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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LUNETTE WRAPS a warm cloak around Caecilia's shoulders, both of them watching as heavy grey clouds gather above Horn Hill's shivering towers. Last night, as she and Trevyr lay in bed together, enough space between them that it felt like sleeping alone, she had promised her husband to accompany him to his favourite spot in the woods. She had been half asleep when she had made the promise, turned over to watch the heavy curtains sway gently in the nighttime wind starting to blow through the cracks in the window, pain thudding between her legs. She could feel Trevyr smiling as she agreed and he'd leant over the chasm of their bed to run his hand over her shoulder, squeezing tightly.
His touch had chilled her skin.
Now, she runs her fingers over the cold stone ledge of the window. It may be chilly outside but the Maester's had promised that rain was not to come, just wind that would pass by before they even noticed, and she had made her own promise to her husband. She could not turn her back on him.
"Are you sure you wish to ride, Cilia?" Lunette is always soft-spoken, hushed words whispered between her and her lady. It is why they always duck their heads together, not wishing to shout and holler like most of the ladies stuck at Horn Hill seem to do. Trevyr's cousins are louder even than Janna, who has always been partial to gossiping loud enough for the subject of the scandal to hear.
Why could she not have married a second son with a castle of his own?
She can see herself decorating as she likes. Trevyr would let her, after all, always eager to please her even when it does not seem quite possible. She would hang tapestries made by Mina in every bedroom and Lunette's paintings of landscapes and the flowers of Highgarden would swing in every hallway, brightening up dark walkways with no windows to light their way. She would sprinkle lavender on every pillow so that they may fall asleep easier and she would open up the kitchen doors so that the delicious scent of freshly cooked food would travel through every hallway. Nobody would be stuck indoors if they did not wish to be. She would plant flowers on every patch of land so that during the height of summer, one could lay in the soothing scents of wildflowers and allow the sun to kiss every inch of available skin. They would grow their own fruits and vegetables in a greenhouse made of glass and she would travel with Trevyr to the closest forest so they could pick mushrooms and hope they held hallucinogenic properties during the most boring nights of winter.
She and Trevyr may actually stand a chance of falling in love if they had their own castle. With auburn-haired children running amok, their sweet laughter singing the most angelic song in the hallways. He would teach their children to hunt and swing a sword, even their daughters if they wished. She would teach them to sew and read. And, just as her mother taught her, she would teach her children which plants could be used for poisons. A woman's weapon, they call it, and yet it has killed more men than swords ever could.
