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...
YELLOW ROSE – INTENSE EMOTION, JEALOUSY, INFIDELITY
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HIGHGARDEN IS golden.
Sitting high on a verdant hill, it overlooks the Mander in all directions. Despite the three rings of white stone walls which block the castle from the dangers of the Reach, Caecilia can still see her childhood home glittering from its perch. Home. How long has it been since she felt as warm as she does now, the heat dancing gently along her skin, a hug that she will never have to slither out of. It is warm even in winter. The carriage winds through the walled path that climbs higher and higher up the hill, up and up and up. Caecilia's eyes flutter shut and she pretends, for a moment, that she is flying high in the air, a dove with soft white wings gliding on the wind, diving here and there, letting the sun beat against her back.
She is free. She is home.
Giggling halts her thoughts and her eyes snap open. Outside, the colourful gardens are crawling with fiddlers and singers playing jaunty tunes, welcoming guests from all over with folk songs about the Reach, and the Tyrell's, and Highgarden's formidability. Girls dance nearby in pretty dresses, twirling around and around and around until they blur into one, just more flowers grown in walled-off gardens. Their skirts look so light. Caecilia's dress feels so heavy. She prays that her mother has kept some of her old gowns, the light ones made of pale pink silk that flutters around her legs like tulip petals, and blue crepe like clusters of hydrangea, and purple chiffon like hanging wisteria.
When she sighs, it is wistful. It is woeful. It is longing for a time she left behind, now just a victim of potent nostalgia that hits as the familiar scent of the overgrown rose bushes climbing the high white walls hits her.
The carriage grinds to a halt. Caecilia nearly flies forward from her seat, but Trevyr is quick to throw his arm out and keep her in place, pushed back against the plush leather seats. Lunette jumps out of the carriage as soon as the door is opened, calling on her father who is waiting for her by the castle door, his dark green cloak dusting the grass. Ser Vortimer Crane is taller than any Tyrell man – actually, he towers over every man he comes into contact with, except for the Clegane brothers – with arms the width of Caecilia's head. His dark brown skin contrasts greatly with her pale brother standing next to him and his head has been shaved recently. He has been master-at-arms at Highgarden since Caecilia and Lunette were toddlers still in cloths and he looks just at home here as any Tyrell could.
He grins as soon as Lunette rushes into sight and is quick to throw his arms around her and welcome her into a hug. She squeals as her father lifts her off of her feet and laughs as he twirls her around.
Caecilia is slower getting out of the carriage.
There are no arms for her to run into.
Trevyr ducks his head low as he slips out of the carriage, one hand coming to rest on Caecilia's back. "That is Lunette's father?" She nods. She wonders what Ser Vortimer would think of her new swordsmanship. He would probably find some way to critique it or he would be upset she has not come to him first.
