harlonvflowers

[harlonvflowers]

.

harlon hesitated, his hand hovering briefly over the arm of the chair as if grounding himself before settling fully into the seat. cedric’s words, sharp but laced with that undeniable undertone of care, settled uncomfortably in his chest. he let out a slow breath, leaning back slightly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to gather his thoughts.

“it’s nothing,” he started, though the weak protest sounded hollow even to his own ears. his lips twitched into a humorless smile, his gaze darting briefly to the scrolls cluttering cedric’s desk before returning to meet the king’s piercing stare. “or, maybe it’s everything. i don’t know.” he leaned back, running a hand over his jaw, the faint scent of smoke from his earlier indulgence clinging to him. harlon speaking with cedric as any friend might…as a brother should. “you’re right,” harlon admitted, his voice low but steady. “i’ve been… distracted. distant, i suppose”

he paused, the weight of the moment thick between them, before continuing. “i’ve been trying to find my footing, cedric. trying to do what’s expected of me as lord of horn hill. and on paper, it looks fine—stable lands, loyal bannermen, a healthy family.” his voice softened slightly at the last part, his thoughts drifting briefly to rhea and their children. “but it doesn’t feel fine. it feels like i’m standing still while everyone else is doing something important.”

harlon leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “you have the crown. rhea has her web of secrets. our friends, they’re shaping the realm every damn day, making decisions that’ll echo for years. and then there’s me, stuck playing the dutiful lord, trying not to trip over my own shadow.”

his eyes flicked downward, his fingers tracing the grain of the wood on the armrest. “i’m not complaining, cedric. i know why i can’t be more involved—why it’s safer this way. but i’m restless. and i can’t shake this feeling that i should be doing more, need to be doing more.”

he paused, the vulnerability of his words sinking in. it wasn’t easy to admit these things, not even to cedric. “i thought maybe coming here, talking to you, might help me figure out what the hell i’m supposed to do next. how to be more than… this. something that’ll make me feel less like i’m running in place.”

harlon leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his tone softening but the look on his face serious. “i’m not saying i regret where i am or what i’ve done—helping you, being legitimized, taking horn hill. i’d do it all again in a heartbeat. but i just can’t shake the feeling that it isn’t enough.” that i’m not enough.

♠

cedric tyrell leaned back in his chair, the weight of everything between them settling heavier than usual as he regarded harlon. there was the faintest smile on his lips at the mention of the baby, but his eyes betrayed something deeper, sharper—a mix of pride, guilt, and unease. the man before him wasn’t just harlon tarly, lord of horn hill, head of a proud and ancient house. he was a reminder of secrets cedric had buried beneath highgarden’s roses, secrets that still pricked like thorns.

“a new child,” cedric said, his voice soft, measured; almost as though he were pondering on the matter. “why does it feel as though helena was only born a month ago?” the faint attempt at humor hung awkwardly in the air as he motioned to the chair across from him. such was the reality of time now; cedric hardly felt it pass, whilst there was no doubt harlon must have felt much of it. and there was no denying that the change in their lives, and that secret agreement they had come to that continued to linger over their heads now, had resulted in a quiet distance forming.

“sit man, there’s no need for you to stand and loom like that—like i’m about to be scolded.”

as harlon eased into the chair, cedric steepled his fingers, leaning forward slightly. he tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in his chest, that quiet tug between pride in harlon’s successes and the knowledge of how they had come to be. of all the people in his life, people would not expect it to be harlon that seemed to make him feel the most reflective; and yet, it were impossible to not look upon harlon and realise how far they had come. or how far they had sunk.

“you’ve been distant.” the words came out more abruptly than he intended, and he paused, gathering himself. for a moment he thought of how to reword it, but he found himself with no intention of doing so. “not just in letters, but in presence. i’ve noticed. it’s not something that escapes me, harlon, especially not with you.” his eyes searched harlon’s face for a reaction, a crack in the mask of calm.

“so what is it?”

[harlonvflowers]

.

harlon looked up at rhea, his heart catching as it always did when she used the words mo shíorghrá. my eternal love. he wondered if she knew how much power those words had over him, how they could make him feel like the world wasn’t quite so heavy when she said them.

but tonight, the weight still clung stubbornly to his shoulders.

“i’m sorry,” he muttered, stubbing out the joint in the small dish on the table. the ember hissed, a sharp little sound in the quiet of the study. “you shouldn’t be up. you need rest.”

even as he said it, he reached for her hand, gently pulling her closer, craving the comfort of her touch. he pressed his lips to her fingers, lingering there a moment before looking back at her. her eyes, always so sharp and knowing, were softened by concern. it made him feel both grateful and guilt-ridden all at once.

“i just…” he began, hesitating, unsure how to put his thoughts into words without sounding ridiculous. he gestured vaguely at the empty air. “i don’t know, rhea. everything feels so… off. you’re you. my wife. the mistress of whispers. the woman who could untangle a conspiracy while rocking a baby to sleep. and i—” he stopped himself, shaking his head with a small, humorless laugh.

“i feel like i’m playing at being a lord. horn hill’s fine, the reach is stable, but it’s not enough. it’s like i’m standing still while everyone else is running ahead.” his voice grew quieter, as if confessing a sin. “i’m thinking of going to highgarden to see cedric, but i hate the idea of leaving you so soon. of leaving them.” his eyes flicked toward the door, toward where their son slept, his guilt etched clearly on his face "you deserve more."

Cillian had finally fallen asleep under the spell of clover lullabies and the rocking back and forth in Rhea's arms. Her patience —which had never been her strongest attribute— was tested each time she had to put her baby to sleep. He was a restless little thing, even as the small bundle he was now. Even in silent desperation to have her son close his eyes and rest, the lady did her very best to remain composed. If she got stressed, the chances for Cillian to fall asleep lessened considerably. A baby easily picked up on what a mother conveyed, after all. So calm and composed she had to remain to soothe her little boy, and for the sake of her own sleep.

She carefully placed him in the cradle and moved to the bed, watching him remain quiet and peaceful as he dreamed. She attempted to conjure sleep for herself. Harlon was still in his study, she could see the hint of light from down the hall slipping beneath the bedroom's door. The Mistress of Whispers sat up, setting the covers away, and gave one last look at her sleeping baby before sneaking out of the room.

Rhea did not mind the smoke as she entered her husband's sacred space for thinking, for creating, and sometimes for spiraling as well. The last one, she'd noticed, had become a more recurring occurrence as of late. “Oh love, I could practically hear you thinking from the bedroom,” she stated simply as she moved closer to him, leaning against where he sat. Her tone was half serious and half playful, as it often were. “Your mind's been troubled these past days,” she mentioned, caressing his jaw with two fingers. “Talk to me, mo shíorghrá,” the lady continued, her hand moving to his hair, tenderly brushing it.

[harlonvflowers]

location: in cedric's private study in highgarden. a few weeks after the birth of harlon's son.

@visxionaries

the grandeur of highgarden never ceased to take harlon’s breath away, no matter how many times he visited. it was like stepping into a painting—vivid greens, cascading flowers, and the scent of roses thick in the air. a sense of familiarity after so many years in these halls as a boy. but tonight, as he entered the king’s study his mind was far from the beauty surrounding him.\

harlon stepped inside, his expression neutral, the nwelypracticed demeanor of a lord settling over him. seated behind a desk covered with scrolls and ledgers was cedric, his old friend…a brother and now, his king. another man stood at cedric’s side, an advisor harlon vaguely recognized, though he had never bothered with names for those whose presence felt like barriers to a real conversation. harlon nodded respectfully to him as he approached, his voice measured. “your grace,” he said, inclining his head. formality, as necessary as it was, always felt like sandpaper on his tongue when it came to cedric. but appearances were important, especially with extra eyes in the room.

harlon stood patiently as the advisor quickly finished what he needed to discuss, he kept his gaze neutral, though it strayed to the stack of scrolls and ledgers cluttering the desk. more business, more weight to bear. he wondered briefly how cedric managed to carry it all without crumbling under the strain.

when the advisor finally murmured his leave and exited the room, the door shutting behind him with a faint thud, harlon exhaled a breath he had been holding in. the stiffness in his back eased as he leaned forward slightly, bracing his hands on the edge of a chair. the silence broke as harlon ran a hand through his hair, letting out a quiet laugh, more breath than sound. but he smiled at his friend. “it’s good to see you cedric. sorry i haven’t been able to come by soon enough…new baby and all. i’m excited for you to meet him soon.”

[harlonvflowers]

location: in harlon's study in hornhill. a few weeks after the birth of his son. @rhea-florent

​​harlon sat in his dimly lit study, the faint glow of a single candle casting flickering shadows across the room. the sharp scent of smoke curled around him, a joint balanced between his fingers burning slowly. he exhaled a long, measured breath, watching the smoke dissipate like the worries in his mind refused to. this wasn’t a habit he’d ever meant to pick up, but tonight, the quiet crackle of the burning leaf felt oddly comforting. familiar. it was something to focus on, something to do when his thoughts grew too loud.

the guilt gnawed at him. rhea was just down the hall, hopefully fast asleep, or at least pretending to be for the baby’s sake. she deserved the rest after all she had endured—bringing their son into this world while still managing to pull the strings of the realm like a master puppeteer. she made it look effortless. graceful.

and then there was him. harlon, the bastard lord, stumbling through his duties like a child learning to walk. he knew he wasn’t doing poorly; horn hill was steady under his watch but it wasn’t enough. it didn’t feel enough. people’s quiet reassurances echoed in his ears, but they did little to soothe him. he wasn’t like his wife, who wielded secrets like weapons, nor like his friends, whose voices carried weight at council meetings. he knew he couldnt join them. best to keep his distance to quel the rumors.

he took another drag, letting the ember eat away at the roll. highgarden. it seemed the next step. an attempt to make himself useful, to build alliances, to do something. but the thought of leaving her—leaving them—so soon after their son’s birth felt like a betrayal.

harlon rubbed at his temple and let his head fall back against the chair. the candlelight flickered, the smoke curling upward like a silent prayer. but then he heard a noise and quickly turned to see his wife illuminated in the doorway. “shit…you shouldn’t be in here with all the smoke” he said trying to fan it away. “i thought you went to sleep”

[harlonvflowers]

banter starter for @rhea-florent

where and when: set a few days after arriving in the westerlands and setting up where they will be staying in lannisport. unknown to the two of them rhea is currently pregnant.

"thank you" harlon uttered swiftly, acknowledging the serving girl who had brought the tea set to their rooms. he moved through the chamber with caution, mindful of not spilling the steaming hot water. rhea and harlon’s trunks and chests still strewn about the room as they hadn’t even had much of a chance to unpack anything yet.

navigating through their bedchamber, harlon entered the smaller room where two small desks awaited. it was a space where they could attend to their work if needed, but presently, it seemed as though rhea couldn't focus on anything at all. it pained him to see her like this when he couldnt really do much to help.

“i had some tea sent up. maybe it will help with how you are feeling.” he said pouring her a cup. “perhaps it is all the traveling, you are just feeling out of sorts.” he stood behind her, his hand rubbing small circles on her back. “if it is getting worse should i call for a maester for you?” he said.

[harlonvflowers]

.

harlon did not wish to fight tonight. he didn’t want to fight any night with rhea. but he was exhausted today, he felt his temper already uneven from the stress of the past few days. he never wanted to say anything to hurt her to upset her, which is why he was just trying to sleep. hoping maybe tomorrow he would find himself to be more agreeable and speak with her then. but it seemed there was no way she was going to drop this tonight.

“of course i know you are a capable woman! seven hells rhea i married your. i love you, of course i know you are capable. but being capable doesnt mean that nothing can happen. you do not know if nothing would have happened rhea. you are meeting another spy. something could always happen! and i would have had no idea, none at all since you did not tell me!” he said trying to make her understand. he did not want to stop her from working, he never wanted that. never wanted to hold her back from what she wanted to achieve but there was more to think about now than just her. “you are my wife, you are the mother to our child. you need to tell me these things rhea, i need to know that you are safe.”

harlon watched the realization of what truly was bothering him hit her. he sighed, running his hand over his face. “some these lords out here already look down upon me. think i am still nothing but a bastard who shouldnt even be in the same room as them. i cannot afford to mess up. i cannot afford to look like i don’t have an understanding or control on things. i….i looked stupid and foolish. i needed you with me and you were not there.” he looked down, not wanting to look into her eyes right now. knowing if he did his anger would melt away quicker than her perhap wanted. “i know youre sorry rhea. i know…” he sighed, running his hands over his face.

Rhea's brow furrowed deeply when her husband simply suggested they slept. She actually scoffed —an unfortunate habit when in the middle of a discussion—, finding it hard to believe that Harlon had not only avoided her for the whole of the day but he also wished to avoid talking to her now. It was so unlike Harlon, which was what puzzled her so much. “Oh yes, I'd love to sleep. That is precisely why I'm addressing whatever the hells is going on here,” she gestured between them, “so we could simply sleep”.

And then Harlon finally spoke. The words flowed out of him quickly, like he'd been keeping them inside for hours and hours on end and was just now letting himself say what had been bothering him so much. “That's...?” The Mistress of Whispers shook her head, actually taken aback. “That's what's been bothering you?” the lady asked with some disbelief. “Harlon, I was doing my job. The job I've been doing for years,” Rhea stated, her Brightwater accent ringing more emphatically when more heightened emotions were laced together with her words. “Nothing happened to me, and nothing would've because I'm actually a capable woman, you know? I can take care of myself, I've done it all my life,” she stated plainly. Perhaps her husband wasn't doubting her skills, but it did feel that way to Rhea at that moment.

His last words froze her entirely, however. “Oh fuck. The meeting...” she murmured, closing her eyes shut. A hand went to her forehead for a moment, feeling the weight of this particular fuck-up. “Ifreann fuilteacha,” she said in a low tone, letting out a breath. Bloody hells. The Mistress of Whispers looked at her husband then, lips rolled. “I forgot about the meeting, Harlon. I'm sorry”. There was a pause, clear Florent eyes locking with his eyes of dark and honey. “I'm really sorry”.

[harlonvflowers]

.

eventually, the sounds of footsteps pulled harlon from his thoughts. he turned to see who it was, and quickly rose to his feet seeing his king walking towards him.

cedric. his brother. his true brother. their other one was buried somewhere they’d all like to forget. at least harlon certainly would. there had been no morning when news had reached him. the only thing he remembered feeling was wishing he had been there. wishing that cedric would have sought to allow him that satisfaction. but he had won in the end. for harlon was still standing and he had been finished at the end of a rope.

there was a part of him that wished to stay close to cedric as they did when they were younger. but so much had changed. not just with is ascension to being king. there was the need to keep a secret hidden. to not bring about any more suspicion than what had already been thrown at them. it seemed cruel that they would have to keep a distance right when they had finally learned the truth.

but harlon knew his part in the game, and he had been playing it well. ensuring again and again that there were no cracks in the lie. but it was times like this. times where it was just the two of them talking that made him miss his friend. it just meant he had to enjoy the moments like this that he got.

“he was more stubborn in the past few years then he ever was when we were younger.” he said, his brows furrowing for a moment as though he was thinking through everything in the blink of a moment. “no idea what had made him so…unlikeable in the past few years. gods thats a terrible thing to say.” he groaned running his hands over his face. but it was true. he had watched his friend destroy every friendship and connection and marriage he had over and over. was it always like this and he just never saw? it had to be. but then how was he so blind before?

“we will find her. there are not going to be many places she will go or even know where to go. the city has changed much since garland fucking locked her away.” he said, thinking through of who would she go to, what allies besides the septs would she still have. “of course, of course cedirc. i will send word right away to send some men there. i can spare some i am traveling with to start looking. set up some ones perhaps in more plain clothing to stay near the septs incase they need to intercept her first.” he said. “last thing we need is the high septon to dig his claws into something else around here.” 

harlon’s eyes glanced back at the seven pointed star. probably blastphomoy to speaking like this here. “no offense.” he muttered to the star hoping that might help before looking back to his brother. “how are you doing? with…everything. so much happening, with all of this mess.”

♠

"ensure it is known we leave as soon as we break fast in the morning." they would not leave at dawn, though there were some riders that went ahead; gael hightower specifically. cedric spoke to one of his stewards that accompanied him, unclasping his cloak from around his shoulders as they walked the dimly lit halls of the keep. "lord gael hightower has gone ahead of us." for he intended to get to oldtown at breakneck speed, considering time was slipping through his own fingers. the reach was a large place, meaning that regardless of how far she had gotten, it would not be long before she was brought back to oldtown. what would her penalty be? lord blackbar oversaw the implementation of the law; did context matter in this regard? should context matter?

the silhouette of the thorn king remained sat comfortably upon one of the steps within the sept, their journey still a number of days; it was a stop for no more than a single night whilst they replenished their supplies, fed the horses and maintained a night of sleep before they continued in what was the final push before they reached their own lands. technically they remained within the lands of the crownlands, soon crossing over briefly into lands that swore allegiance to the tully king; the sept within the noble's keep was a smaller one, one he would have walked directly by if the door were not open. his gaze flickered toward the sight of harlon within it, which in itself was enough to cause cedric's feet to slow - he remained a shadow in the hall for a moment, before deciding to make his way into the quiet place.

and then he sat, his arms resting comfortably upon his own legs as he looked toward harlon; the two were a close pair, garland often encouraging harlon's artistic endeavours despite the fact he were considered illegitimate in the eyes of the realm. most continued to consider him illegitimate in the eyes of the realm, and whilst cedric had begun to detach himself from the connection he had with the ruling lord some months earlier, harlon was another matter. he remained quiet for a moment, knowing that harlon would have heard someone else approach him within the sept: and yet cedric did not approach him.

he remained sat, looking upon his kneeling figure as it rose to his full height. cedric only offered him a slight smile, not mocking or taunting, but almost as though he himself did not have words for the matter. "little use in asking questions for those who wouldn't reply, even when they were alive." cedric responded; the words almost sounded amused. he did not know how to feel in the moment, though he knew he was not mournful. he was not even as angry as he had been in that moment, reading the news and his eyes meeting with gael hightower's instantly.

"finding her has to be our priority; the last thing we need is her getting into the hands of someone like the high septon. even if he remains in kings landing, his people remain in the starry. they'd need to offer her sanctuary, should she ask for it." how ridiculous religion was; would they need to find themselves coming to blows with the starry sept for the sake of getting alicent hightower? where else could she go? sneak onto some ship? gods no, considering sailors were known to be rough and uncouth. boats were no place for women, especially queens - grandmothers of kings. "it would be of great benefit should tarly men move into oldtown. there is no judging the hightower guards would not feel some pity for her."

[harlonvflowers]

.

“more and more as time went on stupidity seemed to be the only thing that he was doing.” it felt wrong still in many ways to speak ill of the dead. ill of someone who at one point was supposed to be his friend. but the years went on and harlon grew up and he thought that friendship would grow with them. but it seemed stuck in the past. stuck in a time when harlon was nothing but a bastard. nothing but the bastard friend.

was that all he was to garland hightower. just the bastard friend of his he could bring around. the one who he could make do whatever he wanted since he had the money. he was the one giving him a place to stay when his own father kicked him out. what could he say back to his friend? no? tell him off? no, harlon knew his place in that friendship growing up. but he was not that young bastard any more. he was a ruiling lord in his own way. he was a tarly. but the dynamic never changed. 

his eyes glanced over towards omer, he was happy he was here, even if he was sure omer was not here to pay his respects to garland. it was no secret of the tension between the two of them. at times harlon was surprised it did not end out in a full fight between the two given the attitude garland would careless throw at omer and lucrezia. even with all of that it was nice to know he choose to come sit by him. time had allowed the two goodbrothers to get closer, time that helped harlon to open his eyes more. omer was his family now and he trusted him like family. 

“fucking crazy idiot..” harlon muttered before realizing where they were sitting “shit, sorry. swearing.” he said with a slight laugh. part of this was comical. keeping his aunt locked away in a tower for years? what did he think was going to happen? that she would happily sit there a knit while he continued on with his life.” he sighed. “a hell of a mess he left for all of us to clean up.” he groaned, leaning forward to rub his head. damn, he needed a smoke.

They were journeying back to the Reach. News reached them of the death of Garland Hightower, murdered by the apparently living Alicent Hightower, and the death of his mother his wife's aunt. For that there was a pain for he knew his wife's grief would be doubled by this and he would do all he could to be there for her during this time. Omer himself felt no grief at the matter. Garland Hightower was a cunt and his mother was all but a stranger. He wasn't in the business of mourning cunts or strangers.

Omer would never grieve the man and yes, some could say he said the same of Mathis Rowan but there was difference. The matter with Mathis Rowan was wholly unspoken, the matter growing over letters after his "death" and dissolving upon the man's return for Omer found it easier to hate a ghost over acknowledging the loss of another friend no matter how far gone the friendship had become. This was not that. He and Garland Hightower were never friends. They were two people in the same social circle with mutual friends and dynamics that dictated a closeness for a brief time. Brief.

"Stupidity was his bread and butter, wasn't it?" He'd seen Harlon walk into the Sept and thought it wise to check in on him. Of all those who sat within the inner circle of the Reach, Omer Florent was certain he was the only person who wouldn't grieve and therefore could offer a shoulder to those who needed it.

The High Commander took a seat next to his goodbrother, leaning back in his seat and exhaled. He had the cunts daughter as well. And if he knew his wife, and he did, not only would they keep the baby she would fight all who argued against it. And he would support her for the baby only knew Lucrezia and she as the heir of Oldtown, the only place safer for Rosie Hightower than Brightwater was Highgarden.

"Auntie in the tower. The bards will sing for years."

[harlonvflowers]

location: a sept, on the journey back to the reach after the death of garland hightower open starter

harlon found himself entangled once again, near the everpresent dance with death. a partner that seemed to draw closer with each passing day. at times he wondered if he had grown numb to the the ceaseless presence of it looming around them all. he thought maybe with the war ending there would be no need to be on edge for the news of a friends death. of waiting each day to see which one of them didnt make it. the war was done they were supposed to be living in a time of peace. yet, here he was, standing beside the coffin that cradled the remains of his friend.

the journey back to the reach had been much like a funeral procession. it took time before they reached oldtown and all along harlon wondered if any of this was real. or maybe another trick by a man who apparently kept secrets even from his family. garland's casket was given sanctuary in the sept, sheltered for the night. harlon, seated in the hallowed silence of the sept, had lost track of time as his gaze remained fixed on the casket.

questions, bitter and unanswerable, echoed in his mind. why would he do this? why? it was stupid. it was fucking stupid keeping her locked away like that. as if she was not an explosion waiting to happen. and to keep it a secret?

grief and anger swirled within him, a tumultuous storm raging in his heart. over the preceding months, his resentment toward his friend had festered — the mistreatment of his brothers, the callous treatment of lucrezia, the inertia in critical moments. now, this clandestine decision had become the tipping point.

"why were you so fucking stupid?" the words slipped from his lips, unaware of someone else who had joined him

[harlonvflowers]

.

being a ruling lord was still new to harlon. being an artist was who harlon was at his core. at his very being. that never went away even as he took up his new position in life. he spent much of his time in his studio painting and sketching when he was not needed for other important duties. he did miss the days of getting to travel the countryside painting whatever he came across. but here he had a home, a real home. a wife and child who he loved more than anything in the world. he was no longer a young boy who could run off on some silly adventure.

however one benefit of staying in one place meant he could mentor those around him. gael had always been someone he had seen such potential in even as they grew up together. harlon spent more time than he would ever care to admit in the hightower household as his own father kicked him from horn hill months at a time. it was then he got to know gael more and as they grew older together a keen friendship based on artist expression began to blossom.

harlon felt like a proud older brother watching where he had grown to and the new title he now held. it felt like a honor to help him on this massive project for something so important.

“gael, save the formalities for the parties.” he laughed, bringing in the younger man for an embrace. a sense a familiarity between the two. there was no need for harlon to put on the air of a fancy lord around friends like this. “glad you made it here safely.” he smiled, clapping him on the back. “i am honored you asked me to help. i think you will make quite the impression with the new king and queen of whatever they are calling themselves these days.” he laughed. “now come with me to the studio, i had a few friends send some paintings over for you to look at. we can get the sense of what you are trying to display.”

Closed starter for @harlonvflowers Setting: After Queen Lenora writes to Gael Hightower for his collaboration in arranging an art exhibit for King Jaehaerys' coronation celebration, the Master of the Arts reaches out to Harlon Tarly in turn so the two Reach artists can collaborate.

Gael had been somewhat surprised to find correspondence from the Queen of New Valyria. The tension between Hightowers and Leffords continued to exist to this day given the indiscretions and slights of the past, but the Master of the Arts understood that as a queen, it was likely Lenora could not afford to uphold her family's resentments. And so, being invited to assist in the art exhibit the queen planned for her husband's coronation, Gael had agreed.

He was swift to write to Harlon Tarly afterward, recruiting the talent and artistic skill of a man Gael thought far surpassed him in creative genius. The painter had been a sort of guide and inspiration for him in his own artistic endeavors, as Harlon had unknowingly been a guiding force, leading him by example in the artist's life. And so after a few letters were exchanged on the matter, Gael had been graciously invited to Horn Hill.

“Harlon,” the young man greeted the other lord with a polite bow of his head, a subtle smile crossing his lips. “Thank you for inviting me to come. But most of all, thank you for agreeing to do this with me,” he added, his expression brightening. Getting to work with one of his artistic heroes was no small matter, after all.

[harlonvflowers]

Two Houses in Unity

In honor of the celebration of Arlo Florent, and as a sign of the strong unity between the houses, Harlon and Rhea Tarly have gifted House Florent 600 of their soldiers. These soldiers will now reside within the Florent lands to help keep the protection of the Brightwater people and further expand the already mighty army of House Florent.

@rhea-florent @omerflorent @lucreziasredwyne

[harlonvflowers]

location: brightwater keep, during a visit for the holiday season. set after the fight at the Hightower home.

@lucreziasredwyne

the echoes of his former bastard self lingered, a subtle residue that clung to him at unexpected moments. even when he wasn't aware, remnants of old habits crept in, remnants of a time when formality and the expectations of nobility were still learning to coexist with the bastard boy he once was.  harlon found himself relaxing himself when around his friends and his new family. the new him for what he was, what he had been when he was a boy. the kid who tagged along with everyone else. the young man who was told by his “father” he could not come home to hornhill right away after the summers and who was allowed to stay longer at the arbor. if it had been anyone else harlon might have shrunken away from embarrassment at being so rejected by his own “father” but not with lu and not with lady redwyne who made him feel welcomed and not a burden.

lu had been like a sister to him during those times. sometimes the most annoying little sister he could ever imagine but still a strange feeling of family he was not used to. and now somehow it felt like a miracle they had become actual family.

seated beside his goodsister, harlon flashed a comforting smile at her. "lucie, i have to admit, you seem... i don’t know, distracted? that doesn't seem like the right word, but it’s something." he observed, his eyes scanning her face for any signs of concern, adopting the role of an older brother, watchful and concerned for the well-being of his family. “what is going on?”

[harlonvflowers]

The Love Letter (1887) | Eugene de Blaas

[harlonvflowers]

.

on an exceptionally rare day, harlon found himself seething with an anger directed at his wife, rhea. though, like any normal couple, they had their share of squabbles, they typically found swift resolution. however, this particular disagreement burrowed into him, an unsettling emotion he wished to distance himself from. preferring not to confront rhea in the heat of his feelings, he opted to ignore her for a part of the day, and for the rest, simply avoid her—an imperfect strategy in hindsight.

the tension finally reached its boiling point as they prepared for sleep that night. harlon, aware of his wife's persistence, sighed deeply. "rhea, don't you just want to sleep?" he implored, recognizing that she wouldn't find rest until she extracted the answer she sought.

"i..." he hated this. hated how the anger simmered within him. "why did you go alone to meet up with one of your contacts yesterday? you went alone, and you didn't even tell me where you were, who you were meeting with. you just left," the words rushed out, a torrent of frustration. "what if something happened to you, rhea? i would have had no idea! none of us would have had any idea. you can't go running off to meet with a fucking spy without telling me." he told her. he never wished to be a man who told his wife what to do but there were limits. there were things even he needed to know about, or at least wanted to be in the loop about. “you left me completely alone yesterday when we were supposed to be meeting another lord and lady together.”

Closed starter for @harlonvflowers Setting: Horn Hill. Rhea has offended Harlon in some way but doesn't realize it.

She'd noticed something was somewhat off with her husband earlier in the day, but now that they'd had a private dinner in their quarters, which had been mostly silent —which was a rarity for them— Rhea was driving herself mad trying to figure out what had happened. It was nowhere near as bad as the curt and harsh treatment she received when the rare Northern illness took hold of him, but it was a strange demeanor she wasn't at all accustomed to.

“For gods' sake, Harlon. Put me out of my misery,” the Mistress of Whispers finally said after the couple headed for their bedchambers for the night. She stood before her husband, blocking his way to the closet where his nightclothes were. “What's gotten into you? You've barely talked all day”.

[harlonvflowers]

word had reached harlon that the pair had been spotted a local tavern along the road. the spies worked quick but not quickly enough for his liking. he wanted her home already. time was the enemy, each heartbeat a reminder of mina's precarious predicament. every moment she was alone with this man was another chance for something terrible to go wrong and another chance for others to find out what she had done

mere moments after he had gotten the news he was already on his horse riding towards the tavern. and it only took moments for the innkeeper to point out exactly which room the pair was hiding away in. there were some perks to being a ruling lord when people moved out of his way feeling the waves of pure anger coming off of him.

with an almost primal force, he propelled open the door, revealing the tableau within. there they stood, mina ensconced in the arms of her captor, a man who dared to feign protection for the very soul he'd stolen. harlon's eyes bore into the heart of the matter, softened by the recognition of mina's vulnerability, yet burning with hatred towards the merryweather.

harlon was insulted at the mere thought he may hurt his sister. he would never lay a hand on her no matter how angry he was with her. his eyes softened as he looked at his sister, gods knowing how stupid she was for this. but he would never do anything to her. he hoped she would forgive him for what he was about to do.

the fury returned to his eyes as he looked back towards merryweather. the man’s words meant nothing to him. he was nothing a no one who dared to speak to him in such a way “honesty? honesty? what manner of honesty does a man claim, who spirits away a lady in the dark hours to wed her without her guardian's consent? fucking hells, you are a man of no honesty!” in a second harlon grabbed the man by the collar hitting the first blow of many against him.

in an instant, harlon's hand seized the interloper's collar, delivering the first punishing blow amidst a tempest of strikes. harlon had spent much of his time in cities all across westerous. he had brawled with muggers in back alleys who tried to steal from him. he had skirmished against pirates and  cutthroats  at the dock who tried to take him as a crewmember. he fought in battles against the ironborn, cutting them down one by one. he had fought in the dance. he bore the scars of a man who didn't court violence, but did not step away from it when it came.  he wielded the blade with finesse and knew well the dance of tavern brawls. this was no time for mercy, and harlon was unyielding.

his blows rained down with unrelenting force, a relentless barrage upon the trespasser who had imperiled his sister's honor. there was no quarter given, no reprieve. halting his assault only briefly, he unleashed a torrent of accusation, fingers tightening around merryweather's throat, ready to throttle him for the truth. "did you lay hands on my sister? speak! have you defiled her maidenhood? by the gods, only they shall be your shield if you dare lie to me."

in that charged moment, harlon's fervor blazed, a tempestuous guardian battling to protect his sister's sanctity from the tempest that threatened to engulf her.

closed starter for @harlonvflowers location: an inn by the river mander

mina tarly gazed out the window, watching the bustling town square on which the inn they were staying in was located. they had the best room, though it was still cramped and dark, so unlike the accomodations she was used to keeping. it couldn't be helped. they could not be caught travelling in luxury, olyvar was always saying, and the money she had brought with them was not endless. there would be more when they reached longtable, when they explained everything to seffora and she welcomed them, as mina was certain she would.

they only had to out run her brother first. once they were married, and safe within merryweather lands, there would be nothing he could do, but until then, they remained in danger. they stayed nowhere long, passing from village to village, renting rooms, sleeping in barns, camping out beneath the stars. every day carried them further from horn hill and towards their future.

she knew that harlon would be furious at her for this, would see her as no more than a foolish, impulsive little girl, but she had more thoughts in her head than many gave her credit for. this had all been planned out, every little thing accounted for, from her escape from her guards to the way they’d press harlon and the king to legitimise olyvar. she would not have it said that she was being manipulated into this. olyvar was not some passing flirtation. he was the first man to ever see her and understand.

it was sat at that window, contemplating their imminent success that it all came crashing down. olyvar had caught her up in an embrace, by mina knew the look of tarly men from a mile away, and even the depth of his kisses could not prevent her from noticing her brother and his guards as they clattered through the square. she drew violently away from him, panic overcoming her.

“my brother,” she whispered, as olyvar looked her over with questioning eyes, and she saw the same fear come over his eyes. they were not yet close enough to longtable to claim seffora’s protection, nor were they wed, though they had certainly consummated their relationship.

there were raised voices in the inn below them. mina recognised harlon’s as the loudest among them, and clutched at olyvar, burying her face in his neck as though that would prevent everything from unravelling around them. he kissed her hairline, and they stood there, defenceless, waiting.

it was harlon alone who came through the door, doubtless wishing to keep mina’s so called shame as private an affair as possible. his face was writ with fury, and mina found all words of planned defiance catching in her throat, rendering her mute. the silence hung in the air for a long moment, before olyvar drew gently away from her, starting towards her brother.

“do as you please to me, but if you hurt a hair on her head, i’ll hunt you though the seven hells, you tyrell bastard. don’t pretend you’re any better than me. at least i still have my honesty,” olyvar declared, and with those words the last fragile structures of mina’s world collapsed.

[harlonvflowers]

honestly harlon wanted to be anywhere but the reach chambers right now. less of a chance to run into his father once again. he knew it would be coming soon enough. and the disappoint his father would share seeing him there. lord tarly did not wish for his bastard son to come along with him and flat out told him as they got ready to leave. lucky for him garland was quick to open a spot for harlon to join amongst the hightowers.

"oh please all i do is watch him leer at the maids in horn hill. i am sure he is going to be looking for some young wife. i will have a step mom younger than myself by the end of this trip i can guarantee it, i swear." he rolled his eyes taking another drink. it was embarrassing that everyone knew his father's behaviors and yet the other older lords just rolled along with it.

"gods only knows. not like he tells me about this shit." he said, finishing the first drink. "probably have some scheme they are cooking up. alaric joining them or is he off somewhere too?"

harlonvflowers​:

flashback location: a loud and bustling tavern near the residences where the parties of the reach are staying, late evening

the crowd within the tavern was full of life. everyone talking, drinking and listening to the music of a bard in the corner. seemed like everyone was in the mood for a celebration given everything happening around them. it felt nice being around people like him, harlon thought. moving through the crowd, he held four tankards in his hands. two for him and two for cedric, he had no idea where the rest of the crew had run off to.

“cheers” he laughed, holding up one of the tankards taking a sip. luckily even within the crowded tavern, they had managed to find a table towards the back allowing them some privacy. after a moment harlon took another sip as he looked over at ced. “i saw him today you know. he’s with all the other fucking lords. pretended like he didn’t even see me, the dickhead.” there was no need to explain who harlon meant, he knew cedric would understand that he meant lord tarly. the words didn’t seem to be spoken

.

He did not like this tavern, were his main thoughts as they sat upon the bar: or rather, he was not entirely fond of the types of folk that seemed to be within it. They all carried the stench of people that worked within Kings Landing, and Cedric found no urge to pretend as though either of them would ever be caught in such a location in the Reach: even Oldtown's taverns were far more better than these establishments of Kings Landing.

At one point in the night he even double checked to ensure they were not in a brothel, for Cedric Tyrell would never pay for such things. He did not need to pay. "Cheers indeed." Cedric almost scoffed, downing his drink within the heavy jug: he much preferred the wine of the Reach. He much preferred drinking in their own chambers, and had little urge to paint the town red. At least they were sat the back.

But Harlon wanted to experience the taverns of Kings Landing, and he had agreed to join him: after all, this was better than being forced to remain in the same chamber as his father. Listening to Lord Hector Tyrell's consistent badgering, it was enough to make him want to burn his ears off: Cedric had been there for the beginning of the night, until a page came in to announce the arrival of Lord Tarly, coming to see the Lord of Highgarden.

"Consider it a good thing - you don't need to sit there and watch him leer over women young enough to be his daughter."

Cedric took the opportunity to walk out of the rooms, knowing his father saw him leave: and yet, he would not shout. He never wanted to make it obvious he had lost control of his second son. "He came to see the Lord himself." The Lord himself - it were the scathing words he used to describe his father. His father who had truly only begun to plant the seeds he would reap in the coming years. "Any idea what that'll be about?"

[harlonvflowers]

flashback location: a loud and bustling tavern near the residences where the parties of the reach are staying, late evening

the crowd within the tavern was full of life. everyone talking, drinking and listening to the music of a bard in the corner. seemed like everyone was in the mood for a celebration given everything happening around them. it felt nice being around people like him, harlon thought. moving through the crowd, he held four tankards in his hands. two for him and two for cedric, he had no idea where the rest of the crew had run off to.

"cheers" he laughed, holding up one of the tankards taking a sip. luckily even within the crowded tavern, they had managed to find a table towards the back allowing them some privacy. after a moment harlon took another sip as he looked over at ced. "i saw him today you know. he's with all the other fucking lords. pretended like he didn't even see me, the dickhead." there was no need to explain who harlon meant, he knew cedric would understand that he meant lord tarly. the words didn't seem to be spoken