#c: garland

[visxionaries]

a short, brief letter received by @garlandhightower and @altanryams from cedric tyrell, set before his conversation with lord omer florent. in this, a precedent is set (this is also sent to fergus blackbar!)

lords of the reach,

from this day, you are charged with ensuring your smugglers, thieves and looters remain underground - where they belong. the roads and all public domain are to remain clear of any territorial disputes between the common thugs of oldtown, the arbor, brightwater and bandallon.

any who break this decree will be subject to economic sanction imposed by the crown. those involved will be strung up and hung on the sides of the roads.

heed the warning.

king cedric of house tyrell, first of his name.

[lucreziasredwyne]

who: @garlandhightower​ (semi-flashback thread) where: the solar of garland hightower within the castle of highgarden, prior to everyone’s arrival to highgarden.  when: shortly following omer and garland’s disastrous interaction. 

her skirts swished around the marble on the floor, hands clasped before her before she even entered his chambers - was she nervous? no. yes, quite obviously by the looks of it. by what she had heard, the conversation did not take place entirely well; no, it would have been better if such a conversation had not occurred at all by the sounds of it. two men so stubborn in their pride and their own ego; how was it ever to work? a part of her wonders whether she ought to have been there, to try and defuse the situation - and yet still, she knew some things needed to be settled between the pair of them. 

the lord of oldtown and the fox of brightwater had a history that went far beyond her, far before her. she needed to have some trust in that. 

her own mind had been made up - no doubt to the creeping disappointment of her kin. whilst their relationship was filled with differences, there was no denying what his presence had been in her life; and she could hope that her presence had helped him some regard too. that it was more than the ties of blood and family that made them want to remain in one another’s lives, but it was because they genuinely wanted to. whilst lucrezia was not a ward of house hightower, garland had taken his responsibilities as her eldest male relative seriously. a difficult matter, when she was a ruling lady in her own right. the waters they tread were sometimes murky, clouded in miscommunication and the want to give up - and there were times where their stubbornness only bounced on one another. 

she remained stood in his entrance to his solar for a moment, noting the winding staircase that made it’s way up to his desk where he no doubt would be planted. he would be stressed, and therefore, the books would be piling. “lulu!” came a shrieking voice, and she visibly jumped as she looked up toward where she knew the voice came from. his blasted raven. she wished it would fly itself into the crackling hearth someday. “i am coming upstairs.” she called, her hand on the railing as she lifted the bottom of her skirts, taking the winding spiral staircase up to the part of his solar where he had banished himself. 

she stood at the arch for a moment, hand remaining on the railing of the staircase. whilst it felt as though her chest would burst from how much she wanted to tell him, it felt as though her lips and her eyes had been tainted with a sense of shame and guilt for the way she had destroyed herself to ultimately understand. she did this for the gods, as much as she did this for herself; it was the way to make things right. still, she could tell by the look on his face that he was utterly perplexed. that this had seemingly come from nowhere. 

she should have said something. how could she have said something? she should have said something. “hello.” she spoke, her voice somewhat weary as she looked upon him; both of them looking at one another in the aftermath of what feels like a slap in the face for the lord of oldtown. she wordlessly stepped forward, removing some of the pile of books from his desk, to a space on his desk so they did not teeter and pile. “i wanted to come and see you.” she spoke over the pile of books, continuing to decrease the pile. 

[gcuienveres]

who: @garlandhightower where: one of the long galleries within the castle of highgarden, connecting two great rooms of state. there are courtiers dotted along the corridor, though the lord of the hightower and the princess of the west along the middle of it.

a public meeting should have been enough to ensure there would be no backlash, no need for whispers or side glances in the direction of two figures talking in secret corners of rooms or on far enough trails of endless, bountiful gardens. and it was have been enough to suppress such backlash, if they had been anyome but their names: garland hightower, and guinevere lannister. it would be enough to pick up discussion and gossip from those cravens who wrote the pamphlets, to the courtiers that were dotted up and down the length of the great gallery.

prior to formally making her request for a meeting, she had weighed up all that would happen when the news reached back to the lions of the rock. arron's reaction would be fuming, as it was anytime the lord of oldtown and the princess of the rock were in the same vicinity, even during their sham of a betrothal. and yet, the lord of the hightower was the man who ruled the city in which the faith was based. and yet, even the faith had struck out against the streets of oldtown. "forgive me, lord hightower." she spoke, following his description and report of the day a faith militant had taken to the brothel lined streets.

"even if established prior to independence, all realms abide by the law decreed by king jaehaerys. no king or queen across all realms have approved the use of a faith militant." her brow furrowed slightly. "there is reason to demand justice, by law. the morality of those who fell victim to those attacks need not even be in the discussion."

and everyone would have heard of the incident that had occurred within her chambers, with the lord commander following the orders that had been instructed by him, and the outcome. everything that had spiralled. she remembered the sight of the rainbow glassed seven pointed star clenched within a hand that was now only a remanent of what else had departed. it was impossible for the choir boy to have been the only one remaining silently loyal to the faith; unwilling to accept the lion king's stance on declaring himself head of the faith of the west. logically, statistically, it would be impossible.

there was a reason behind this conversation. guinevere lannister did not enjoy conversations these recent times. she had not come to enquire as to lord garland hightower's wellbeing; especially considering the way his union with her kin had ended. the real reason, lay within the letter that she had face down against her skirts as she walked, folded neatly. "i fear the holy father himself, or his council, are isolating the faith from those who stand by it. it is through their attempts to engage in conflict with the rulers of the realms - forcing a side." they worked separately. they did not involve themselves. faith and state.

"the stance will be felt in ripples by those silent faithful in the kingdom of his majesty, king tyland, first of his name. those so silent, i know only they exist: i know not who they are."

[nasirofmanderlys]

who: @garlandhightower​ where: the kingdom of the reach, prior to the northern court’s departure from the meeting of the realms. the manderly ship heading for the iron bank has not yet been looted, and prince jon remains alive.

of all the things he had expected to find himself doing upon returning to the kingdom of the reach, seeing starpike was not it. and yet, the manderlys had gone to see the former seat of house peake, who had reportedly now diminished into absolutely nothing - the seat now taken by lord lucca of house tyrell. he had heard nothing of the man, despite the fact he was the current heir of the king of the reach. was that a good thing? he knew not. still, looking upon the castle was a strange experience, something that made him feel entirely anticlimactic: for years, he had wondered what their ancestral homeland had looked like. 

“thank you for agreeing to meet with me, lord hightower.” green and black. it mattered not anymore. nasir cared not for the dragons, cared not for sides of green and black. he answered the starks, and the starks answered to the black dragons. many in the north did not truly care for the events of the crownlands themselves.

he had wondered whether he would feel something upon seeing the keep, upon walking the halls. in those years before their ancient exile, back when the gardener kings ruled over the rolling hills of the reach. they had done something to overreach, apparently; and it was enough for house peake to finally conspire for the exile of their greatest enemy and threat.

“the northern court is soon planning to depart. i thought it necessary we meet before the journey begins.”

he felt nothing there. he felt nothing regarding those of house manderly who had once walked through these halls; only realised that what had been prewritten by the gods had ultimately been their blessing. he who ruled the house in the moment of their exile must have thought this would be the end of their house; and if anything, nasir wished to be there if only to let something in the air know house manderly were not finished. they had risen to such ranks, to heights of such dizzying power in the north. they were where they were supposed to be, truly. 

“i tell you plainly, the city of white harbor will continue to answer to the starry sept of oldtown.” 

there had been discussions regarding the state of the faith. whether they too would follow in the shadow of the lion king, who had his points - and who did not have his points, all at once. he had broken the news of his decision to the winter king earlier this morning, and now found himself dining with the ruling lord of oldtown as per his request. a meeting with lord manderly must have been a strange thing to witness, and yet, there was a reason for this discussion. “for as long as it is apparent the voice of oldtown is working to handle the clear issue within the faith.” 

nasir wanted to see the capabilities of who was responsible for the establishment thousands answered to. to see whether the growing issue of the high septon could be handled. the growing pressures of the crusade were not to help in this moment; especially when house manderly could not afford to send any troops. not yet. not with the swirling of the darkest of currents again. “what actions are being taken to try and bring peace back to the faith?”

[visxionaries]

who: @garlandhightower​ where: cedric tyrell’s private audience chamber, within his inner apartments. set shortly after the interaction cedric had with septon androw, regarding who remained responsible for breaking the law against the faith militancy, established by king jaehaerys so many years ago.

time had passed, and yet, the wound remained open. open, and it grew infected and it festered with what felt like everything all at once. the world seemed to continue, the celebrations and the diplomacy continued as the kingdom of the reach picked up the pieces of the shock of what had occurred. the inhabitants of oldtown attempting to get through their days, after being shaken to their very core; for whilst the attack targeted the workers within brothels, it felt as though it was only a demonstration of what could come next. would it be bankers next, for usury? artists, for expression? 

the king had recently returned from oldtown itself, setting off some days following the attack. he had spent a week within the bustling city, located within the hightower; garland was busy with his new braavosi betrothed, and cedric took the time to reassure the people of oldtown with his presence. he was seen speaking with the high septon repeatedly, in ways the lord of oldtown was too worked up and angry to speak about; and then the announcement of a crusade of all things. as though no matter how much he held his breath, there would always be something else; it felt as though he would need to learn to walk on currents, for the water would never still. 

the discussions with the most devout and the high septon was one in which cedric was entirely masked; apparently appearing as though he were trying to compromise, to meet in the middle to find a way to work with the high septon rather than make it obvious he had an enemy in the king as well as the lord of oldtown. and it was in these discussions was he able to pull forth a name: a name, to be held responsible for the violation of the law rolled out by king jaehaerys, so many years ago. whilst the reach no longer answered to the dragons, it was a law they continued to live by; the faith was to have no militancy. 

it was not just this individual. he knew it would have been androw, or perhaps it was not this individual at all. and yet, it was name; someone house hightower could paint as responsible for the actions and provide some solace to the people. grumbling of such violence going unspoken for. “septon stone, was the name given to me. directly from his mouth.” cedric spoke, leaning forward to take a bunch of fresh purple grapes off the vine. he plucked them one by one onto a golden plate, though his ocean hues remained fixed on garland. “do as you wish with it. he will know once it is done, and it is the last time he will speak to me of anything.” 

was it worth waiting to see if cedric could get anything more? was their any use in pretending any further? the high septon was no fool either, and as much as cedric tried to use subtle methods of manipulation to try and set up dialogue in which there could be a slip, there was never one. even this name, this septon stone, was a calculated choice. he chose to give it over. it was no slip. “your people need to know some sense of justice has been delivered.” 

[visxionaries]

who: @garlandhightower​ where: the kings audience solar, highgarden, the kingdom of the reach

It seemed as though the name Garland Hightower had become synonymous with scandal itself in weeks and months; to pair it with the influence and the lingering memory of the dangerous ambition of that Hightower beacon that burned green upon a call to war added only another level of lingering corruption that seemed to swirl around the Lord of Oldtown. There was a time where none other but Cedric and the traitor who once wore the crown upon chestnut curls knew of the extent of Garland's impulsive choices, and yet, when his Master of Coin had spoken of his intentions to see the union come to an end, it were as though the Gods themselves laughed.

"Always early."

The thunder that brew within him was the laugh of the Gods, brimming on the edge of something that was far greater than he felt he could ever feel; though it simmered quickly and quietly with the knowledge that what had once been the greatest thorn in his side regarding this whole matter would end up being exactly what was needed to ensure this derailed nothing. Two of the greatest powers of the continent seemed to have a relationship that consisted of golden daggers being hidden beneath thorns and roses, as though both were determined to avoid being the reason for the deterioration of such a study alliance.

None would know of the words exchanged between the King of the Reach and the Lord of Hightower the day intentions were finally in the open, spoken into physical existence; none would know the exact details of the severity and the finality that was issued in regards to everything that was legacy itself for the Hightowers, and how if it were the role itself that was causing such repeated impulsive decisions, then the role would be one that could be easily cropped at the neck.

"Sit down - I have news that will make you a happy man."

There were many others in the world that dreamed of having what it was the Hightowers had, at the end of the day. It was time to understand what it was Otto had meant in preserving the family legacy, and if one could not, then stepping or falling down was a choice that was ultimately left to him.

Ocean hues flickered dangerously as he came to the conclusion that what was once the biggest thorn in his side would be his legitimate reason for seeing this matter dissolved by the High Septon; for Tyland Lannister had once declared his own sister's marriage invalid as a result of it being based in an elopement, there would be no choice but to do just that all over again. Cedric had no issue in utilising the misfortunate and inequality in the world if it meant he would only further secure the position of himself and his council. 

Once Garland had assured there was no possibility his wife could be pregnant, the process had begun.

And in the process, Cedric Tyrell swiftly and casually destroyed the reputation of the Lady Calla Lefford - she who was innocent of any crime apart from the foolishness of falling head over heels in some fascination rather than love, and it was she who would pay the ultimate time for it. The Westerlands were no forgiving place for women, and yet, the elopement gave the Reach enough of a claim to see the dissolution put through the High Septon and done.

The King slipped correspondence from the High Septon across his desk, leaning back slightly in his chair as his Master of Coin looked over it. "The Lady is ruined." There was not a part of him that cared, pleased this matter can finally be put to rest. "But it is done, as though it was never valid at all." Perhaps it was perfect timing, considering the news that had come from Longtable; the eldest Merryweather bitch was now kin, and yet, she would soon realise just how the Tyrells too had a habit of destroying one another.

"Expect an Oakheart dowry for the royal treasury." "And Guinevere Lannister for the Hightower, as your wife." He then slipped another document to him, consisting of a set amount of gold coins, Hands, to be granted annually within the Hightower fund automatically from the royal treasury.

"And for the boy."

[visxionaries]

who: @garlandhightower​ where: highgarden, the reach

The Chamber of the Small Council rang with the sound of chairs skidding across checkered black and white marble, each member of the inner circle rising from the lengthy table as the ink of their work came to slowly dry. Vines and ivy wrapped around towering marble white columns, A first draft, written in the hand of the Mistress of Laws, of an Act that was no doubt to cause Cedric Tyrell to be responsible for much bloodshed soon to be swept across the land within the next couple of days. It made the pit of his stomach drop, the slow realisation and momentary dawning of just how far they had come; and how much further they had still yet to go - and it all would cost them. 

Still, as he watched the figures of Harlon Tarly, Lucrezia Redwyne and Omer Florent quietly convene to discuss their departure plans for Horseshoe Rock soon, the Regent had reached forward to ask Garland to stay behind for a word, though judging by the tone of his voice they were not to be on entirely pleasant matters. There were two matters that needed discussing and addressing, the first linking directly to the parchment they had just drafted - regarding a certain Hightower who would most likely refuse to accept the change in their situation, or in a shocking turn of events, hold on until the very end. The second however, consisted of a certain flame haired Westerlander with whom Cedric had encountered in a precarious situation; the man had not stayed, not wanting to further worsen the situation or give further chance for gossip. 

He would build up to the matter of that alliance; it was one he felt important, knowing the Reach and the Westerlands united ensured the great powers were not at one another’s throat, despite the tensions that boiled between them regarding the Lion King’s Great Matter. Still, his niece Cerenna was proof that the alliance would hold; the negotiations between the kingdoms were smooth, uneventful, both far too preoccupied in networking within the Riverlands and their own issues. “I wanted to speak to you directly, and ensure you know I understand the precarious situation the Act puts you in.” Cedric spoke, his tone different to the formal tone he used when conducting council meets, passing Garland a goblet of Arbor wine. “I know it is not Gael that will be the cause of your troubles, Garland. Know I will be as lenient as I can be.” 

[visxionaries]

who: @wcrdsarewind​ @ofgoldengrove, @harlonvflowers, @garlandhightower, @florencehightower, @rhea-florent​ where: the reach settlements, barrowtown, the north what: the abduction of lord omer florent, lord commander of the reach

the wooden doors seemed to slam shut behind the stream of individuals that had swiftly made their way into a chamber upon the news of their lord commander being taken, amongst many others. in truth, cedric tyrell's main priority was securing the location of omer florent above all else. the man's wellbeing was a matter that could only be addressed closer the time; and cedric himself had faith in his stubborn ability to survive. "there has been no news from torrhen stark for he is dealing with the abduction of lady karstark." he spoke, his tone serious. "meaning, i am inclined to believe that this was not coordinated by the starks as revenge for the chaos of our allies the other night upon their soil. it's a threat."