#||threads -- elyse 01||

[casimirtully]

|| casimir & elyse ||

when: during the timeskip

where: riverrun, the riverlands. 

@goldcnaura

Casimir Tully seemed to have an ever growing list of anxieties. Longer and longer it seemed to trail down the page, and in the recent nights, he found himself starring at the ceiling more than he found himself sleeping. His people, his family -- safety, security, and how he’d go about ensuring all of it. It was stark change to his life nearly a year ago, when he’d been breathing in the dry Essos air and taking his anger out on his foes with a quick draw of his blade. 

But, he was sure he’d done at least one thing right in his short reign. Almost sure, anyways -- because the last time he’d talked with his youngest sister, he’d taken the time to quickly remove any and all heavy or sharp objects from the room. When he’d told her she was to wed, that the time had come for her childhood to end...

That he needed her help to ensure his reign. It was something he’d never wanted for her, for any of his sisters. Casimir wanted nothing more than to give them the life that Grover had denied them, and yet... yet he had asked the same of her as their father had of him, of Iona, of their eldest sister. 

He was only almost sure, because in her eyes, he was likely no better than him. 

Casimir had woken early that morning -- rather, he’d never gone to sleep -- and had quickly set about making sure all of the preparations were complete for his sister’s arrival. Riverrun was near unrecognizable now, old rooms turned into new. Windows long closed now wide open to let in the lush air, and the place seemed... brighter than it once had. Warmer.

It was just past noon when he made his way to the courtyard, only moments before the carriage stalled to a stop. And when the horses pawed at the ground and the door open, even if he was only almost sure, he hoped he had done a good thing. That Elyse was happy as she stepped outside, and he quickly walked to meet her -- and he soon heard the faint cries of an infant, and the sound was enough to make something in his chest fill with pride. Flooded with warmth, paired with a strange feeling of relief. 

“Hello, little fish,” He said -- smiling, or as much as he did in recent months -- as he held out a hand to help her down to the ground. Would she take it? “I’ve had your rooms prepared. Two cradles.” 

[catherinestuart]

catherine squeezed andrew’s arm as some of his friends waved him over, signalling that she’d meet up with him a little later. the party was in full swing as she found her way back to the bar, ready to trade her empty glass of champagne for a new one, and the princess almost smiled wider at how different her emotions were in comparison to the stuarts’ last public outing. fervently lost in her own mind, it took her a few seconds to register the familiar blonde by her side. her cousin’s ex-fiancée, the girl who she had seen over her numerous trips to visit her father’s side of the family. catherine smiled, flickering her eyes over the duchess’ features. “elyse, long time no see.” for it had been far too long, and despite her fervent support of hans’ engagement with the italian princess, she was still fully intent in keeping tabs on germany’s political climate. “how have you been? busy as always, i assume.”  ( @elysefz​ )

[casimirtully]

|| casimir & elyse & mellara ||

location: the north, borrowtown, tully encampment 

@goldcnaura @mellaratully​

𓆟 He’d been getting little faint inklings of information -- mostly from Cedric, whom he’d practically stumbled into on the winter swept road -- since he’d arrived in Borrowtown.  There was his father’s death, of course, and the painful, gut-wrenching blow that had been Cian’s legitimization as heir and king, but that had seemed to only be the beginning. Casimir had vanished, and it almost seemed like some sort of awful domino effect. The Weirwoods in danger, mad pirates raving about shadows, the death of a dragon -- the man who had more or less always been a king, -- kidnappings running wild... his own elder sister, Wylla, one of the victims. A trial looming on the frozen horizon. And, all the while... Casimir had been worlds away dealing with his own shadows. The shadows of his father, of the betrayal, about how he’d truly been shit all to the puppet of a man who had been Grover Tully.  It seemed as if more had happened in the six months of his absence than the entirety of the war. 

And the war -- the one that had changed everything for Westeros -- had lasted ten long years. The time he’d been gone was a mere fish in a school of hundreds, and the idea of it all made his limbs feel like the water they swam through. 

But Casimir Tully had never been an anxious man. Rather, he’d once been carefree, childish, and always seeking out the next adventure or source of fun -- and while the boy had melted away into the man that now stood on the dock of the Tully encampment (if one could call the miniature floating city such a thing) that fact still stood. He was eerily calm despite the obscene amount he’d learned in the very few hours he’d been back in the thick of Westerosi politics and intrigue. Wylla had been safely returned -- and the pair of elder Tullys would be needing to have a talk eventually, but that was best left for when she’d gotten her bearings -- but Casimir could only find himself thinking of the twins. If they were safe, warm, if they were alright. His little sisters. Of Elyse and Mellara, whom he’d once been all but joined at the hip with despite the differences of their ages. 

The idea that the two young women might hate him for leaving? If he was ever going to be anxious, it was about that awful thought. But he didn’t show it as he pushed aside door, the chill of the North air quickly consumed whole by the warmth of torches within the floating space. There was a table, there, at the center -- and two red headed girls caught up in conversation that seemed to vanish into nothingness the moment his broad, tall frame stepped within. He didn’t look much like the boy that had left them behind. He’d gained weight, his body stronger, his skin more calloused. His eyes were shadowed, and his hair was growing closer to his ears in that way their father had always hated. He could finally grow a decent beard -- in short, Casimir looked like he’d been gone six years rather than six months. 

“Long time no see, little fish.” He said, almost quietly, as he pulled a thick fur from around his neck. “There wasn’t time to send a raven.”