arm without hesitation, letting herself be led through the festival as if they had always walked this way together.

“honey cakes? i haven't had the pleasure. let’s start with those,” she said, amusement flickering in her voice. “if they’re as good as you say, it would be a shame to miss out.”

lilac hues followed the revelers as they walked, the ones dancing in the shallows, the children darting between food stalls, faces sticky with honey. it was easy to imagine losing herself in a place like this, slipping into the warmth of a world that asked nothing of her but to exist in its glow. “i don’t think you talk too much,” she said, casting the other woman a glance. “it’s nice, actually. you speak like someone who wants to hold on to good things, to make sure they don’t slip away before they’re properly felt.”

her eyes flickered toward the table where the honey cakes waited, golden and glistening beneath the lantern light. she gestured toward them with a tilt of her head, amusement curving her lips.

“and if you’re still worried, you can always let me ramble about how i’ve somehow gone this long without trying one of those.”

there was warmth in fiadh's eyes when she looked at laena, the corners crinkling when she grinned. "hmm," she said, tucking a strand of copper-gold hair behind her ear. the wind had other ideas, promptly sending strands dancing back across her face. "well, it's everything really," there was an eagerness on her face, bright as the flames upon the water. "i mean, the traditions are lovely, but it's more than that. i always feel like it's almost as though the world's on the cusp of something good, or at least, everyone believes that it is, just for a night."

she gestured to the festivities around them, bidding laena to look. "it's not a grand thing like what they had in the west for their little prince. not something you have to put on your finest and be on your best behaviour. it's just - joy. there's not a soul here who doesn't have a smile on their face and their guard down. you want to take your shoes off and run barefoot through the shallows, or dance until your legs give out, nobody's going to judge you for it."

she could feel her face flushing, and she chuckled, nudging a pebble with her foot until it sank into the water with a plop. "i probably sound like a right little fool, don't i? i don't know. i think it's one of those things people either get or they don't." she offered her arm to laena to link if she wanted to walk, a gesture far more familiar than to suggest they had only met that night. "there's also the honey cakes. always a highlight. have you had one yet?"

she knew not where she was leading laena, only that she was enjoying her company enough to want to prolong it past a simple conversation by the sunwheels. "sorry, i know i talk too much." she uttered it not to be self-deprecating, her words matter-of-fact. "what about you, though? is the riverlands treating you well? have there been any standouts for you, so far?" there was genuine curiosity behind the question.

[fromspringandfire]

jodie comer via instagram

[fromspringandfire]

( end of thread. )

laena stood quietly, the flickering firelight casting shadows that seemed to dance around her like forgotten memories. she had said too much, as she always did when her heart was heavy. she could feel the weight of cedric's gaze, the fire in his eyes not only tracing her every move but also seeing past the layers she kept hidden. she knew he meant no harm, but it felt as though he had peeled her bare for a moment. she wanted to leave, wanted to retreat to somewhere far from the whispers that followed her, but a part of her knew that would only feel emptier.

she didn’t look at him as he moved closer, his hands steady but gentle as they enveloped her own. the warmth of his touch settled over her, grounding her, even as her mind sought escape. she couldn’t outrun what lay between them, couldn’t flee the connection that had always tied her to him in ways she couldn’t explain. his words, though soft, cut deeper than she’d expected, and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady her breath.

"please," she whispered, her voice tinged with the vulnerability she often buried. "i don’t want to be a burden. i just..." her voice faltered, but she couldn’t let him feel the full depth of her uncertainty. she opened her eyes to meet his, her breath catching as he spoke of outrunning this, of the inevitable distance between them that would come of it. there was a certain honesty in his voice, and it stilled the turmoil that had been churning inside her. she had been running—running from what, exactly? the idea of her place here, of being judged, of being seen as nothing more than a piece of the court’s politics? but here, with cedric, she was simply laena. she knew that.

but then his words shifted, and her heart did too. stay. he had said, the word not just a request but something deeper, something rooted in a quiet plea. his touch on her neck sent a warmth through her that contrasted with the coldness that had settled in her bones. her fingers responding by filling the spaces between his own. the teasing lightness of his voice followed, pulling a smile from her that softened her gaze.

the tension of the moment still hung between them, but her words carried a lightness that didn't diminish the gravity of their conversation. "i don’t know how kindly your court would take to your mistress banishing you to the stables," she said, her voice teasing but with an undercurrent of sincerity, "but don’t tempt me."

she paused, her fingers tracing the fabric of her gown absently, grounding herself in the silence that followed. there was no need for further words, no need to fill the space with unnecessary sounds. laena’s eyes never left cedric as she added, quieter now, her tone steady and assured.

"i’ll stay."

it wasn’t just for him, though the thought of him remained present in her heart. it was for herself, too—for the part of her that knew her place was here, not running, not hiding, but facing what needed to be faced.

laena took his hand gently, guiding his fingers to her lips. she paused for a moment, pressing his fingertips softly against her mouth, her gaze momentarily shifting. the warmth of his touch lingered on her skin, and her gaze softened. without breaking the connection, she slowly moved his hand to her cheek, holding it there with a tender touch.

her eyes lifted to meet his, violet meeting florent blue, steady and sure, yet warm with something unspoken. she exhaled, her voice barely a whisper, the weight of everything between them lingering in the air. "stay with me tonight?" she said, her voice, a question yet a statement, steady but soft, vulnerable in a way only she allowed herself to be with him.

[fromspringandfire]

laena’s fingers brushed the embroidery of her dress as she listened, her gaze thoughtful. “braavos sounds like a place that doesn’t offer much kindness,” she said softly, her voice steady but tinged with a quiet sadness. “beauty and shadows, wealth and desperation… it seems like the kind of place that can shape you as much as it tests you.”

she tilted her head slightly, her eyes meeting his. “but hearing you speak of it... i can’t help but think you’ve taken something from it, even if it wasn’t joy. the way you describe the canals and the people—it feels as if you saw beyond the surface, even if you say you learned to see nothing.” a faint smile tugged at her lips. “maybe that’s its lesson, in a way. to sharpen you, just as they sharpen their blades.”

her expression softened further as her voice dropped slightly. “but it sounds lonely, rhaegar. i’m sorry it wasn’t a place where you could grow the way you deserved to.” she paused, brushing a strand of hair from her face as the evening light glimmered over them. “still, i’m glad you’ve come back. whatever braavos gave you—or took from you—you’re here now.”

her gaze drifted toward the horizon briefly, where the sky was deepening with the last rays of sunlight. “it’s funny,” she mused. “you said their sunsets couldn’t match the ones we used to watch in king’s landing. i wonder if it’s because of the place itself, or if it’s the company that makes the difference.” she glanced back at him, a gentle smile playing at her lips. “for me, it’s always been the company.”

laena tilted her head slightly, her gaze soft as she regarded rhaegar. “you’ve seen so much,” she said gently. “and it sounds like east gave you plenty to think about, even if it didn’t give you much to enjoy. but now that you’re back, where do you hope to begin again? what do you see for yourself here, in westeros?”

her lips curved into a faint, encouraging smile. “i hope you find a place where you can carve your space in the world. you deserve that.” she paused, her tone softening further. “after all you’ve experienced, what do you want to make of this second chance?”

Rhaegar studied her as she spoke, his gaze soft but searching. Laena’s hesitations, the way her fingers brushed her dress, the flicker of nerves in her smile - it all spoke louder than her words. He knew better than to press. They both carried their burdens, and some weights weren’t meant to be shared all at once.

“You’ve always been one to create something whole from broken pieces,” he said gently, a small smile touching his lips. “I can see why you’d find solace in Longtable. And in sewing.” His tone held a note of admiration, tinged with a wistfulness that was difficult to place. “It suits you, Lae. Building, mending, finding purpose in what others might overlook.”

When she asked about Braavos, his smile tightened, his shoulders shifting slightly as though under an invisible weight. “Braavos…” he began, his voice trailing off as he chose his words carefully. “It’s a city of contrasts. Beauty and shadows, wealth and desperation. You see everything there, and yet, you learn to see nothing at all.” His hand brushed through his silver hair, the gesture almost absent. “The canals are like veins running through its heart. And the people… they’re as sharp and unyielding as the blades they wield.”

He hesitated, his voice softening. “I saw much, Laena, but enjoyed little. It wasn’t a place for boys to grow into men.” There was a fleeting vulnerability in his words, but he quickly masked it. “Still, I’m here now.”

He reached out, resting his hand briefly over hers where it still lingered on his arm. “Some stories, perhaps, are better for another time. For both of us.” His smile deepened slightly, warmer now. “But I will tell you one thing about Braavos. The sunsets there never quite matched the ones we’d watch as children, here in King's Landing.”

[fromspringandfire]

laena’s gaze shifted to the garden, her eyes lingering on the delicate sway of the flowers, almost as though the motion could give her the words she needed. she watched the light flicker throughout the landscape, the vibrant hues of colors casting shadows across the path, but it was the weight of myriam’s gaze that drew her focus, not the setting. the dornish woman had a way of drawing answers out of people, but laena had never been this open with anyone before—at least, not in this way.

“i don’t think it’s a crime to speak plainly,” laena murmured with a shy smile, though the words seemed to carry more weight than she intended. “it’s just... no one has really asked me questions like these before.” she gave a soft, airy laugh.

“i’m sure they do, judge me for it,” she said quietly, her tone thoughtful, the words hanging in the air between them. “i’ve heard the whispers, the stares that come with a moment too long. but no one has said it outright. not yet, at least.” she shifted her weight slightly, as though the vulnerability of her own thoughts unsettled her. her eyes turned back to myriam, and she gave a quiet, almost resigned shrug. “for now, i’ll carry what i can. i’ve made peace with the fact that i may never be more than what I am to some. but as long as i can stand on my own… well, that’s something.”

laena’s fingers tightened around the stem of her goblet, the weight of the wine shifting slightly within. she took a careful sip, letting the cool liquid settle on her tongue, but as myriam’s question pierced the air, her breath caught. for a moment, she almost choked, a quiet cough escaping her as the words settled in her chest.

“my gods,” she murmured, eyes downcast, trying to hide the slight embarrassment of the moment. she cleared her throat again, careful this time as she set the goblet down on the stone bench beside her.

the question lingered, heavy in the air, pulling at the edges of her thoughts. she took a deep breath, smoothing the front of her dress as she gave a nervous, almost apologetic laugh.

“i—” she began, her voice shaky for just a moment, “i never truly thought about it in those terms. it’s... it’s not something i’ve... been asked before.”

she looked up at Myriam, the openness of the conversation making her feel more vulnerable than she would have liked. “i suppose...” She trailed off, clearly trying to weigh her words carefully. “it’s not something i would easily agree to. not without... far more than just a fleeting thought or a passing suggestion.” her gaze turned distant for a moment, a flicker of something more personal in her eyes as she added, “there are lines, you know? and some things are not as simple as they might seem. why? do you...do you think he'd...inquire?"

❂

myriam’s laugh was low and silken, curling like smoke in the golden air between them. “well damn, lady laena,” she began, her voice rich with the lilt of dorne, “if forthrightness is a crime, i fear i’ve committed it a thousand times over. it’s a terrible flaw of mine, really. i see something—or someone—that intrigues me, and my curiosity takes the reins. i’ve no talent for restraint, i’m afraid.” she leaned forward slightly, the intricate embroidery of her bronze lehenga catching the fading sunlight. the movement brought her closer to laena, her dark, glinting eyes holding the other woman’s gaze with unapologetic intensity.

the lady gave her a nervous laugh, and yet, myriam continued to look upon her; hand going beneath her chin and leaning forward as though they were having a private conversation. "what other king has a mistress, hm?" myriam asked, a slight brow raising as she reached forward to accept another goblet of wine. she'd prefer something stronger at this point. "you've opened a window; people will start doing this. you'll see - come and find me in a year."

a pause hung between them, myriam’s fingers brushing idly against the stem of her goblet. her lips curved into a smile—soft, yet edged with mischief. “freedom earned by treading lightly,” she mused, letting the words roll off her tongue as though tasting their weight. “how poetic—and yet, how exhausting that must be. to balance on the edge of others’ expectations while carving out a space for yourself.” she took a sip of her sweetened wine, her nails—painted in a deep crimson—tapping softly against the goblet. as she set it down, her gaze flicked briefly to the other women gathered in the garden, their laughter and murmurs a backdrop to the more intimate conversation unfolding between her and laena.

“but tell me this, laena—do they truly judge you for it? i don’t mean the whispers, the sharp-edged smiles that don’t quite reach their eyes. that’s expected, isn’t it? no, i mean... do they wield their judgement like a weapon?"

she tilted her head, her dark curls cascading over her shoulder, framing her face in a shadowed halo. “you see, in dorne, the idea of a paramour is hardly scandalous. passion is as natural as the sun, and no one bats an eye if it shines in unexpected places. but here...” she gestured faintly to the scene around them, her gold bangles clinking softly. “here, i imagine the sun doesn’t shine so freely.” her voice softened, curiosity deepening in her tone. leaning back again, myriam’s expression softened further, though her curiosity remained sharp. “or am i mistaken? i’ve pried too much, haven’t i?” her lips curled into a cheeky smile as she ran a finger along the rim of her goblet, her full lips stained with the colour of the wine.

"would you join him and his wife or is that a no?"

[fromspringandfire]

the gardens were quiet, the soft rustle of leaves and the distant hum of insects the only sounds accompanying the conversation. the late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, dappling the ground with shifting patterns of light. laena stood near a cluster of blooming roses, their scent faint but sweet in the air, her hands resting lightly at her sides as she regarded tion.

the warmth of his words had not gone unnoticed, but laena chose her response carefully, her gaze steady. "it’s kind of you to say, lord peake," she began, her voice soft but assured, carrying no pretense. "though kindness alone rarely changes the world. action does."

she took a small step forward, the hem of her gown brushing against the soft earth. "what you did in starpike—giving the smallfolk land to sow their futures—that wasn’t just a gift. it was a challenge to the way things are. i admire that more than I can say."

a breeze stirred the leaves, carrying the scent of flowers and the faintest chill of evening. laena smiled, small and sincere. "before anything, we should listen,” she said, her voice quiet but resolute. if we don’t understand why—what they need, what they’re angry for—how can we hope to help them?” it was rhetorical, of course, almost more thinking aloud than asking for an answer. "i think simply, we begin by going to them, to starpike."

she looked toward tion, the sunlight catching in her violet eyes, determination softening her features. “before we leave, i can send word to my contacts in longtable. they’ll know what rumors are circulating, what the people are saying behind closed doors, what wounds still fester. if we go prepared, with some understanding of what we’re walking into, it’ll be easier to gain their trust.” she inhaled deeply.

"how does that sound to you, my lord?"

tion inclined his head slightly, a mark of his rapidly growing respect for laena oldflowers. hers was not a name he had thought much about beyond the gossip of the court, but he could feel her conviction, not the kind born from obligation, or because she was hoping for a favour, but the rare sort that grew from genuine belief.

"it is not," he agreed. "so i had to ask." a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, even as his eyes remained tired. "i'll question you no further. far be it for me to stand in the way of someone who believes they are doing right. especially when i think they're correct in that belief." he had given her the option to walk away, but he could not say he was displeased she had not taken it.

there was a quiet conviction in the way that she spoke that he found disarming. he had not quite expected such openness from her, though it made this situation far simpler to navigate. "it was how i turned things around," he admitted. "in starpike. i started with the smallfolk. gave them land for nothing just to kickstart the trade flowing. i know well they hold more power than many here would care to admit."

laena was not one of them. she spoke of her childhood, and he felt like he understood a little more why this mattered to her. "and so you seek to ensure they are not." he finished for her, filling in the blanks of her motivations.

his weight shifted slightly, his rings catching the sunlight as tion folded his hands before him. "whatever you have to offer, i'll be glad to accept, my lady. and i do not forget those who help me when i need it. especially when it comes without a price attached to it." laena had asked for nothing but the pursuit of a goal it was clear tion was aligned with, one that was to his own benefit, but it was important to him that it was known that he was not a man who only took, one who was willing to repay any favour granted him.

there was a pause where he studied her, looking for any hesitation beneath her words, but he found none. "you've more to teach the rest of us than you give yourself credit for," he said, eventually. "what can i do to help?"

[fromspringandfire]

laena stood quietly, the flickering firelight casting shadows that seemed to dance around her like forgotten memories. she had said too much, as she always did when her heart was heavy. she could feel the weight of cedric's gaze, the fire in his eyes not only tracing her every move but also seeing past the layers she kept hidden. she knew he meant no harm, but it felt as though he had peeled her bare for a moment. she wanted to leave, wanted to retreat to somewhere far from the whispers that followed her, but a part of her knew that would only feel emptier.

she didn’t look at him as he moved closer, his hands steady but gentle as they enveloped her own. the warmth of his touch settled over her, grounding her, even as her mind sought escape. she couldn’t outrun what lay between them, couldn’t flee the connection that had always tied her to him in ways she couldn’t explain. his words, though soft, cut deeper than she’d expected, and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady her breath.

"please," she whispered, her voice tinged with the vulnerability she often buried. "i don’t want to be a burden. i just..." her voice faltered, but she couldn’t let him feel the full depth of her uncertainty. she opened her eyes to meet his, her breath catching as he spoke of outrunning this, of the inevitable distance between them that would come of it. there was a certain honesty in his voice, and it stilled the turmoil that had been churning inside her. she had been running—running from what, exactly? the idea of her place here, of being judged, of being seen as nothing more than a piece of the court’s politics? but here, with cedric, she was simply laena. she knew that.

but then his words shifted, and her heart did too. stay. he had said, the word not just a request but something deeper, something rooted in a quiet plea. his touch on her neck sent a warmth through her that contrasted with the coldness that had settled in her bones. her fingers responding by filling the spaces between his own. the teasing lightness of his voice followed, pulling a smile from her that softened her gaze.

the tension of the moment still hung between them, but her words carried a lightness that didn't diminish the gravity of their conversation. "i don’t know how kindly your court would take to your mistress banishing you to the stables," she said, her voice teasing but with an undercurrent of sincerity, "but don’t tempt me."

she paused, her fingers tracing the fabric of her gown absently, grounding herself in the silence that followed. there was no need for further words, no need to fill the space with unnecessary sounds. laena’s eyes never left cedric as she added, quieter now, her tone steady and assured.

"i’ll stay."

it wasn’t just for him, though the thought of him remained present in her heart. it was for herself, too—for the part of her that knew her place was here, not running, not hiding, but facing what needed to be faced.

laena took his hand gently, guiding his fingers to her lips. she paused for a moment, pressing his fingertips softly against her mouth, her gaze momentarily shifting. the warmth of his touch lingered on her skin, and her gaze softened. without breaking the connection, she slowly moved his hand to her cheek, holding it there with a tender touch.

her eyes lifted to meet his, violet meeting florent blue, steady and sure, yet warm with something unspoken. she exhaled, her voice barely a whisper, the weight of everything between them lingering in the air. "stay with me tonight?" she said, her voice, a question yet a statement, steady but soft, vulnerable in a way only she allowed herself to be with him.

♠

the room was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the hearth, its warmth a poor match for the icy tension between them. cedric stood motionless, her words weighing on him like stones in a river, shaping the flow of his thoughts but never halting them. the flicker of firelight caught in his ocean hues eyes as he looked at laena, her form so fragile yet unyielding, her beauty as much a weapon as her wit to those that would have attempted to place her on a chessboard. "to think about what?" he asked, his tone incredulous; it was a slip in his usual composed manner, he found himself wondering why it was she was so desperate to think herself into a state of depression and tears. "what is there to think about? it's all done." her trembling hands, her averted gaze—each detail carved an ache into him; because it was pointed that he had not been able to address what she needed as a person, and instead needed to address the larger matter.

it was then he realised he may have come across blunt, blunter than he had expected to; his hand rested upon his own temple for a moment, falling over his eyes. a slight exhale came from his lips as he moved to close the distance between them, taking hold of her hands and all but unwrapping them from her own frame, his movements soft but firm - as though he would tug her back from herself if he needed to.

“lae,” he said at last, his voice a low rumble, roughened with both tenderness and restraint. he stepped closer, his hands finding her shoulders again, steady and sure. his touch was neither demanding nor hesitant but deliberate, as though to anchor her to the ground before she drifted away. “listen to me.” he drew a breath, letting the weight of the moment settle before continuing.

“you speak of leaving, of distance, as though it would grant you clarity. but you cannot outrun this, laena. not what this is.” his fingers shifted, sliding from her shoulders to her upper arms, his thumbs brushing against the fine fabric of her gown; every movement of his hands were devoid from the sensuality in which his hands usually ran across her body, and he noted it; a slight expression flickering over his features - one of realisation.

“were it not for everything that keeps me bound here, you know i would assure you i'd come and see you.” he paused, his words settling between them like the fall of a blade. the silence stretched, heavy and laden with unspoken truths. “i know the court weighs on you. i know the rumours, the whispers, the eyes that watch your every move. and i know my choices have put you in a position no one deserves to be in. but if you go...” his voice stopped, and he felt the literal weight of them in his throat. but he spoke them, and he spoke them as though it were something they would both need to accept. and when he spoke, it ws stronger this time.

“if you go, i cannot follow. and i wouldn't." they had agreed on what they were; and cedric had learned much regarding running. running away from their true nature, or from his, or from what needed to be done. for all his faults, cedric tyrell no longer ran from anything.

his hands moved once more, one sliding to the curve of her neck, his palm warm against her cool skin. his thumb brushed her jawline, tilting her face upward until their eyes met; a clash of the most striking of blues and the most magical of violet. “stay,” he murmured, the word carrying the weight of a plea and a command all at once. “you say you need time. then take it. will you banish me to the stables?" he asked, an exasperated, wry smile crossing his features as he looked down upon her; whilst it were obvious she felt a sense of heaviness, it were too common they found themselves quietly teasing one another.

he stepped closer, the space between them narrowing until it seemed as though the air itself tightened around them. “leaving would undo everything you've stood on, and everything you’ve fought to present about yourself. there will always be those who judge, but...” and his arms dropped from her body now, absentmindedly at first; there was a slight expression that shifted in her gaze when his touch slipped from her. "if there were ever a time to prove yourself to be a reachwoman, it's now." any grieving, any issues, she could do in the private of her own apartment - with him, or with any she trusted. but to the eyes of the court of thorns and roses, she was a reachwoman standing by a court which seemed to ready itself to come into conflict with new valyria over the treachery of the hightowers.

[fromspringandfire]

the gardens of casterly rock shimmered in the golden light of sunset, every detail a study in wealth and artistry. laena sat at the fringes of the gathering, her gown a soft lavender that hinted at her modesty more than her station. she was unused to the bold, glittering company of women like myriam allyrion, whose confidence radiated as brightly as the jewels adorning her.

when the woman spoke, laena blinked, startled by the directness of her words. her hands tightened slightly around the stem of her goblet, the pale wine within rippling. “endlessly fascinating?” she repeated, the corners of her mouth lifting in a faint smile, though her uncertainty lingered in her eyes. “i don’t know that i’ve ever been called that before.”

myriam’s gaze didn’t waver, and her boldness left laena feeling both flattered and exposed. as the dornishwoman leaned forward, curiosity crackling between them, laena hesitated. the weight of such a question, posed so casually, yet with sharp intent, felt heavier than the setting sun.

“you’re very... forthright,” she said softly, her voice tinged with an almost shy amusement. “it’s not something I’m quite used to.” she glanced down at the table, collecting her thoughts, before lifting her gaze back to meet myriam’s. the deep curve of the dornishwoman’s neckline, the shimmer of her attire, the ease in her posture, it all exuded a confidence laena felt worlds away from.

“my... arrangement,” she began carefully, her tone measured, “isn’t what many would call traditional. but i think you already know that.” she gave a small, almost self-conscious laugh. “it’s not something i often discuss, you see. there’s freedom in it, yes—freedom to pursue what I enjoy, to help where I can, to create.” her voice grew softer, more reflective. “but it’s a freedom earned by treading lightly."

her gaze lingered on myriam, taking in the effortless confidence and unapologetic ease that seemed to radiate from her. “you carry a freedom i can hardly imagine, your grace. perhaps it’s the dornish spirit—or perhaps it’s simply who you are.”

laena hesitated, her cheeks still faintly flushed as she glanced down at the delicate stitching of her dress, a creation of her own hands. “though perhaps… i’ve found a small freedom here, too,” she admitted, almost to herself. her fingers traced the edge of her goblet as she looked back up at myriam, a hint of curiosity softening her shyness. “the fact that i can even speak of these things with someone, without fear of whispers or judgment, it feels like a freedom in itself.”

leaning forward slightly, laena shifted uncomfortably at first, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. she then found a newfound sense of confidence, her voice quieter but edged with intrigue. “you have a way of seeing things others miss, of asking questions most would shy away from. if there’s anything you’re curious about, i'd be willing to answer. i’m not often given the chance to speak freely.”

who: @fromspringandfire when and where: semi-flashback, one of the many great celebrations within casterly rock for the announcement of prince arthur lannister, myriam allyrion attends a celebration set outdoors hosted by queen katherine, consisting mostly of women. context: myriam is very curious about being a mistress in other regions, and who better to speak to about it than laena?

the evening sun bathed casterly rock’s gardens in a golden glow, gilding the elaborate feast spread before the gathered women. myriam allyrion leaned back in her chair, her bronze lehenga shimmering as though it held the sunlight itself. the deep curve of the neckline left her tattoos on full display, curling up her neck like the roots of some exotic tree. she swirled her goblet of sweetened wine, a faint smile tugging at her lips as her dark eyes settled on the woman across from her—laena oldflowers.

“you know,” myriam began, her voice low and honeyed, as though the conversation was to remain between them. perhaps because she knew some would overhear them and judge laena so; no doubt they called her a great whore. “there are few things i’ve wondered about the reach, but i find you... endlessly fascinating.” she set the goblet down, leaning forward slightly, her golden jewellery catching the light with the movement. “not just for who you are, though that is interesting enough. the bastard sister of a king—how many tales have been spun about you, i wonder? but no, it’s your... arrangement with the tyrell king that truly intrigues me.”

her lips curved further, the smile verging on wicked. “tell me, lady laena, what is it like to live as a mistress in the reach?" the dornish were known for their relaxed nature when it came to matters of physicality, of sex and of lust; she did not blink an eye for the position which this woman had obtained, nor how she had managed to do it. what she was truly curious about was the reaction of the rest of the court; the reach seemed religious at surface level, but myriam knew all too well it were reachmen who seemed to find themselves fixated with dornish women.

always the first to grace their bedroom threshold, and the last to leave once they found themselves transfixed.

she leaned back again, her expression softening just slightly, though the curiosity in her gaze remained sharp as her dark cascade fell on either side of the curve of her blouse. she was in a state of complete relaxation speaking to the woman, a glimpse of her bare leg folded over the skirts; enough to see the glimpse of an anklet. “i ask because i’ve always wondered about freedom. what it looks like, what it feels like. in dorne, our ways are... different, of course. but even there, the weight of expectations are still a thing." her fingers played idly with the rim of her goblet as she spoke, her eyes never leaving laena’s face.

“but you, you seem to walk a path all your own. not bound by the rules that trap the rest of us. or am i mistaken?” she tilted her head, the question lingering like the heady scent of the roses surrounding them. if laena knew myriam well, she would be able to notice the slight glimmer in her vivid orbs indicated curiosity. a spark of life; her lips as sweet as the wine she found herself happily indulging in. she paused, then let out a low, throaty laugh as her hand moved over her lips, nails painted in a dark crimson. “forgive me, i’ve pried too much, haven’t i? it’s a flaw of mine—this insatiable curiosity. of all of us dornish, to be honest. but can you blame me?"

[fromspringandfire]

laena’s steps slowed as tion spoke, her attention fixed on the steady rhythm of her own breathing. the conversation weighed on her, not in a burdensome way, but with the quiet gravity of responsibility. she didn’t rush to reply, her hands smoothing over the soft fabric of her skirt as if grounding herself before she spoke.

her violet eyes flicked to tion briefly, then back to the ground, her expression thoughtful. “i understand why you’d ask,” she said at last, her voice gentle but firm. she wasn’t offended, if anything, she found his question reassuring. “it’s no small thing to involve oneself in matters like this. but it’s something I believe in.”

laena paused, a faint smile curling at the corners of her lips, though there was a shadow of something more, nostalgia, perhaps, or even sadness. “the smallfolk are at the heart of everything, though many seem to forget. their struggles ripple outward, affecting all of us, whether we acknowledge it or not.”

she turned slightly, her gaze settling on the garden beyond them. the vibrant greens of highgarden’s foliage seemed brighter under the midday sun, but her focus was distant. “when I was younger, it wasn’t court I saw,” she continued quietly. “it was farmhands and fishmongers, their stories stitched into the fabric of my days. they don’t ask for much, but when they’re overlooked... well, it leaves cracks in the foundation.”

a subtle shift in her posture brought her attention back to tion, her expression softening into something earnest. “i think stepping away from court might remind me of that, of what really matters. it’s easy to forget when you’re surrounded by whispers and gilded halls.” her fingers brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, a gesture as natural as the sincerity in her tone. “if i can help starpike, i’ll be helping the reach, and that’s enough for me.”

she took a step forward, her tone thoughtful. “i’m not saying i have all the answers, but i do have some understanding of what might help. with longtable, i spent time with the widows and the farmers. they taught me far more than i taught them, i’d wager.” her fingers lightly brushed the stone railing of the garden’s edge as she looked out. “it’s easier to listen when you’re not standing so far above.”

she spoke of the impact of the granaries, the way these things trickled upwards, and tion could not help but to laugh. it was not a thing of mockery - but relief, that finally someone understood his point. the man he had argued with simply had not got it, but he did not need to know much more to know that she could see the issue, all too clearly. it was enough to confirm that he was not going mad here, driving himself up the wall with issues that did not matter.

"apologies my lady. i did not mean to laugh." it was inappropriate, he knew, but he meant no malice. "i assure you, it is not at you. i am simply glad to speak to someone who can see where i am coming from." there was a sincerity in the way she spoke, and he'd found that an all too rare commodity since assuming his office. this did not feel like a matter of politicking - simply human decency.

he fell quiet, then, allowing her the space to speak as he considered her words, allowing them to settle like stones dropped in water. as much as it was gratifying to hear her echo the very sentiments that he had himself, it were also troubling. he'd almost rather be paranoid than face the truth that there were more to this, a thread to unravel. it was a game that he did not relish in being made to play. his hand ran over his beard, as it often did when he was deep in thought.

"i won't deny it," he spoke quietly, regaining some of the composure that he usually held when in public. "the idea of having a second pair of ears on this is most welcome. particularly when it opens paths closed to me," he looked at her then, giving her a nod of acknowledgement. "but i have to ask you, are you certain this is something you wish to involve yourself with?" he knew not if there even was a conspiracy behind all of this, or simply his imagination at work, but if it were the former, they were both wading in murkier waters.

still, the corners of his mouth turned upwards in a smile, though there was a weariness to it. "and starpike would be happy to host you," he said. he hoped to consider longtable an ally, and so even if laena's questioning turned up nothing untoward, it was not a bad idea to extend an open invitation for her visit. "i am appreciative of the assistance, my lady. it makes it far less daunting than trying to navigate alone."