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Still adjusting to his new position as Lord of Crakehall, he had yet to claim his father’s study for himself. Instead he continued to use his own ( perhaps due to a sense of nostalgia that he’d never admit to ) with admittance strictly by invitation only. He was far from a strict Lord, he was one for high standards but he’d always found that a good nature made those around him far more willing to do his bidding, but the one unbreakable rule he did have was that he wasn’t to be bothered there. Not when he found it to be the place where he had all his best ideas, thoughts crafting themselves into delicate strategies that would crumble should too many discover them, such were the careful nature of his schemes. Privately he likened himself to an architect, determined to shape the future with his visions of what could be. His brother Lyle had always been strong and consistent, the perfect foundation on which to build his plans. The pair were always in sync with one another and he was filled with certainty that they wouldn’t even need to have a discussion before doing what needed to be done. Not when they had always acted in the best interest of Crakehall and its people.

Merlon had always been the more unpredictable sibling and so despite his desire to bring both his brothers more firmly into the fold, he found it difficult to place quite as much trust in his youngest brother. Perhaps it was unfair of him and he certainly had no wish to cause any discord or tensions between his siblings, so he did his best to ensure that both felt valued and useful in his plans. After all, dissatisfaction could be so corrosive. The information that the youngest Crakehall could give him was truly invaluable though, so when it came to plotting their next moves he knew that discussions would need to be had in person. A raven had been sent days ago to summon his brother home and he had waited patiently for the other’s arrival. When someone finally entered his study he knew exactly who it would be, barely glancing up on greeting. “So glad you could join me, brother.” There was a hint of dryness to his words, a gentle jest to re-establish the comradery between them. “I trust your journey was comfortable?” Pleasantries had their place but they both knew why they were there and so he swiftly follows his question with the more pressing one as he poured them both a glass of wine. “What news from the capital?”

@ofthefirstmen

#threads: tybolt #tybolt threads: merlon #threads: all #muse: tybolt

If there was one thing he truly hated in the world ( apart from his growing disdain for Cersei Lannister ) it was tardiness. He had always been careful not to form strong opinions on things when he knew that his goals would undoubtedly require flexibility from him, therefore it was better not to get set in his ways. But he had always found something detestable in the lack of discipline and planning that allowed lateness to happen. This time though his displeasure was aimed at himself when he was running nothing more than a handful of minutes late. It was only a fraction behind the time he’d organised a meeting with Cerelle Lefford but by his own high standards he might as well have been an hour. He always liked to be the one to arrive first, that small victory that came with being the more punctual and he found himself cursing the meeting with some Reach lord that had caused him to end up in this position.

There was no hint of this displeasure on his features as he arrives at the gardens, smile on his lips as his gaze lands on the one he’s supposed to be meeting. “Lady Cerelle, thank you for your patience.” There’s no apology from his lips when he’d grown accustomed to avoiding them if he didn’t deem them essential. It wasn’t that he was too prideful to let such a thing slip, on the contrary he was quite forthcoming with them on the rare occasion he was ever wrong or his charm had been miscalculated and he’d caused a slight. Too often an apology left someone thinking as though they had the upper hand and he had no intention of ever giving life to such an idea. He’d found that a compliment extolling their virtues seemed to smooth things over just as easily without giving even the slightest hint of vulnerability. Leaving behind only his cool confidence and smooth self assuredness.

For the first time he takes in the woman who was to be his sister in law, pleased that the rumours about her beauty had been proven true. The match was a political one but there was no denying that adding a jewel to their crown was more than a small bonus. “My brother sends his deepest regrets that he’s been delayed, I hope you won’t mind my company in his absence.” Lyle had shown little interest in the match when it had been arranged and he was showing even less now. However, he had no doubt that his brother would do his duty, all he had to do was keep the future Crakehall bride happy in the meantime. Smile was sent her way once more, offering his arm so they could set off on their stroll around the grounds, under the watchful eye of all around. “Shall we?”