#tirius 003

[ofgoldengrove]

setting: highgarden, after mathis receives a letter from lucrezia, he decides to return to court, firstly to see his brother, but soon his stay will become less temporary and more prolonged (set before the death of septon demir) ; starter for @tiriusrowan

mathis was led through the familiar halls of highgarden, the soft click of his boots against the stone floor echoing in the quiet. he passed through the long corridors, decorated with tapestries depicting scenes from the reach’s history, each one a reminder of what had been and what was to come. he had always been fond of this place, the warmth of the stone, the smell of roses in the air, the quiet hum of life that surrounded the castle.

his thoughts turned to tirius, to the months that had passed since they'd last shared any real time together. the letter from lucrezia had been a catalyst, yes, but it was his brother that brought him back. he’d distanced himself, lost in his new keep, new duties. in the beauty of standfast and away from the court, finding pieces of himself he had lost in the sands of the summer isles.

finally, he arrived at the sitting room where he’d asked to meet the hand. the door was already cracked open, and mathis stepped in, his eyes scanning the space before settling on the window. the fading light of the day streamed through the glass, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. it was a simple room, but one filled with warmth, a stark contrast to the weight that had been hanging over the reach for so long.

the door opened, and mathis looked up, his mouth already curling into an easy smile. "ah, there he is," he said, rising smoothly to his feet. "i was beginning to wonder if you'd send a steward in your place." his tone was light, teasing, but his eyes searched tirius’s face for something deeper, something unspoken.

he gestured toward the seat across from him, making himself comfortable once more. "i thought it was about time i paid my brother a visit," he continued, keeping his voice casual, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "too much time spent away, and people start to think you've disappeared altogether. besides, i figured you'd appreciate a familiar face that isn't asking you for anything."

he leaned back slightly, fingers drumming lazily against the arm of his chair. "so," he exhaled, letting the silence stretch just long enough before filling it again, "tell me, how is everything?"

[visxionaries]

who: @tiriusrowan when and where; highgarden, shortly following the return of the reach court from a hunting trip, the hand of the king hears news that only reflects the gloomy weather. me: i miss tirius being hella out of pocket so here we go

there was a light, healthy drizzle of rain that opened up from the skies above the fertile fields of the reach: any sound of it drowned out by the sounds of hooves making impact with wet puddles, the chorus of the reach's court trailing through the grand white gates of highgarden's outer wall. men and women alike of noble classes found themselves upon their steeds, having only recently returned from a hunting progression that had taken the majority of the day.

the sky began to be tainted hues of orange and pink as cedric tyrell slipped from his horse, boots landing upon the cobbles beneath him. and behind him, the sun too began to sink from it's place in the world.

a leather glove remained on the mane of the dark chestnut horse he rode, having only recently found himself enjoying the sport that was hunting. as though it took the thrill of the chase from something else, and allowed his mind some sense of clarity. there was no overcomplicating matters of nature - there was the hunted, and the hunters. he called to the brothers of house rowan, briefly hearing mathis yelling something to him, half chuckling.

he noted a servant approaching the hand of the king, the eldest of the rowans of goldengrove; and it was nothing he looked at.

until he felt the atmosphere slowly shift, and drain from around him; cedric tyrell had always remained an inherently observant individual, understanding of emotions whilst not taking them into any serious account. still, a striking ocean gaze flickered over to the man he had chosen as hand in times of hardship, and kept in times of relative peace. there was something akin to a storm across his face, and cedric found himself inwardly betting on what was the news.

had one of the rowan children fled to essos in pursuit of their mother?

cedric said nothing as the man spoke to his servant in the tongue of the old way, simply waiting for the man to steady himself enough to approach him, and address the matter. their gaze locked.