you cannot kill a flower, for it will grow back stronger than before...
caecilia tyrell shed her petals a long time ago and replaced them with thorns. no longer the daisy of highgarden, she brandishes a bow and arrow and devotes herself to the seven...
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NOBODY COMES to the forest.
It is too foreboding for the Tarly's, who watch the grey clouds of winter cover the expanse of the sky and refuse to leave the warm confinements of their speckled pink towers. They sit by fires and sew and drink ale that dribbles down their chin, and they ignore the message from the Gods, who cover their skies with darkness in warning of their idleness.
There are three inhabitants of the tower, however, who spend long afternoons in the empty forest, in the clearing full of twilight hornflowers. They watch the darkening clouds and smile, for it feels far more like home to be caught in the rain than it is to sit in that poor excuse for a castle for any amount of time.
Caecilia slashes a dull iron sword against the bark of the closest tree. Most of it has been flayed off by this same sword, bark flying everywhere as she follows the movements set out to her by Trevyr. Foot forward, foot back, lunge. Turn. This way. That way. Forward. Back. Duck. Jump. Over and over again. She has begun to mumble his commands in her sleep, and each night, he lays awake for a few minutes longer just to hear her voice copy his.
Lunette sits on a picnic blanket near the edge of the clearing close by, where her laughter rings out as she watches Caecilia stumble when the tree does not immediately give way to her. Or it used to, for now Caecilia has defeated the tree time and time again, and Lunette is forced to watch in awe instead of reading one of the multitude of books she brings outside with her.
The blonde steps away from the flayed tree with a triumphant smile. The sword falls with a soft thud to the flower-clad grass. She huffs out a breath, hands on her hips, and her chest puffs out. Caecilia was never one to gloat, raised to be a proper lady by a mother who hid her pride behind spiteful comments, but now she turns towards her husband and her grin conveys all the smugness she had been far too afraid to show when she first arrived at Horn Hill.
"I think I may be able to take on a couple dozen wolves by now, wouldn't you say dear?"
Trevyr laughs and pushes himself off of the tree he was using to lean. "Shall I fetch them, then, darling? Caecilia pales a little at the suggestion that she will soon be surrounded by bloodthirsty wolves who remember the scent of her blood clinging to their teeth. He laughs again and picks up her discarded sword. One day, he will treat her to a real sword, made of beautiful glimmering steel, that weighs in her hand the blood of all her enemies.
"I must admit you are far better than you were six months ago. Maybe, I shall reward you for it."
"A reward?" She presses her body into the side of his arm and blinks once, twice, thrice up at him. His chuckle is a little throatier than before. His hand curls around her cheek and he tilts her head back so he can press a chaste kiss to her lips. He only ever deepens it when they are having sex.
