Garlan Tyrell

Garlan Tyrell, CEO.

[ren-baratheon]

Guns of Brixton | Garlan, Margaery & Renly | September 8th

[ren-baratheon]

Renly’s smile brightened a little when Margaery mentioned flirting her way into the Night Watch’s good graces.  It was after all, an organization full of men amped up on testosterone, and she was a beautiful young woman.  He’d seen Margaery’s charms in action.  They didn’t stand a chance.  Still, as much as it made him feel better, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes playfully.  

“Okay…so Margaery is going to flirt her way in.  Garlan, you can get in with his friend’s help.  That’s good.  As long as we have the chance to keep an eye on Loras, remind him that he isn’t in this alone, I think he will be okay.  Stark said I’m not allowed to visit…but, I’ll give it a shot after you guys have been over and had the chance to gauge the situation.  Hopefully we won’t have to worry about much longer than that…we’ll have him out before he really has the chance to do himself any harm.”  Garlan’s comment about ‘it being up to Loras to eat’ had weight.  Loras’ eating habits had always fluctuated with his stress level, and judging by the weight he’d lost in the last few weeks, this stint in jail would only make things worse.

"I already put in a call to an old professor that is now on the Supreme Court.  He said that according to the official documents that declared martial law, the court systems are functioning as usual, so we can go after the Nights Watch in court.  Technically, Stark did go through the correct channels in arresting him because of the assault charge.  But since that is a false accusation, we just have to provide Loras’ alibi.  Once I’m able to get ahold of the official charge record, I’ll pass it on to your family attorney.  In theory none of this should be difficult.  But, considering the Watch has been completely fine with circumventing the law so far…I’m sure they’ll throw a few kinks our way soon enough.”  He sighed, sitting back in his chair as he stopped flicking through his law books for once.

“I’ve got a list of people I’ll call for help on the legal side of things now.  Like I said…you should get in contact with a TMC lawyer…I’m sure you’ve got plenty on retainer, that can head to see Loras as soon as possible.” He took a deep breath before continuing, dreading to even hear the words, “And if all else fails, I’ll go to my brother.”  He’d rather walk through London naked then ever see his brother again, but there was literally nothing he wouldn’t do to see Loras again.

[margy-tyrell]

Margaery was relieved to see Renly roll his eyes at her, an old gesture from a kinder time.  Garlan seems less grumpy, a little more willing to play. Walking around towards where her older brother was sat she ran her fingers through his hair, bending down to press a kiss to the crown of his head. As much as they might fight like cat and dog he was still her brother and she still adored him. Now more than ever they needed to stick together. “We still need you too, Garlan.” She whispered for his ears only. Leaning back against the wall she cradled her mug in between both hands staring down into her tea as though it could provide the answer. “Garlans friend can keep us informed until we get to see him ourselves.” Until Margaery saw her brother, unharmed for herself she could not, and would not rest. “I can get in touch with the family brief.” She nodded towards Renly, “Are you OK to contact the company lawyer?” Margaery asked Garlan. “Two heads are better than one.” Biting down on her lip she looked across at the top of Renlys head, “How long until you go to Stannis?” She asked quietly.

[gtyrell-blog]

Garlan was half-listening, already plotting his own little plan in his head, getting Satin was his main point, getting Satin and getting those files. He couldn't, unlike Margaery, use his genitals to get his way with any of them, Satin being his best friend, naturally, would hit him and tell him to put it away. He assumed it had happened once already.  He gave a lazy smile, ignoring the kiss placed to the top of his head, and he grabbed his mug, still wishing it was the wine.

Just because Renly hadn't been able to control himself did not mean that Garlan couldn't enjoy a drink.

'Mm. Yes. Fine. There's a hell of a lot more than one at TMC, you know, all as good as each other, but I'll send them all your way, Renly, I'm sure you know how to deal with the smarmy arseholes better than I do.'

That could have been a slight and it could have been a compliment, there was no sarcasm in his voice and yet there was still some bitterness in his face from being yelled at in his own home. He did not take too kindly to it, still. The tea was calming, he had to admit, but it was dragging him down into sobriety.

'I'm going to the jail later on. If you want me to take anything you ought to leave it here.'

[oldtownboy-blog]

✆ → GARLAN TYRELL (8 Sept 2012)

[oldtownboy-blog]

“All right, I’ll see what I can find out.”

“And yeah, come when I get off. See what’s happened by then.”

[He glances at his watch, noting how long he’s been absent.]

“Right, gotta run. I’ll see you in a few hours, mate.”

[gtyrell-blog]

Garlan smiled down the phone and gave a relieved little puff of air, his body slouching against the couch, only a few things had been scribbled down but he hoped that Satin may be able to gather more information,

'I'll see you soon. Don't get into trouble, and don't let the big boys tease you.'

With that, he hung up, letting himself fall, face-first, into the cushions. Renly and Margaery would be here, soon.

[oldtownboy-blog]

✆ → GARLAN TYRELL (8 Sept 2012)

[oldtownboy-blog]

[He knows Garlan is lying, but he doesn’t push it. The situation is a shitty one, and it’s not like he can fix it right now anyways.

His stomach drops a little at Garlan’s request]

“You know I can’t do that. I don’t even have access to the file.” 

[he sighs, anxious and wanting to help, but feeling rather useless.]

“I’ll see what I can find out and let you know ASAP, okay?”

[He hopes Garlan knows, that Garlan believes Satin when he says he’s going to do everything within his meager power to help a friend.]

[gtyrell-blog]

He smiled slightly and gave a short nod, not that Satin could see it.

'Try to find out when it was supposed to have happened, that's all I need. Anything else is just bonus.'

He wanted to give the man a hug, tell him that his help, anything, was appreciated, but he wasn't there. Maybe later.

'I'll come down later tonight. You'll let me in, won't you?'

[gtyrell-blog]

School Reunion || Garlan & Lester || August 19th 2012

[gtyrell-blog]

Garlan gave him a small smile and let the man hold onto his arm, he would have let Lester do whatever he pleased at that moment, he was certain, he did know what it was like, it was not the same but it was close enough, different circumstances bred different outcomes. He frowned a little and led his friend along, arm tightening about his shoulders and chin resting on his head for a moment,

‘We can drink, and I can talk, you don’t have to say anything.’

He gave his shoulder a squeeze and led the man into the nearest pub. It was quiet, thanks to the day and the time, and would allow them to speak freely and privately. His arm unwound from Lester’s shoulders but he kept a firm grip on his forearm, making the man turn to face him,

‘Go and sit down, I’ll bring you a drink.’

[lester-morrigen]

Garlan guides him and Lester is thankful—so thankful—that he does not have to stand on his own.  Not so much metaphorically, but physically, he is not certain that he can physically stand on his own at the moment and he feels like his knees should knock together because he just feels so weak.  He has never felt the physically exhaustion that came from emotional pain until Guyard’s death, nothing close, but he feels it now.  He remembers someone said that pain makes a person feel alive but he does not feel anything close.  He feels like he is dying and already dead.

“I might talk,” he offers.  Garlan should get something from this meeting too.  He does not only want to take.  Lester might be poor company, at least the way he is now, but he is still company and if Garlan offers him his, then Lester must offer his company back.  But then, this was the offer that Garlan gave, company and freedom from his thoughts and worries.  Lester will simply have to repay him in some other way, at some later date.  ”But then, I might not.  Perhaps I will only listen to you.”

Lester does not drink much, but Garlan comes back with liquor of some kind and hands him a glass and Lester, despite himself, drains it.  He thinks he must be becoming some other person, because this is not him.  He went out for tea, just came back from Church.  He is not the type to drown his sorrows but that is what he is doing.  But then, that is what he was offered.  ”Thank you,” he says.  ”Now,” he leans toward Garlan, “what did you want to talk about?”

[gtyrell-blog]

Garlan didn't care much for Lester's quick downing of the drink, after all, it was his body and his headache, but he smiled, sipping at his own, letting it down on the table rather than finish it in one go, he planned to be out for some time, perhaps he'd find Satin and take comfort in his friend's presence later that night. 

'There is nothing in particular I want to talk about, you know, I don't mind, anything at al, though I think we can happily stay away from talking about work, you and I, I'm sure, have both been absolutely swamped.'

He hummed a bit and looked up at him, swirling the alcohol in the glass,

'Have you been on holiday recently?'

[lester-morrigen]

I say it now and you can’t hear me (Lester Morrigen, Garlan Tyrell, and Davos Seaworth; August 29th)

[handwithoutfingers]

Davos had been letting his work pile up over the last few days. It was a stupid thing to do, but there was this one piece he wanted to do perfectly. It was important, and he didn’t want to let anything slip, so he’d been neglecting the rest to make sure that it was as good as it could be. If he missed just something, just one detail, then the whole thing would be a waste of time because he’d just have to redo it.

And now he was trying to get through the rest of his work he’d let pile up, after finally finishing off that one bit that had nagged at him day in, day out since last Friday. There was just too much of it though, and the only person he trusted enough to help him get these other important things done, was Lester. So, as much as he hated to do it (he knew how hard the guy was worked, he knew that he had almost as much as Davos did and that the only reason Davos had so much was that he’d been obsessing over that one thing) he’d decided to ask Lester to lend him a hand with some of it.

Sighing, he pushed himself up and out of his chair. He picked up the pile of papers (if he was going to fob some of it off on Lester, the least he could do was let the guy pick what he’d rather do) and made his way out of his office and down the hall to Lester’s. Davos just hoped the guy had a little less work than usual, even though he knew there was no way he wouldn’t.

He hesitated just outside the door for a moment, wondering if this was really the right thing to do: it wasn’t fair. But life wasn’t fair and nor was work, so Davos pushed it open. He had expected to see Lester at his desk, but he hadn’t expected to see him looking up at a man who looked a lot like the CEO of TMC. What the man was doing there, he didn’t know. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the man, letting the door shut behind him.

Deciding to ignore him for now (he’d ask what he was doing here once he and Lester had discussed the work) he turned to Lester with a grimace. “I have work for you to do,” he said, tone apologetic.

[lester-morrigen]

Lester must admit that he is surprised that Garlan is here.  Surprised, but not displeased, and he leans back in his chair, thoughtfully.  He can only think this is because of their last conversation and, while he would not like to replay the sad contents of that meeting, that does not mean that he does not wish to speak with Garlan.  They are friends, in a way, even if they do not completely know each other, but Lester wonders why he sought him out at his office.  Probably, a small voice in the back of his head tells him, because you are never anywhere else.

“I’m feeling fine.”  So this is about their last meeting.  Lester does not wish to dwell on that, though, and he wants to leave the statement at that, but he feels Garlan deserves more explanation.  ”Far better then I was last time we met up.”  He gives Garlan a weak smile.  ”Thank you for coming to see me.  And how are you?  You know, I had just been wondering, what—”

But his thought is cut off from the door opening and Lester can’t help but wonder about all the visitors today.  His office is not such a popular spot in the building and he does not think he has ever had two people who have come in at the same time.  Davos peeks his head in the door.

“Hullo Davos.”  Lester smiles when the man tells him he has more work.  ”Ah, what else is new.  Should it be done now or should I put it in the pile?  If it’s urgent, I can get it done soon.”  He sees Davos eyeing Garlan with a slightly suspicious look and he figures that it is his job to do the introductions in this scenario.  ”Oh, um, Davos, Garlan.”  He points from the older man to Garlan.  ”Garlan, Davos.”  He doesn’t know exactly where to go from there, so he just smiles at both of the men and shuts his mouth.

[gtyrell-blog]

'That is good to hear, I had worried you'd go home not feeling very well, but I'm glad you're better than before. You know where I am if you ever need somebody to drink with.'

Garlan basked in the fact that he was sociable, sociable enough to make friends outside of the company and outside of the family's approved list, he was old enough to make his own decisions and if that meant getting cosy with a member of the Night's Watch and being buddy-buddy with the Minister of Defense then so be it. He watched Davos enter and caught the suspicious look, but he repaid it with a smile.

The man stood as they were introduced and he held out his hand to the man,

'Any friend of Lester. It's a pleasure to meet you Davos.'

[lester-morrigen]

I say it now and you can’t hear me (Lester Morrigen, Garlan Tyrell, and Davos Seaworth; August 29th)

Lester prefers romance to drama; comedy to tragedy.  Not because he fears sadness or tension, though he would rather avoid both, but because he cannot escape the fact that no story ends at the ending.  Life goes on and that is much more difficult a realization when it comes at the end of a horror story or a tragedy.  These people, these characters he has gotten attached to have to continue to live past the time their story ends. 

They have to live because life goes on and Lester is realizing his life is turning out like that.  Not a tragedy—he is not so deluded to think that he has it much worse then anyone else—but he has to continue on without progress or success.  His life continues to move even when the story is not on him so he has no chance of any sort of progression or success.  Why should he have any success?  The people he is tracking have miles more time, people, and luck.  He does not have any power.  He needs power, he needs authority if he is to continue, if he is to have any bit of hope, but he has no money, no name, and a meaningless position.  He can make his people work themselves to the bone, but what use is it?

But he will continue.  There is nothing else to do.  Why should he do anything else?  He folds the paper he is working on and leans back in his swivel chair, groaning.  When did he grow so pessimistic?  When did his faith start to waver?  No, though.  It is not his faith that wavers.  He never had much faith in himself.

The door creeks open and Lester sits straight immediately, placing a smile on his face and looking foreword.  His eyebrows shoot up when he sees who is at the door, but only due to the strangeness of the situation.  Why should he be here?  Still, he is glad to see him.  “Garlan!  Always a pleasure.  What brings you to the Ministry of Defense?”

[gtyrell-blog]

He'd been meaning to visit for some time but hadn't quite gotten around to it, he'd been up to his eyeballs in trying his best, and on his own, to readjust to the notion of being back with, well, with civilians, from being free to go where he pleased and do as he pleased and now everything was different, he was rooted here. At least he was making new friends, he'd found a friend in Lester Morrigen and he could only hope that the other thought the same for him. Lester understood what awful things would run through his mind because he had them, too.

'Nothing in particular, I just thought I'd come and visit, they've become far more lenient about who they let through those doors, you know, despite this martial law.'

Garlan chuckled, moving to sit himself opposite the other man. He was tired and wanted, more than anything, to get away again, maybe to Spain, France, Portugal, anywhere.

'How are you feeling?'

[gtyrell-blog]

School Reunion || Garlan & Lester || August 19th 2012

[lester-morrigen]

Garlan pays and Lester feels like he should have some sort of hand in the payment, after all it was half his drinks, but he does not think Garlan would accept money.  Oh well.  He will have to pay him back later.  Not take no for an answer when Garlan resists.  But for now, he lets his friend pay and lets him take his arm.

He hardly notices Garlan bringing him out of the restaurant, though he does notice the hand on his arm.  It is more comfort then he has had in weeks.  Just to have someone want to help him.  He knows that is his own fault, always smiling.  But it is so much easier to smile.  So much better to make others feel good.  So much better then this, so much more of what he wants then pity.  He thinks pathetic, and can’t help to wonder what Garlan would say if he knew just how pathetic Lester was.  How little he cared for his brother, how little he cared for his life.

Not that this matters.  Not that he matters.  He has a lot more work to do before anything like that happens.  He has to catch the Brotherhood.  He does not have time for days off and does not have time for drinking.

But he is still going for a drink.  Even he can be weak sometimes.  ”Talk?”  That seems a bit to much, though.  ”Maybe talk.  Mostly drink.”  He grips Garlan tighter, grasping the hand on his arm.  ”I suppose you…do know what this is.  You know.”  Lester’s eyes are toward the sky.  ”Let’s go drink.  Seems.  Seems like such a good idea.”

[gtyrell-blog]

Garlan gave him a small smile and let the man hold onto his arm, he would have let Lester do whatever he pleased at that moment, he was certain, he did know what it was like, it was not the same but it was close enough, different circumstances bred different outcomes. He frowned a little and led his friend along, arm tightening about his shoulders and chin resting on his head for a moment,

'We can drink, and I can talk, you don't have to say anything.'

He gave his shoulder a squeeze and led the man into the nearest pub. It was quiet, thanks to the day and the time, and would allow them to speak freely and privately. His arm unwound from Lester's shoulders but he kept a firm grip on his forearm, making the man turn to face him,

'Go and sit down, I'll bring you a drink.'

[ren-baratheon]

Guns of Brixton | Garlan, Margaery & Renly | September 8th

[ren-baratheon]

Thank god for Margaery, Renly thought for what wasn’t the first, and wouldn’t be the last time.  He hadn’t wanted to start something with Garlan, but with his tensions already running high thanks to the confrontation with Jon Stark, he really couldn’t avoid calling him out.  Fury ran in his family, or so they liked to say.

He nodded in Garlan’s direction as he suggested they stay calm.  Though the stern look on his face didn’t soften until Margaery returned with tea.  Garlan’s comment about ‘emotions’ was not lost on him.  Renly did not appreciate being told what he should and should not be feeling.  If he wanted to freak out and run through the streets shouting for Loras’ return, he damned well would do that.  All of his life people had been telling him he wasn’t feeling the right emotions.  His brothers told him to stop being so dramatic.  At his all boys prep school, the ideals of a “tough” man had been drilled into him.  Law school had practically been a seminar in how to remain distant to a client’s situation.  And then there had been that year spent telling himself he couldn’t feel what he was feeling toward Loras.  He had hated it.  Every single situation.  He hadn’t found true happiness until he had just learned to give in to his emotions.  He spoke up in Parliament about helping the people he wanted, he hadn’t been afraid to admit his feelings, and most of all, he told Loras he was madly, irrevocably in love with him.

It was that love that made it impossible for him to remain rational and calm now, as Garlan insisted.  But despite knowing that the apology was hardly sincere, and knowing that the issues with Garlan weren’t even close to being resolved (or understood), he gave him a small smile and listened intently as he shared what little information he’d gathered.

He took a seat as he contemplated what all of this meant.  ”The Nights Watch have always remained politically neutral.  If this means Stannis has taken control, his dismantling of UK law runs deeper than we first anticipated.  We might have more hoops to jump through with this.”  He opened his lap top and began googling “political prisoner”.

“The most likely situation is that he will be released shortly, in which case, proving this is a false accusation won’t be difficult in court.  But there is always the chance that it will become much worse and he’ll be held as an example to all other possible dissidents.  Which is what we need to start preparing for.  If it comes to that we need to start driving a grass roots campaign to make his situation as visible as possible.  We need to make him into a cult hero that the government can’t possibly do away with…the kind that could start a revolution.  Obviously, with TMC, we’ve got the means to make that happen.  But only if it comes to that.  The next two days are crucial…they prove they won’t work with us privately in that time frame, we start making some noise publicly.”  He looked across at both Margaery and Garlan, as he began to prepare his tea.  ”You agree?”  Going over it in his mind made him feel a little better, a little more organized.  It hurt to think of Loras alone in a cell, but it eased that pain a little to know he had ways of getting him out.   

[margy-tyrell]

Margaery smiled as Renlys features softened once again, not into the easy smile she was used to but a much more strained look. She had seen many of Renlys facades but lawyer Renly was new to her. He was like a sea of calm, all professional and focused when Margaery had expected him to be a little more manic. Loras would certainly be reactive if the shoe was on the other foot, and not proactive but Renly was a different kettle of fish. Sometimes it was hard to remember that. Preparing a cup of tea for Garlan she listened intently as he outlined the details and didn’t attempt to hide the frown on her face. There was no need, she was amongst family now. She couldn’t put a mask up every hour of every day; anyone who had to do that would go mad. Forget themselves and that was something Margaery had sworn to herself she would never do, a promise she had kept to herself. She was just very selective about who saw the real Margaery. Stirring the tea in the mug she passed it over to her brother and stood looking down at Renly as he prepared his own tea. “For now we need to work behind the scenes. I can try and get in touch with Melisandre again?” Chewing on her lip she looked across at Garlan, “Could your contact get you inside? To see Loras?” She immediately thought of her own contact, certain he could help her in to see her brother. “There is someone I can speak to.” She said looking between the two men, “Smile and flutter my eyelashes a little.” Smiling slightly over at Renly she hoped to relax him a little more. The obvious thing to do was get word of how Loras was doing, or even better see for themselves.

[gtyrell-blog]

Garlan could almost hear their thoughts, nattering on in their heads about him, probably, but he ignored, ignored the sneaking voices and the whispers in his head, taking the tea silently and sipping. The scowls were saved for him, he supposed as he watched his sister smiling over at Renly. Renly Baratheon. Renly Tyrell. He frowned to himself. Loras loved this man but Garlan could not see why, he didn't know him, he just didn't know him, he was a stranger that was bowling into his life--though, really, Renly had settled himself in and it was Garlan returning with guns blazing, but he wasn't thinking of that--and taken his brother and sister away from him.

'My "contact".'

He scoffed a little bit and grabbed a biscuit, almost crushing the poor thing in his hand, and he pulled it apart with his fingers, wanting something to fiddle with more than something to eat.

'It's easy enough for me to get in there. I've already told him to keep Loras fed, but at the end of the day it will be down to how he acts, too. I can see him, I can get him food, cigarettes, but it's down to him to eat.'

Garlan doubted that he would, Loras would no doubt be too wrapped up in being a pain in the backside and making it harder for them. He'd probably end up assaulting somebody while he was in there.

The man sighed and wiped his hands on the couch, leaning his head back, not knowing much else of what to say,

'I don't know anything about this legal system, so it's down to you.'

[gtyrell-blog]

School Reunion || Garlan & Lester || August 19th 2012

[lester-morrigen]

Garlan tells him that he knows, he knows what it is like to lose someone like that and Lester’s eyes shoot up.  Of course he knows.  He was a soldier.  He might not have lost a brother, not a brother he grew up and loved all his life, but he lost people maybe just as important, friends, people he loved.  He must have seen them die in front of his eyes and Lester would find that unbearable.  Guyard was enough.  Loosing anyone else, with no one to blame, would be far to much.

Garlan touches his arm and Lester puts his hand on his, briefly.  It might be a little awkward, and he has no idea what Garlan thinks, but he had to just touch someone.  Touch their hand.  It was necessary connection.  Then his hand drops back to his cup and, a second later, Garlan’s returns to his side.

He realizes that he stopped crying but the unbearable weight pushing on him remains.  Garlan’s voice comes from far away and he suggests going somewhere private, with something other then tea and Lester looks up, startled.  Lester has never resorted to drinking.  To afraid he would jump off a building.  But, with someone else, someone he trusts (and he does trust Garlan, what a strange thought) perhaps it would not be such a bad reaction.)  ”Yes.”  He stands, slowly.  ”Yes, that sounds like a good idea.”

[gtyrell-blog]

Garlan gave him a soft smile and let his arm circle Lester's shoulders. They had something in common now, something they did not have all those years ago--and even though Garlan had not been Guyard's biggest fan, he felt his loss, he felt his loss through Lester's sadness. He did not get on with his own siblings as well as he would like--though he put that down to himself rather than them, but he would feel their absences.

He gave a small nod of thanks to the ladies and gents as they worked and he escorted his friend out into the warm, London air. He half wondered if he'd looked quite as heartbroken when he'd broken the news of deaths back on tour, or if he'd blocked it out after the first time.

'We'll have a drink, I think it might do you well to talk to somebody,'

He paused a little, licking his lips as he guided the man away from the cafe,

'Somebody that knows what you mean.'

It wouldn't do him any harm, that was for sure, and it wouldn't do Garlan any either.

[gtyrell-blog]

School Reunion || Garlan & Lester || August 19th 2012

[lester-morrigen]

And suddenly his veins are ice.  He takes an uncertain breath and stares down at his hands.  What happened to your brother?  What happened to your brother, Lester?  Why didn’t you protect your brother?  He looks down at his tea and wishes it was a lake.  He wishes it was a lake he could drown himself in, or at the very least jump into and wash away his sins.

“You ask—such ambiguous questions.”  And he’s certain his voice is shaking.  “Like about my boss.  How am I supposed to answer that?  I have two brothers.”  He can feel a burn past his temple, but he keeps his hands firmly in his lap.  If I only talk about Rich, I’ll be fine.  “Richard is…up and down.  As we all seem to be.  Working two jobs, one he loves and one he hates.  Still writing music.  Still in a band.  Broke up with his boyfriend a few months ago and suddenly became even more anti-social.  He and Walda get along really well.  He and I have been eating dinner together ever since—”

He can feel the burn in his eyes, feel the sting, and that’s wrong because water shouldn’t hurt so much.  “Guyard’s dead.  In the Stadium.  Or, after the Stadium, I suppose.  It took him days.”  He gives another shaky breath.  He can feel someone’s eyes on him and he knows they much be staring.  He can feel eyes on the back of his head.  “That’s why—you see that’s why I have to…”  He considers for a moment.  “You never liked Guy at all.  I remember that.  And I could see why.  He could be a total prat.  That was what I called him, all the time.  He would be so irritating and I would just loose it with him.”  He gives a laugh that he’s certain sounds slightly insane. 

“I’m sorry.”  He says softly.  “You didn’t ask for any of this.  You just wanted tea.”

[gtyrell-blog]

Garlan reached across the table, hesitantly at first, and then with more confidence, giving the man's arm a firm squeeze of reassurance, something to tell him that he was there for him, if needs be. It was strange, though, to sit opposite a man he had not seen in what could have been a decade already but to connect still, he knew what it was like, to shut out those memories, to blame himself for things that were out of his control, and he wanted to say something, to use his words to communicate that, but he couldn't, he just couldn't do it. He was trained to be strong, to fight, to kill, to keep those emotions locked away, shoved down deep inside himself and hidden from the world, and it was how he worked best. It was no emotion or extremes.

'Don't worry. I know it can be hard to lose somebody close to you.'

He let his hand drop then and pushed his chair back, moving to the man's side, and with a hand on his arm he lifted him up from his seat,

'I think we should have something a little stronger than tea, a little more private.'

[ren-baratheon]

Guns of Brixton | Garlan, Margaery & Renly | September 8th

[ren-baratheon]

Taking as much strength as he could from Margaery’s words, Renly continued to grasp her hand as they went to the door.  Garlan was already waiting on the stoop.  He kept his eyes from meeting his, still angry with him over his flippant response to the news that Loras was imprisoned.  How he could possibly think his brother’s arrest was not a thing of urgency was beyond him.  It wasn’t like he’d been picked up for an illegal u-turn or something…he was falsely imprisoned during a period of martial law.  He had angered a government that had already proven itself to be trigger happy with the “treason” label.  This was fucking serious, and if Garlan didn’t understand that, Renly didn’t want to be near him.

He was already past him, and busy unloading his law books onto the dining table when he heard him offer him a drink.  He thought nothing of it, assuming he was offering water or tea.  He was a Tyrell after all, and that was well within the domain of a polite host.  But as he turned and noticed the glass of wine in Garlan’s hand for the first time, all emotion dropped from Renly’s face.

Was this some sort of joke?  Garlan knew Renly had only just recovered from his struggles with alcohol.  Even looking at the glass now was incredibly tempting.  His worries for Loras could be instantly eased with just a few sips.  But at what cost?  He’d get back to their empty apartment tonight and what would stop him from drowning his fears and sorrows with a bottle of Jameson?  Next day, still no Loras…a stiff g&t to chase away the hangover…and it would just spiral down from there.  He was stronger than that now, but who was Garlan to mock his past failures? 

“Excuse me?” Renly said loudly.  “Garlan, I don’t know what your problem is with me.  I’ve done nothing more than fall in love with your brother, but apparently you take offense to my presence in his life?  And now, you offer me alcohol, knowing full well the struggles I’ve had with it in the past.”  He averted his eyes, still ashamed that he had let himself go down that road in the first place.  He hated having to admit to his weakness.

His fist wrapped around his cane tightly, trying to keep his anger at bay.  Looking back up at Garlan, he continued, “But you know what, I don’t give a fuck about why you hate me.  This isn’t about me, and this sure as hell isn’t about you.  This is about Loras.  We need to get him out, and if you are done insulting my sobriety, I’d like to start working on that.”  He gestured towards the table, before adding “And I’ll take tea…two sugars.”

[margy-tyrell]

Margaery was renowned for her masterful control over her emotions, whatever was swimming below the surface always stayed there. But it wasn’t every day that Loras was falsely imprisoned, and it wasn’t every day that a member of her family was so discourteous. It wasn’t hard to be a Tyrell, look great, smile and make sure all of your words dripped with easy charm. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head at Garlans words, not missing their true meaning where Renly did at first. Dropping her bag onto the dining room table she marched over to her brother, disguising it as a brisk pace she gave him a tight smile and tugged the glass from his grip. “I think we could all do with a cup of tea.” She said glaring at her brother her back to Renly so as to hide this private moment between the siblings. Renly was a Tyrell now but he didn’t need to see everything that went on in one of Margaerys most difficult relationships. “Perhaps you can help Renly with his things.” She said turning to face her brother in law with a bright smile, hoping to clear the tension in the room. Making her way into the kitchen she sighed heavily once she was on her own. Pulling her own phone out of her pocket she noted no replies from anyone. Not from her Grandmother, or Willas or Pyp. The thought of the infuriating man she’d found herself spending more and more time with was enough to make her stomach clench painfully. Wandering around the kitchen she made a pot of tea, loading a tray with sugar and cups and biscuits. No meeting was complete without biscuits. Carrying the tray back into the dining room she smiled down at the two men as she placed it in the middle of the table, “So what do we know so far?” She asked. That had to be where they started.

[gtyrell-blog]

As Renly ranted on it seemed that Garlan was a million miles away, more than content to sip at and swallow the wine in his hand, he would have been quite happy to throw him out onto his arse on the gravel, maybe even hope another car was coming but, as the silence fell between them, Garlan had to stop and wonder just what he was thinking and why. Rather than question himself he simply pushed the thoughts away, probably still lingering bitterness from being shouted at, from being ignored. 

'You're right, so what say we keep cool heads and not panic or rush into anything that we haven't thought through, and let's not let our emotions get the best of us.'

Perhaps it did seem as if he were a little too calm, but that was, at the end of the day, what a large glass of a good vintage would do to somebody. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, but there was a surge of anger in him, just beneath his skin and more than ready to burst through at Renly, or Margaery, whoever rippled the surface first, and as it was looking it was neck-a-neck. He saw her glare and he ignored it. He didn't want to help Renly with his things, he didn't want to help Margaery in the kitchen, all he wanted to do was go to bed. But, alas, he couldn't be sure of Loras' fate, what they were doing to him in that little room and Renly was right, on one account. 

He hovered in the hallway, feeling awkward in his own house, he could hear the kettle going and he could hear Renly shuffling papers. He did feel bad, slightly, for what he'd said, not that he'd immediately meant it, but what was done was done.

Garlan was back in the room before Margaery, touching at the papers on the table that held no real meaning for him, and he sat himself down. His jaw was clenched, his body tense and he could not bring himself to look at Renly--he couldn't even remember the first time he'd heard the name, or when he and Loras had begun seeing each other, but now Renly had Loras and Renly had Margaery, Margaery had Willas and, well, maybe I ought to buy a dog, he thought.

'I apologise.'

He said to Renly, stiffly, still wishing he had that wine in his hand. 

'I've spoken to one of the Night's Watch. Assault on a civilian. Stannis' name thrown about, not much else to speak of. Working on it, though.'

And that was all that Garlan planned to say, preferring to retreat back into himself and not look at either of them. His mind wandered to other things, to how much easier it was when he was away, how much easier war was compared to this, compared to people and their problems, people and their emotions, him and his own emotions. Try as he might it was still awfully difficult to keep them in check. 

[oldtownboy-blog]

✆ → GARLAN TYRELL (8 Sept 2012)

[oldtownboy-blog]

[That doesn’t do much to vanquish Satin’s frown. He can’t help but wonder if Garlan was insinuating anything or merely joking. Did he really think Satin would arrest him, if that unlikely situation ever arose? He replies with a heavy dose of sarcasm.]

“Oh, please.”

“All I know is that the charge is for assault on a citizen. The name Stannis Baratheon was thrown around, but I dunno…Loras been in any barfights with the Prime Minister lately?”

[He hesitates, noting the sigh he hears crackling over the phone line, and the resignation in his friend’s voice. He hesitates for a moment, worrying.]

“You okay, Garlan?” 

[gtyrell-blog]

Garlan could only hope that Satin wouldn't turn the cuffs on him, but it wasn't Satin that he didn't trust, it was the others, the ones that had hauled his little brother in.

'Not as far as I know.'

He shrugged, a gesture that wouldn't be seen, but he hoped would be translated along the line. 

'I'm fine. Perfectly fucking fine.'

He was lying, of course he was lying.

'Now when was this assault supposed to have happened? Can you send me a copy of the file? Something?'

[oldtownboy-blog]

✆ → GARLAN TYRELL (8 Sept 2012)

[oldtownboy-blog]

[He furrows his brow, surprised that Garlan seems to be taking this so well. Typically he’d return the jest, but he’s too anxious at the moment.]

“I thought you’d be breaking down our door by now….He’ll get food and all—as far as I know, the Watch isn’t in the habit of starving their inmates… 

[Satin rubs at his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.]

“Unless the shit gets stirred up here I’ll be off at the usual time.” 

[gtyrell-blog]

Garlan had had quite a few large gulps of wine and was more than ready to go back to sleep, more than ready to let himself collapse there on the couch and leave Margaery and Renly to talk to each other in the car. Sleep through the entire ordeal, but his hands were shaking, his body was trembling slightly, and he took another large gulp,

'While brawn can help it's not the best thing to do, they'll only have you lock me up, too.'

He sighed down the phone and sat himself up properly, using his hands to grope blindly for a notebook and pen,

'Do you know anything specific? The report? When was he supposed to have done something? Where, to who, all that shit? I need you to tell me all you can, if you can. Please.'

[gtyrell-blog]

TEXT: Willas Tyrell (Sept 8th 2012)

Message: SOS. Marg and Renly coming over to talk about Loras. Probably going to hit him. Need back-up.

[cfo-willas-blog]

Message: I’m on my way.

[gtyrell-blog]

Message: Might have had some wine. I’m going to offer him a drink.

[cfo-willas-blog]

Message: Haha. Let me know how it goes

[gtyrell-blog]

Message: He didn't like it.

[gtyrell-blog]

"i'm going to offer him a drink" YOU ARE THE WORST BROTHER IN LAW EVER.

[gtyrell-blog]

TEXT: Willas Tyrell (Sept 8th 2012)

Message: SOS. Marg and Renly coming over to talk about Loras. Probably going to hit him. Need back-up.

[cfo-willas-blog]

Message: I’m on my way.

[gtyrell-blog]

Message: Might have had some wine. I'm going to offer him a drink.

[ren-baratheon]

Guns of Brixton | Garlan, Margaery & Renly | September 8th

The cab ride to Garlan’s house was eerily quiet, and much too slow for Renly’s liking.  He had stressed to the driver the importance of haste, but his pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears.  He’d have preferred to just sprint the short distance.  It would probably have been quicker, seeing as it was just two miles from Camden to St. John’s Wood, and he could cut through Regent’s Park.  Only it wasn’t quicker, because Renly could not run.  Not even to save Loras.

So instead he sat in the back of a cab with an overactive imagination, picturing all of the horrible things that could be done to his husband.  He had studied law and had concentrated on civil and human rights.  He knew all too well what had been done to political prisoners in other countries during military coups.  Because that was what Loras was…a political prisoner.  The “assault” charge was about as flimsy a story as one could imagine.  Renly had been with Loras every day since the accident.  He’d slept next to him every night.  He knew where Loras was every moment of every day (up until now).  He would have known about an assault.  

Beyond that, the lies had been written across Jon Stark’s face.  Any have decent barrister could take this case down in a matter of minutes, but in order to do that it would have to go to trial.  Renly wasn’t sure what the state of the court system was right now.  Stannis had control of just about everything else?  Who knew when fair trials would resume.  Loras could be locked up for months…years…however long it took for this martial law bullshit to be resolved, if it ever was.  

The lump in his throat grew as the anger returned.  Anger at Jon Stark, Stannis, Melisandre, and mostly himself.  He should have saw this coming.  He should have put his fucking non-existant career second to the safety of his loved ones and made sure Loras wasn’t dragged into this.  

Finally the cab pulled up outside Garlan’s house, and he released his balled up fists long enough to throw some cash at the driver.  His manners where forgotten when Loras’ well being was in jeopardy.  

Margaery’s car pulled up after him, and he waited to greet her, thankful to finally see a familiar face.  Without Loras, he often felt completely alone in the world.  Like he was returning to the state of mind he’d grown up in…loneliness.  This wasn’t true anymore.  He was a Tyrell now.  He had Garlan, Willas, Olenna…an entire support system.  And of course, he had Margaery.

He pulled her into a hug immediately, burying his face in her curls the way he would with Loras.  It only made him feel worse, knowing it could be an indefinite amount of time before he could do that again.  ”I’m so scared for him,” he whispered, unable to make a move towards the door.

[margy-tyrell]

The car was crawling through London at a snails pace. It had taken all of Margaerys grace and charm not to snap at her driver and demand that he put his foot down. It wasn’t his fault that the traffic was nose to tail in London, it wasn’t his fault that Loras had insisted on writing his articles, it wasn’t his fault that Jon Stark had proved to be an utter bastard. Resisting the urge to scream Margaery nodded her goodbye as she jumped out of the car and spotted Renly climbing out of a black cab.

He looked awful already.

She was pulled into his arms and she sank into his chest, breathing in the familiar burberry scent and she immediately relaxed a little. Spotting the books he carried she was suddenly filled with the knowledge that they were going to get him out, and that he would be fine. He was with the Nights Watch, they didn’t work directly for Stannis, and Jon was a Stark after all. That ever present honour would rear its ugly head eventually. Running her fingers through his hair she let him nuzzle against her hair. As he spoke she frowned, dropping her hand from his shoulder and down to capture his larger one in her own. Squeezing it she replied quietly, “We don’t have time to be scared.” She said frowning, “Come on. Lets get him out.” She said leading him towards the house.

[gtyrell-blog]

Garlan had been at the window, eyes burning holes into the back of Renly's head. He'd been on the phone to Satin not too long ago, telling him to feed his brother, supply him with food, the usual shit, and whilst doing so had poured himself a glass--a very large glass--of red wine. He didn't drink it often and when he did it worked furiously fast through his veins, he could feel it now, colouring his cheeks slightly and thrumming beneath his skin.

As the two turned towards the door Garlan found himself dragging his bare feet over the carpet to meet them there. So Loras is in jail, he thought, with the Night's Watch, it could always have been worse, and they were Tyrells at the end of the day, there isn't much chance he'll be in there long.

He pressed his lips together and pulled the door open as they approached, waiting to lead them into the house properly. It was a nice house, there was no doubt about that, homely despite it's high ceilings, it was sparse, yet cosy, a the floors were bare of carpets and it left polished, bare floorboards, shaggy carpets, in some places only the concrete, but somehow it worked.

'D'you want a drink?'