king of thorns

{emeric tyrell.} {30.} {king of highgarden and the reach.} It starts with a seed: small and dark It starts to grow: a stem and a thorn It grows some more: twisting inward on itself Now its a bush: one that smothers It has sharp thorns and soft, black leaves. they snuff out all of the light It tightens around something soft. you cant feel it but you sense it You keep watching the plant as it grows once it was a seed, now a still growing plant until one day ...you cant ...breathe... {kinslayer.}

[mcrrec]

    @emerictyrell​ |  𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐋

     MORREC wasn’t entirely surprised to see the king of the reach entering the smith; it was the home of the master smith of dorne.   whether he had come to see morrec specifically was a different question entirely; he nodded his blonde head at the man as they made eye contact.  “aye, ‘tis the king of prickles,” he greeted with a somewhat cheeky grin.  “good to see the heat hasn’t wilted your petals too much,” he dunked his hands in a barrel of water to wash the soot from them, drying them as he turned his attention to the royal reach rose, who still had a face as imperceptible as stone.   “and how is the new blade treating you, yer grace?”  he inquired,  “i trust no troubles with it.”

[emerictyrell]

Emeric heaved a heavy, slightly agitated sigh as the sound of the blacksmith’s voice drifted into his ears. While it had been his choice to enter the smith, part of him had been hoping it would not in fact be Morrec Clegane at work that morning. He’d done the king a great favor -- but it did not erase the fact that the pair clearly seemed to get beneath one another’s skin, even if they shared a banter Emeric respected.

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

[lysarsea-deactivated20210806]

@emerictyrell​

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

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

being in his company, she could only think of dyanna. she never did reach out after she passed, she was not all aware if emeric knew of their friendship, let alone ever read through their interactions. a part of her felt as if he did not and it best to not mention, but another part of longed to see how he would react, “ i apologize for never extending a shoulder to lean on when you experienced such a wretched loss, i know how much dyanna adored you, i am sure she had the slightest of effect on you as well. ” her expression, heartless, unmatching, just as it did the second she approached him.

[emerictyrell]

Emeric had to give a long, long pause as he looked upon Lady Lysara. There were several women who had come before Dyanna -- not in the sense that he had bedded them, nor loved them. Rather, the idea of a match. Lysara had been one of several such candidates, all of which his father, Rylic, had decided would be ideal wives who could provide House Tyrell with notible alliances and wealth. Rhaena, too, had been one such choice -- though Emeric’s decision had ended with Dyanna as his wife rather than the other two. Lysara had been... an interesting woman to behold, no doubt, but she had not enamoured him in the way his late wife had. Dyanna had been... fate, he supposed, though he beleived fate was something a man could control rather than a plan laid out long before his birth. She had been intelligent, and witty -- but their relationship had ended had ended before it even began, their only connection now remaining with his dead wife and the letters he knew they sent to one another. 

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

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

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

[emerictyrell]

cedrictyrell‌:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[emerictyrell]

𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚃𝚊𝚜𝚔: 𝟶𝟶𝟸 |  𝙷𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙱𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢

CHARACTER’S NAME: Emeric Tyrell, first of his name

TITLE: King of Highgarden and The Reach, formally Ruling Lord of Highgarden                 -- “Emeric was the first born son of a second born son. He never planned on inheriting Highgarden in his youth, but soon fell prey to his father’s ambitions. After helping murder his uncle and gradfather, Emeric became heir of Highgarden. Shortly after, he would muder his father and become Ruling Lord. After his wife, Dyanna Tyrell, was kidnapped, he would help begin the Second Schism of Westeros and declare The Reach independent from the iron throne, making him King of Highgarden and The Reach”

UNOFFICIAL TITLE: The King of Thorns, formally the Lord of Thorn                                   -- “By the time he reached his twentieth name day, Emeric was an anointed knight and a ruthless killer, known by the title Lord of Thorns, as he had grown into a cold and easily irritated young man. The title was only further bolstered after he helped end the uprising of a small vasal house on the borders of the Westerlands, where it is said he was short with his men and curel with his father’s enemies, nothing like the roses who came before him.”

DATE OF BIRTH: 3rd April, 475 AC                                                                                  -- “Male, dark brown of hair, left eye of blue, right eye of blue and brown. Born on the third day of the fourth month, year 475AC in Highgarden, seat of House Tyrell of The Reach during the reign of King Maegor II Targaryen.”

STAR SIGN: Aries

BIRTH ORDER: Firstborn of three siblings, firstborn son

LEGITIMACY: Trueborn, legitimate son

FATHER’S NAME: Lord Rylic Tyrell †

MOTHER’S NAME: Lady Esnley Tyrell née Crane †

SIBLING/S NAME/’S: Lord Cedric Tyrell, prince and heir to Highgarden and The Reach and Lady Helena Serrett née Tyrell, wife of Myles Serrett and future Ruling Lady of Silverhill

[emerictyrell]

𝕀𝔽 𝕋ℍ𝔼𝕐 ℍ𝔸𝔻 𝔸 𝕂𝕀𝔻 𝕄𝔼𝕄𝔼 -- 𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕔 & 𝕔𝕒𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕒

Name: Princess Rhaenyra Tyrell -- daughter of King Emeric Tyrell and Queen Caerella Tyrell (nee Targaryen.) -- named for her mother’s cousin, Queen Rhaena Lannister, and Rhaenyra Targaryen, who was nearly became the first queen of Westeros to rule without a husband. Rhaenyra was named in traditional Targaryen fashion by her mother -- wishing both her houses be represented. 

Gender: Female 

General Appearance: Brown hair, lavender eyes, fair-skinned -- Rhaenyra has her father’s dark wavy hair, though when in sunlight, strands of silver-gold can be seen. Born with violet Targaryen eyes, they lightened to a pale lavender as she grew older. Rhaenyra’s skin is fair like her mothers, but it never appears to burn, nor tan in the sunlight, though she has the same freckles her father had when he was young. 

Personality: The young Tyrell princess is the farthest from lady-like as a princess can be, though secretly loves the fine dresses her mother has made for her. She is stubborn like both her mother and father, and it as manifested in a rebelliousness that neither are sure of what to do with. She is sarcastic, loud, is quick to make her opinions known, and has her father’s temper. She is is known not to back down even when she knows she is wrong, but is also incredibly passionate and severely devoted to her family, as well as incredibly charming like her mother (but only when she wants to be.)

Special Talents: Rhaenyra, keeping true to her un-lady-like nature, has better luck with swords and armor than she does dancing or singing. She dual wields two blades like her father, and is incredibly skilled on horseback. 

Who they like better: Caerella. Despite that she struggles to relate to her mother, Caerella always tells her to stay true to herself, encouraging her to strive for her goals and dreams (but maybe dreams that involve less sword fighting.) She and her father often clash due to their tempers (he does not approve of anything that could cause her harm) but she loves him as much as her mother.

Who they take after more: Emeric. While Rhaenyra and her mother have similar opinions on how one should reach their goals and Caerella’s charming humor is evident in the Tyrell princess, it is clear she picked her fighting skills up from her father. She sighs in the same way he does, and when she is angry, her eyes go steely like her father’s. 

Personal Head Canon: 

1) Rhaenyra was born of an arranged marriage. Caerella’s union to Emeric was planned during the Dornish Peace Summit, an arrangement made without Caerella’s knowing. Caerella was furious, but the wedding commenced four months later.  Emeric, guilty for taking Caerella’s chance at love and still mourning his first wife, did not pressure her to consummate the marriage. The couple fought constantly for the first several months. Despite this, Caerella and Emeric proved to be a good match and they quickly fell in love with one another. Rhaenyra was born just after their first anniversary. 

2) It took three days before they settled on their daughter’s name, as Emeric was completely against naming her in tribute to Rhaena. Caerella claimed that it was her revenge for making her marry him, and Emeric though initially disagreed and desired a name more suited to The Reach, eventually conceded to the stubbornness of his wife, after she bluntly accused him of not liking it because of his opinions of her namesake. Emeric agreed only to try to prove her differently. 

3) Rhaenyra has been caught multiple times sneaking out and participating in tournaments disguised as a boy. 

ft. @drragonbcrn

[cedrictyrell-deactivated2021012]

htyrell‌:

@cedrictyrell​ @emerictyrell​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

next: @emerictyrell​

[adelaynehill]

Emeric and his brother had been sitting in somewhat of silence, save for the occasional sarcastic comment from Cedric or a brief discussion about their plans for the summit. Papers and scrolls swarmed Emeric’s normally orderly desk, and the smell of drying ink was fresh on the air. The Thorn King’s arm was free of it’s sling, now, though there was still pain that would spike through to his shoulder. That was his own fault, he supposed – the way he would sometimes hold it close to his chest or side as the limb ached and moaned with certain movements. The maester had informed him that the healing would take less than a moon, but that he would still need to be careful with it. But, much to Kharron’s displeasure, Emeric had taken to training with the arm once more, heaving his two swords more often than what was arguably healthy. It was the only way he knew to release his frustrations – the only way that time seemed to pass more quickly, when sleep was still rare. 

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

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

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

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

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

@htyrell​

[sigils0ngs]

    ( for @emerictyrell​ )

    ATTENDED upon by a handmaiden from seagard, neridia slowly walked around the upper market square.  the silk merchants peddled their wears, various stalls dedicated to trinkets and finely made adornments for anyone with coin to spend.   she paused to inspect a stall that was overflowing with various flowers,  “these would certainly brighten both anna’s and my own rooms, don’t you think?”  neri said to her handmaiden, before deciding to approach, waiting to the side of another patron currently bartering.   leaning to inhale the sweet scent of one of the blooming roses, she accidentally breathed too deeply and brought about a slight murmur of pain from her lips, a soft ah! under her breath — 

[emerictyrell]

It was within the week of Emeric’s return to Sunspear -- though his arm had begun healing and he no longer needed his sling, the arrival of his sister had left him as concerned and distracted as ever. The circumstances made him uneasy. Relations with the Lannisters and their vassals were already so tense. How did he properly deal with this, in addition to the looming shadow of the peace summit and a new threat that no one understood? His shoulders, though they remained in perfect posture, felt more wighted upon than ever. Maester Kharron had told the Thorn King that he needed fresh air -- being stuffed inside his study would do nothing for his health. If he meant his physical health, or his mental health, he wasn’t sure. But rather than have the aging man breathing down his neck, Emeric had taken to the market that morning, though was arguably already regretting his decision as the Dornish sun beat down on him from above. Even in his silks, he could still feel sweat forming in the back of his neck as the smell of roses distracted him from his walk. His guard following suit, but he was only able to glance upon the full blooms before the smallest of sounds distracted him as the smell of the roses had. 

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

[inbox-bait]

herb asks 🌿

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

basil — have you ever fallen out of love?

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

chamomile — what’s something that always comforts you?

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

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

lemon balm — are you more sympathetic or empathetic?

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

mint — are you a virgin?

rose — have you ever been in love?

sage — what’s your highest level of education?

thyme — have you ever done something brave?

vervain — do you believe in luck?

yarrow — have you healed from past traumas?

[emerictyrell]

+ @adelaynehill

[rp-meme-glaceon]

Send “📂“ for a random yet completely useless headcanon I have

[emerictyrell]

+ @adelaynehill

[thegardenof-eden-deactivated201]

If they had a kid meme

[roseindarkness-archive-blog]

send me a pair name and I’ll tell you what I think it would be like if they had a child.

Name:

Gender:

General Appearance:

Personality:

Special Talents:

Who they like better:

Who they take after more:

Personal Head canon:

Face Claim:

[emerictyrell]

+ @adelaynehill

[emerictyrell]

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝚂𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂 -- 𝙳𝚈𝙰𝙽𝙽𝙰 𝚃𝚈𝚁𝙴𝙻𝙻

Dyanna Warrick was the daughter of Ruling Lord Tevion Warrick and Ruling Lady Rosyn Warrick (née Cassel.) Rosyn’s pregnancy was a mild one, as was the birth of her only child, which took place at the end of 481 A.C during the North’s first snow fall of the season. Dyanna was an easy going child and grew into an exemplary young lady -- mild in temper and strong in opinion, though quick to know when and where it was needed. Dyanna was an accomplished lady, eloquent in reading, music, singing, and while she did not have a particular affinity with drawing, Dyanna was known to be a very skilled dancer. 

As House Warrick was a small yet wealthy house, Lord Tevion sought an advantageous match for his daughter. Eventually, he arranged a match with Lord Emeric Tyrell, who was the son of the newly established Ruling Lord Rylic Tyrell, as house Warrick’s wealth would prove helpful in continuing the growth of the Tyrell’s army. The pair were married in 503 A.C, shortly before Emeric would become Ruling Lord of The Reach after the sudden death of his father and mother. Dyanna, due to her northern roots, would become known as The Winter’s Rose after becoming Ruling Lady.

Dyanna and Emeric’s marriage began as simply political union. Emeric remained cold toward Dyanna for the majority of their marriage. They would share only a few nights with one another in the three years of their marriage, and while would show occasional affection at public events, it was commonly known in The Reach that the Ruling Lord and Lady did not love one another, though Dyanna quickly became a favorite of the Tyrell family and of The Reach. But, this would begin to change after their arrival in King’s Landing. Emeric would eventually tell Dyanna that being away from Highgarden and the ghost of his father made him realize that she had become his home. The following weeks would result in love quickly forming between the two -- though it would go unsaid -- as well as the conscious effort to have a child.

Sometime into their stay in King’s Landing, Dyanna was one of several nobles kidnapped in the Barrowton Revolt. During an attempt to free herself from her captors, Dyanna was injured. Despite being rescued, it was not in time to heal the wound of infection. Emeric would formally tell her of his love for her on her death bed in hopes it would give her the will to fight for her life, but Dyanna would succumb to her infection and die three days later in the year 505 A.C. After her death, it would be discovered by House Tyrell’s maester, Maester Kharron, that Dyanna was pregnant with a son. The death of Dyanna Tyrell née Warrick and her unborn child would prompt Emeric to declare The Reach independent from the Iron Throne.

Though dead before the region was declared a sovereign nation, her people honor her by referring to her as Dyanna Tyrell, Queen of Highgarden and The Reach.

[ienchanted]

The 2019 Met Gala || Gemma Chan

[alice-isnt-here-right-now]

[itscolossal]

A Smoldering Bouquet of Roses Photographed by Ars Thanea

[emerictyrell]

( ♛ truth serum ) : Lemme slide into your ravens big buff dude with big buff pecks. You down?

{ooc: brooke go to bed @drragonbcrn}

[emerictyrell]

{ooc: nvm it was hannah @cassanaxmor}

[emerictyrell]

( ♛ truth serum ) : Lemme slide into your ravens big buff dude with big buff pecks. You down?

{ooc: brooke go to bed @drragonbcrn}

[emerictyrell]

( ♛ truth serum ) : Do you believe it was wise to antagonize the Arryns the way you did?

“I, unfortunately, do not consider myself wise if I have had so much as a single drop of wine. I let my resolve slip. But, I do not think that my words or actions will have any effect on the potential relationship The Reach might have with The Vale. My business is with their king, not their princess who thought it smart to speak of Dyanna to me, or is lady-in-waiting to a queen who is not her own.”