#oc: elayna reyne | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

queen--kenobi · 3 months ago

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Wheel of Fortune: The Fool (Emperor, Upright)

Story summary: Elayna Reyne often imagines herself being someone and making a name for herself but only in the way young girls do. Unfortunately, when Elayna makes her way to King's Landing as one of Cerelle Lannister's ladies-in-waiting, Elayna finds dreams come with a price. Chapter summary: The Lannisters and Reynes arrive at King's Landing. Tyland begins the process of sorting and accounting for changes they may cause. Word count: ~6.5k Author's note: I want to thank @writingbylee and @baba-fett because y'all are always some of my biggest cheerleaders. I also want to think @emilykaldwen and @ewanmitchellcrumbs for letting me borrow Abby and Lia respectively. It means so much that y'all trust me with your OCs!!! Masterlist , Previous chapter

My good brother,

I apologize for my lack of letters as of late. Cerelle and Tymon's eight and tenth nameday is almost a moon away, and much preparation is to be done, both for the festivities and for their futures.

Both their father and I agree it is time both come to the Red Keep. We have ensured a place for Cerelle as one of Princess Helaena's ladies-in-waiting. Tymon shan't be staying as long. I bring him merely so he may begin to make more thorough connections. It will be good for both of them, and I trust both of them to take initiative.

I have a favor to ask of you. It is a large ask, but I fear no one else can help me. I would not mention this if it weren't important.

Tymon has taken an interest in Alon's daughter, Elayna. Despite multiple conversations, he cannot be deterred. He is determined to marry her. While the marriage is advantageous on paper, a union between Tymon and Elayna is ill advised. Most marriages learn to work towards a common good. I cannot see the two of them achieving a point of equanimity.

My son is headstrong, as I'm sure you have picked up on from my letters. Normally, this attribute is beneficial, but it isn't in this particular instance. This is where I must ask a favor from you. Tymon will not respect most men. Due to you being blood, Tymon will respect you marrying Elayna should you do so.

Alon shall join us on the trip to King's Landing, and he can speak with you more about this idea. We have conversed about it so this will not come as a surprise to him. Don't take this to mean I do not care for Elayna; I see much potential in her. I have done all I can for her, but the refinement she is in need of is not something I am equipped to deal with. You are in a much better position to do so.

It is an advantageous match. It may help open some of the few doors still closed to you. It would also help alleviate the rumors swirling as to why you have yet to marry. Ordinarily, I don't grant rumors and whispers my attention, but they have turned nasty as of late.

We shall leave in two moons time, not too long after the festivities. It shall be nice to see you again. Your presence is missed here.

Your friend,

Johanna

Tyland reads over the letter once again. The letter is nearly 3 moons old, and he keeps other, more recent, correspondence from her since then, but the contents of this one interest him still. Johanna’s preference for not sugar coating the truth behooves, and occasionally amuses, him. He places it back on his desk and pads over to his study window. The carriages should be there within the next several hours. This shall not be the last time he checks; he is inexorably drawn to the window, waiting and watching, eagerly awaiting Johanna’s arrival.

Tyland no longer feels strange when he sees her. In the early years after they ended their illicit relationship, he might attribute the joy as ungentlemanly eagerness, despite him being the one to break it off. Now, his joy stems from seeing an old friend. Truth be told, Tyland almost prefers her friendship to their scandalous affair. Hiding it still makes him sick with anxiety and worry, the fear of being found out never going away entirely. Distance doesn't always doom love, but it certainly destroys affairs.

In the late hours of the night, Tyland catches himself wondering if Cerelle and Tymon might be his. The others are not, he knows this for a fact. No proof exists, but the thought sticks in his mind.

Tyland sighs. He shakes his head in an attempt to clear it, banish all distractions. He drums his fingers on the windowsill. Johanna rarely asks much of him yet this request sours in his mouth. Perhaps it is the acknowledgement of the rumors as to why he hasn't married yet. Even now, despite everything he has achieved, people gossip about him. The longer he waits, the more people question why. None are so bold as to say directly what they think, but he hears the term “bachelor” thrown around in hushed whispers.

Tyland runs his hands over his face. He should at least get to know Elayna, he supposes. It wouldn't hurt. He looks out his study window once more, pursing his lips together. If he is entirely honest with himself, which he does try to practice given most of Jason's flaws stem from a lack of self-awareness, Tyland hesitates at the idea of giving up his current life. While the constant barrage of letters irritate him, he enjoys the freedom he has. He inhales and slowly exhales.

“I shall give it a chance.” Tyland murmurs.

It would be an advantageous match, both for his family and for himself. Jason's hubris and inattentive nature endangers them; taking advantage of Jason's foibles would be easy if it weren't for Johanna. Marrying the only Reyne daughter strengthens the bonds and takes away any incentive of undermining or rebellion. It also strengthen his position, incentives forward movement, perhaps towards Master of Coins.

Tyland nods.

It isn't a terrible idea. He can't truly judge how good of an idea it is until he meets Elayna, but on paper, it is a fairly solid suggestion, certainly one he'll take under advisement.

********************************************

Tyland stands in the courtyard. The arrival of the Lannisters and Reynes causes buzz, and more people stand with the greeting party than he expects. Despite it not being for him and his family, pride creeps through him and settles in his chest. Abrogail and Larys Strong stand amongst the crowd, which is expected given their uncle and niece are arriving. Queen Alicent and Otto stand among them, again not a surprise due to Otto's first wife being a Reyne as well. Truly, more people stand in attendance than Tyland expects, and the sight raises his spirits significantly.

Tyland rolls Johanna’s suggestion around in his head as he notes who stands in the courtyard and on the steps, each person's ties and allegiance a number in the equation. He slides them as he would beads on an abacus. Later, he shall sort everyone and figure out specifics, but for now, all he needs is numbers.

“I imagine you are excited to see your nephew and nieces.” Otto's voice almost makes Tyland start.

“I am.” Tyland smiles. “I haven't seen them in quite some time.”

Otto nods. He interlaces his fingers behind his back. Tyland watches him, keeping his best blandly happy expression on his face. He doubts Otto suspects anything, and he will not give him a reason.

“I do wish my brother was able to make the journey.” Tyland offers as a way of distraction. It isn't as if he is lying either, he does wish Jason could be here, even if he would be irritated with him before the end of the week.

“It is one of my few regrets I was not able to see my brother and nephews more. Yet I wouldn't change it. The Realm comes first.”

“A sacrifice made in name of the Realm is a worthy one.”

Otto lets out a low noise of agreement. He studies Tyland for a second, gaze cool and appraising, but Tyland stays steadfast. Information is knowledge, and Tyland gleans what he can from watching interactions. Otto's appraisals tend to be favorable when the subject doesn't back down or flinch.

“I'm heartened to see Lia joining us.”

Tyland means what he says, but it is also a self-serving statement. Changing the conversation gives Tyland a chance to breathe, releasing him from Otto's scrutiny for a moment. Few see Tyland for who he truly is. If Otto pays too much attention, he may get a peek behind the carefully crafted façade, which is not exactly what Tyland wants.

Otto doesn't need to know the full extent of Tyland’s ambitions. He doesn't need to know if things go according to plan, Tyland sees himself as Hand within the next decade, perhaps within the next five years if he plays his cards right. Otto is crafty, he surely expects Tyland desires more than Masters of Ships. However, if he sees Tyland as a threat, Tyland will gain no traction.

Better to let Otto think he aims for Master of Coins, a more than respectable position.

“Yes.” Otto turns his head. As he looks at his wife, Tyland swears Otto's jaw softens the slightest amount. He turns his attention back towards the gate. “My understanding is Alon has done much to keep the peace and ease tensions.”

Oh. Tyland tries not to blink. Tensions between the deceased wife's family and the new wife isn't a new issue, he supposes. Alon reaching out shifts dynamics, and if he reaches out to one, he surely reaches out to more. Alon may be in many people's good graces.

A bead on the abacus slides.

Thank the Seven Tyland makes time for people. He fears it may not be enough some days, given how much damage control he must do when Jason comes around, but anything helps. He loathes it, but in his sleepless moments, Tyland wishes he had been given the gift of gab. Not because he likes talking, precisely the opposite; he wishes it came easier to him because it feels so difficult and even tedious, depending on the person.

“Alon is a good man.” Tyland pauses. Oddly enough, he remembers Alon being the one to give him the idea. Not directly, of course, but Alon put the idea in Tyland’s head as an offhanded comment. With his new knowledge of Alon reaching out to Lia, Tyland wonders if it was on purpose.

He could offer the tidbit now, a fact about him that may cause Otto to look at him in a better light, but before he can, a crier catches everyone's attention. The carriages are close. Everyone in the courtyard turns towards the portcullis and gate, the chatter easing into whispers. People shuffle about the area, and Tyland moves instinctively with them as everyone shifts into their respective places. No one moves too far, they more move outward and away from clusters.

The wheelhouses roll in, the Lannister's first and the Reynes following. Tyland watches the wheelhouse eagerly. The closer he gets to seeing his family, the more his body almost vibrates. While he came here with a purpose all those years ago, he still misses his family, even Jason on occasion. He cannot say he misses everyone from Casterly Rock; a good portion of why he left is because of the people. Jason being named heir over him still stings on occasion, and the treatment after absolutely hurts. He consoles himself with his position now, but some damages cannot be undone.

Johanna exits the wheelhouse first. She looks much the same as Tyland remembers, the only sign of the years passing the wrinkles on her face. Tymon and Cerelle both stand taller than Tyland expects. He accounts for some growth, given it'd been several years since he's last laid eyes upon them, but he didn't prepare himself enough. Tymon stands almost as tall as Jason. In stature, he looks much like his father, but his eyes and facial features are more Johanna’s. Cerelle appears much the same as Tymon. Yet as Tyland looks at them, the difference between the two couldn't be plainer.

It's in their eyes.

Both exit with the appropriate amount of decorum. Both behave exactly as they should. Yet Tymon almost smirks as he observes the crowd, his eyes lighting in an almost cruel way, a shark surveying for his next meal. By contrast, Cerelle's cool appraisal, while still an assessment, comes off as more intrigued than anything else. She surveys everyone with an air of excitement. When her eyes land on Tyland, Cerelle smiles. She smiles at him exactly the way she did when she was a young girl, eagerly greeting him and plying him with questions about King's Landing. Tyland smiles softly back.

Otto and Alicent greet Johanna first. Tyland stands back and awaits his turn, content on observing for now. While speaking with Johanna is one of his priorities, it isn't as if another opportunity won't present itself. Besides, if his nearly 20 years of being at court has taught him anything, appearing too eager to speak with someone will not only raise eyebrows but also invite unwanted eavesdroppers when the important conversion occurs.

When Johanna turns away from Otto and Alicent and towards him, Tyland takes his cue. He steps forward.

“Johanna.”

“Tyland.” Johanna’s tone warms up when she addresses him. They step towards each other but remain the appropriate distance apart, although the distance is still much closer than Johanna stands to most. “It is good to see you.”

“ ‘Tis good to see you as well. It has been far too long.”

“Uncle.” Tymon steps forward, hands clasped behind his back. “You look well.”

Were Tyland a fool, he might believe Tymon's words. Unfortunately for Tymon, Tyland was not born yesterday. While Tymon's tone is convincing, he nearly looks through Tyland. Tyland suspects he only doesn't because he is kin.

“Tymon. As do you. You are much taller than I remember.”

Irritation flashes briefly through Tymon's eyes, not true anger but the aggravation of talking with a doddering relative. It hurts for a second, but Tyland pushes past it. While it does sting, being seen as old is to his advantage; Tymon will stay out of his way if he perceives Tyland as useless. Guilt briefly washes over Tyland. Assuming the worst of family isn't a good look.

“Uncle!” Cerelle nearly chirps. She sounds genuine in her greeting unlike her brother. Out of the pair, Cerelle holds a soft spot in Tyland’s heart. He suspects she exploits it on occasion, as young adult are wont to do, but he doesn't mind as much as he should. Cerelle at least has the decency to treat him as family, no matter how long it's been since he's last seen them.

“Cerelle. ‘Tis good to see you. Your mother told me you have good news?”

“I do. ‘Tis very exciting news.” Cerelle nearly beams. Tymon's upper lip twitches.

“We both have exciting news.” Tymon corrects Cerelle.

“And I am at liberty to discuss mine.” Cerelle's matter of fact tone nearly makes Tyland raise an eyebrow. He looks at Johanna out of the corner of his eyes, wondering the exact nature of Tymon's news. Johanna’s displeasure is brief but strong. Tymon must catch it for he smiles, stiff but a smile nonetheless.

“Forgive me. Your news is more pertinent.”

Interesting. Tymon sounds surprisingly sincere, which feels at odds with the knowledge his apology isn't of his own volition. Still, Tyland zeroes in on the slight smirk, a brief twitch of Tymon's lips betraying him.

Perhaps it's best Tymon sees him as useless and aging.

The footman announces the beginning of the Reynes leaving their wheelhouse. Cerelle and Tymon slot themselves neatly beside Johanna and Tyland.

Tyland finds himself waiting with almost baited breath. However long it has been since he's seen his family, it's been much longer since he's seen Lord Reyne. Rumors swirl about Alon's health. Normally, Tyland pays them no heed, but given he has the opportunity to find out for himself, he is a little curious.

Alon demounts.

The rumors clearly come from how Alon looks. Alon stands much taller than most normally, but he almost seems shorter today. Tyland almost raises an eyebrow when he sees Alon with a cane. A quick glance over at Johanna confirms Tyland isn't seeing things; Johanna turns her head at the same time Tyland does and nods when Tyland does lift an eyebrow. She doesn't mouth anything yet her look conveys it all. Johanna shall tell him about it when she gets the chance. Tyland turns his attention back to the wheelhouse.

Hopefully all isn't as it seems. Alon sits at nearly 30 years of ruling Castamere, longer than many live. His death portends changes, no doubt massive ones. Tyland glances over at Otto. Of course, when those changes happen, Tyland will be questioned. He purses his lips together. He must speak with Alon anyway. It might be prudent to go out of his way to befriend Alon. Certainly, he doesn't think it would hurt.

Elayna is next to exit the wheelhouse. When Elayna descends, Tyland’s gaze focuses on her. A quiet feeling builds within his gut. Without speaking a word to her, Tyland instinctively knows Elayna would ruin him were he a younger man. She's gorgeous, and the way she carries herself makes it clear she is aware of this fact. Watching her brings memories of the women his age at Casterly Rock, the ones who marry early because many sought them out.

She surveys the crowd with an air of nervousness and excitement in equal measure, but Tyland sees a quiet coldness lurking beneath the surface. It's in her eyes. They're wide with awe yet it isn't fixed. When her eyes move from person to person, the awe and apprehension slip, not overt enough most would notice but enough Tyland notes it. The look is no longer alarming but almost familiar, stirring a sense of recognition within him.

Elayna counts. Elayna counts like him.

Elayna sits with her own abacus, pulling the people along the track into where she thinks they belong. Obviously, others do the same. Sitting on the Small Council gives Tyland a perfect view of how many people scheme and plot here, but they move people differently than him. Tyland stares at Elayna for a moment, waiting for the expression to return. Words aren't his speciality, numbers are, meaning he couldn't explain why he recognizes she moves people like him, at least on the initial step. Yet he feels it within his bones and chest, sensation spreading from his heart and disseminating outward, she's like him.

Still, the worry from earlier gnaws at him, tempering his elation. Her counting is merely the first step, how she sorts and what she does are two different steps entirely. As surely as he recognizes Elayna is like him, he also sees the differences begin. Being wanted by others sets them apart. Tyland hears of it happening every year, how young men and women who are desired become different once they realize the hold they have over others.

“Don't let her smile fool you.” Tymon's voice nearly makes Tyland jump. He realizes, rather belated, he was staring at Elayna. Tyland turns his head. Tymon keeps his gaze forward. “She may seem friendly, but I assure you, she is not.”

“Oh?” Tyland arches an eyebrow.

“Yes. I made the mistake of befriending Elayna before I truly got to know her, and while Lord Reyne is content with his position, his daughter strives for more. If you understand my meaning.” Tymon sniffs. “I don't like using the word ambitious towards women because it seems... ugly.”

It seems Johanna wasn't exaggerating in her letter. Tyland merely nods.

“I see.”

What can he say to such a statement? Tymon presses his lips together. He stares at Alon and Elayna, watching intently as both Queen Alicent and Otto greet them. Tymon exhales after a long minute. His fingers flex against his sides.

“Cerelle will corroborate.”

Of course Tyland gazes at Cerelle, intent on gauging her reaction. Much to his surprise, Cerelle looks at Elayna with a strangely wistful expression, one Tyland is intimately acquainted with. Cerelle clears her throat.

“Perhaps we should speak with others. I don't wish to monopolize your time, Uncle.” Cerelle's mask falls perfectly into place, an excited young girl once more. Tyland turns towards Johanna.

“Shall we have supper together? Tomorrow night?”

Tyland offers not only out of politeness but also curiosity. It gives him an excuse to pry and find out more, unearth the history clearly at play here. Besides, Johanna will no doubt want to speak with him as soon as possible. Johanna dips her head.

“Yes. That would be nice.”

The three of them move towards the next group. Tyland presses his lips together. Already, he must exchange his abacus for a more useful instrument. These new pieces of information cannot be slid, he must analyze them.

The sound of a cane on stone makes him turn. Alon and Elayna approach him, Ryman lingering behind them.

“Ser Tyland. It has been quite some time.”

“Lord Reyne. It has indeed.”

“This is my daughter, Elayna.” Alon gestures to Elayna. Elayna curtsies. Tyland dips his head in response. When she stands once more, their eyes meet. Tyland waits with baited breath for a sign, an indication, she recognizes they are alike in some manner. The hope is juvenile, a fleeting and foolish emotion, but it burns within him.

He sees it. Tyland’s eyes catch hers as she appraises him. Her eyes widen, guilt crossing her face. Tyland smiles, not for politeness sake but to ease her worries. Elayna blinks. He almost sees her breath catch in her throat and then release, shoulders dropping a fraction. The recognition creeps into her hazel eyes. Tyland’s heart speeds up.

“It is an honor to meet you. Lady Johanna speaks very highly of you.”

Elayna's voice is lower pitched than he expects but not unpleasantly so. Quite the opposite, in fact. Much to his surprise, he hears more of a Castamere accent than a Casterly Rock one, and it sends a small bit of warmth through his body.

“I'm heartened to hear that.” Tyland murmurs. “She has spoke of you to me as well. She says you've been an excellent friend to my niece.”

Elayna positively beams at his words. A strange ache forms within Tyland’s chest at the sight and blooms outward, filling him with a pleasant, almost buzzing, sensation. The corners of his lips lift, curling into a small smile in response.

"You flatter me.” Elayna tucks a stray strand of hair back into her braid. She looks at him from beneath her eyelashes for the briefest of seconds.

“I speak the truth.”

Elayna grins. She ducks her head in an attempt to hide it. Alon gently clears his throat. The throat clear is meant for Elayna, and she straightens up at it. Still, her smile remains. It sends blossoming warmth through his entire body. Alon steps forward.

“When you have the chance, I should like to catch up more fully with you.” Alon keeps his voice low. Elayna stays back a pace, but her head turns towards her father, clearly wanting to know what he's saying. Tyland nods.

“Of course. If your travels were not too strenuous, perhaps we can do so this afternoon?” Johanna’s letter tells him what she wants from him but Alon's intent remains a mystery. This piece of information means he can better approach what Johanna asks of him.

“That sounds excellent to me.” Alon nods, lifting his cane slightly and rapping it on the ground. “Perhaps we can meet while the girls settle in? It will take me less time to get comfortable.”

“I have some work I must do, but once it is done, I shall let you know.”

“Excellent.” Alon steps back. “I shall see you later today then.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Ser Tyland.” Elayna curtsies.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Elayna's eyes light up with delight, her cheeks turning slightly pink. Pride surges through Tyland. Her reaction is genuine, and the realization makes his head spin slightly. Jason gets those sorts of reactions, never him. Alon begins walking, and Elayna dutifully follows, keeping close to his elbow.

A squeal of delight interrupts his reverie. He turns. Elayna steps away from Alon as Abrogail runs towards her. The cousins meet in the middle, both of them eagerly clasping the other's forearm. They chatter excitedly. Alon shakes his head, but even from behind, Tyland senses it's a fond head shake. He turns his attention towards the cousins.

He studies them closely. Abrogail and Prince Aegon are close, close enough people talk. He suspects within the next two or three years, the idea of marriage between the two will surface. Even if it doesn't, it's obvious Abby will always have Aegon's ear, whether she is aware of it or not.

If Elayna and Abby remain close, then Elayna may have an indirect line to Aegon. While Viserys still lives, Rhaenyra sits as heir, but all her legitimacy dies in the eyes of the Small Council when Viserys does. None of them speak it outright yet moves are made every day for this inevitability. A line to the future King would never hurt. Certainly, it would aid Tyland’s ten year plan.

Another bead slides.

********************************************

His brief conversation with Elayna lingers in his mind as he goes about his duties the rest of the day.

Several fruitless hours pass.

Tyland stares at the ledger in front of him. Ordinarily, he distracts himself after an important conversation, finding he gains more after he gives himself time. Reviewing a conversation too soon leads to obsessing over what was said and unsaid, which, ironically, means he misses the key points because he bogs himself down in the minutiae. Yet he cannot think of anything else. All he pictures is Elayna's smile.

Maybe this is beneficial. Meeting her does change how he views Johanna’s letter. He is only a man; bright eyes, a pretty smile, and sincere flattery do work wonders. However, as much as he is taken with Elayna's appearance, and he is taken he cannot deny it, he keeps the warnings in mind as well. More accurately, Tyland reminds himself of Johanna’s words, not Tymon's.

Tymon may be blood, but blood doesn't guarantee brains. Tymon's youth also factors in Tyland’s opinions. Tymon is barely ten and eight, what can he possibly know? Tyland isn't entirely unsympathetic, truly. He remembers what it was like when he came to King's Landing, only ten and nine, a year older than Tymon. Tyland winces softly as a particularly embarrassing memory comes forward.

Tyland sighs. After a second, he caves to his desires and rubs small circles on his temple, even though it won't alleviate the pressure. Of course, it cannot be simple. Nothing directly involving him ever can be, despite his best efforts. He rests his hands on the table in front of him, careful of the ink in the ledger. After a moment, he exhales and looks towards the ceiling.

No answers come. No divine inspiration strikes. No help in any shape arrives. Tyland closes his eyes. Once again, he must come up with his own solutions and deliver himself.

Speaking with Alon is a start. Tyland opens his eyes, nodding softly. All he needs is a starting place. While he loathes not having a concrete plan of action, it makes him quite literally itch on occasion, he doesn't have enough information for a plan. He needs cursory research, and meeting with Alon provides it.

Tyland gathers himself. At supper, he shall glean more information, learn what he can. A single stray tidbit may aid his cause and center him, give him direction and purpose. The meeting with Alon will be of tremendous help; knowing Alon's plan will, at the very least, give him a bargain chip.

Tyland stands up, closing the ledger. Surely Alon is settled by now. He could wait, he supposes, but the thought doesn't sit right within him.

The walk to Alon's apartments doesn't take him as long as he expects. Alon’s position gives him a more than decent apartment, so Tyland doesn't have far to travel.

Alon greets him cordially. He stands without aid but stays close to the wall. Weariness clings to him like a coat. Without the pressure of presentations and greeting, Alon relaxes. Tyland notes the bags under Alon's eyes and the slight discomfort and stiffness in his posture.

“Ser Tyland.”

“Lord Reyne. I hope I'm not disturbing you.” Tyland pauses. “If you are not quite settled in yet, I don't mind speaking at a later time. We do not have to make time now.”

He does mind. Alon’s condition is the reason he offers. Alon shakes his head almost vehemently.

“Nonsense. I will always make time for those from home. Certainly, I shall make time for an esteemed member of the Small Council.” He steps aside, and Tyland enters.

“How are you finding things here? Are they as you remember when you were younger?”

Alon shakes his head, letting out a soft laugh.

“Things are quite... different. I don't recall the Faith of the Seven having as much hold, but. My memory may be failing me in my old age.” Alon keeps his face impassive and schooled, but a slight glimmer in his eyes betrays him. Tyland lowers his head and presses his lips together in a bid to keep his expression neutral.

“My memory must be failing me as well then.”

A hiccup of a laugh escapes Alon, lips twitching. He presses them together. The barely suppressed grin betrays him trying not to laugh. After a moment, he clears his throat. Warm civility falls naturally into place.

“Prithee, come in. Have a seat.” Alon gestures towards the main room of the apartment. Tyland steps forward and further into the space. Despite it being early in Alon's stay, Tyland glances around the area. Living spaces often tell much about a person. A book case catches his attention. It stands mostly empty except for several books on the top shelf. They're old and worn, not doubt memorized from how many times they've been read.

“ ‘Tis actually fortuitous you came by. I was about to come speak with you myself.” Tyland turns his attention back to Alon. Alon gestures towards one of the highball chairs. Tyland takes a seat, Alon following and sitting in the chair across from him.

“Yes. I am sorry about the delay. Several matters were more complicated than I thought initially.”

“I figured as much. As Master of Ships, you must be busy.”

Tyland nearly preens at the mention of his title. He is but a man, and while he pretends otherwise, flattery and recognition of his status do grease the wheels. He clears his throat and sits up a little straighter.

“You said you wished to speak with me?” Tyland settles his hands in his lap.

“I did.” Alon dips his head. “ ‘Tis about my daughter.”

“I see. Johanna said you might wish to speak about Elayna.”

“Did she now?” Alon raises an eyebrow. Tyland tries his best not to swallow or stumble.

“Nothing bad. She merely suggested it. She seems to think I might be of use. I actually wanted to speak with you myself about it so I may know more.” Tyland watches Alon carefully. “She did not elaborate much on the issue. Out of deference to you, I assume.”

“Johanna is very proactive. I do wish she had informed me she was writing you. To answer your question, we both wanted to talk to you about Elayna's future.” Alon stops. He presses his lips together as he carefully selects his next sentence. “I need someone to watch Elayna while she is here. Someone who will keep her on the right path.”

Alon opens his mouth and then stops. A brief look of concern crosses his face before a loud, harsh cough escapes him. The sound comes from deep within his throat, and Tyland leans forward, ready to call a Maester at any moment. Alon manages to reach for his drink with unsteady hands. As he does, his sleeve falls down his arm some, revealing dark and angry bruises. Tyland’s eyes flick from the bruising to Alon's face. Alon drinks deeply and greedily before setting down his goblet. When Alon lowers the goblet, Tyland catches the smell of the concoction, heart dropping some at the implications. The look must show on his face for Alon sighs.

“I bruise rather easily these days. ‘Tis no one's fault but my own.”

“You should have the maesters take a look at them.” Tyland frowns. Alon waves him away.

“The maesters have more important people to attend to.” Despite Tyland’s position, the authority in Alon's voice keeps his mouth shut. Tyland leans back in the chair. Alon coughs once more, this one not as violent. He clears his throat after, the look of irritation on his face one Tyland understands.

"I know it is a lot to ask. But I would not ask if it wasn't important.” Alon's voice comes out strained. Tyland leans forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs.

"Your illness has progressed, hasn't it?"

Between the strong herbal stench coming from Alon's drink and the loss of vitality, Tyland feels confident in what the answer will be. Alon’s frail state all but confirms his suspicions. Still, he needs to hear it from Alon. Alon presses his lips together. He looks away for a moment before letting out a sigh.

"The maesters say I will be lucky if I see next summer." He scoffs. "They know much, but I know my body and my will better than them. I have two more winters in me." He turns his attention back to Tyland. "Two winters isn't as much as I would like. I need to ensure Elayna's security before then. You're the only one I trust to treat her properly.”

Tyland blinks. He pauses and then clears his throat. As Alon's only daughter, Alon is always fiercely protective of Elayna. Pride swells within him but doesn't go far as his brain recalls Johanna’s letter. Alon isn't putting forth a betrothal but mentorship.

“If it is truly so much of a-”

“No!” Tyland pauses. “No, I mean. Yes. Yes, I will watch her, it would not be a burden. I merely...” Tyland stops. He tries collecting his words. Alon raises an eyebrow in vague amusement. “Why ask me? Would it not make more sense to betroth her to someone and have them ensure her safety?”

Alon dips his head. He presses his lips together and drums his fingers on his lap for a second. Eventually, he gathers the correct words.

“ ‘Tis hard to explain to someone without children, but. No matter how well you treat them and try to do what's best for them. Occasionally, instead of doing right by them, you wrong them. I fear I err'ed in my judgement. It was what was best at the time yet I don't find solace in that knowledge. I... I do not wish for Elayna's last memories of me to be me doing wrong by her again.”

Alon's voice cracks, tears welling up in his eyes. A surge of panic briefly overtakes Tyland. Should he... does he comfort Alon or avert his eyes and pretend he never saw? Alon sighs. He closes his eyes, and when he reopens them, clears his throat. Full dignity and determination return to his voice, an even keel once more.

“She is prideful and stubborn, which means finding her a lord husband is no easy task. Too many men see a difficult woman and see something either to be tamed or broken. My daughter will not receive the same treatment as an errant horse. I also know if she doesn't want to do something, she will make it quite difficult.” He lets out a dry laugh. “She comes by it honestly. Her sin is my sin. It must be her decision, or at least appear to be her decision.”

Alon fixes Tyland with a look piercing into Tyland’s very soul. His green eyes see through Tyland's physical body and into his character. Instead of shrinking back, Tyland meets him evenly. He keeps his gaze on Alon's, unblinking. Whatever Alon seeks, he shall not find it in a man who shrinks before him; Tyland shall meet Alon where he stands. Alon nods and blinks once, the silent and wordless approval sending a rush of pride and euphoria through Tyland.

“I know we haven't spoken in many years, but you would not be where you are if you weren't patient and reasonable. Elayna needs a guiding hand. I trust you. I trust you to keep her even keeled, and I trust you to give her sound advice. I don't want someone with their own ambitions clouding her judgement. She has enough of them on her own.”

This time, Tyland allows himself to preen. His chest puffs out slightly, and he lifts his head a little higher. His spine softly cracks as he sits up a little straighter.

“I appreciate your words.” He murmurs, attempting to downplay his reaction. Alon’s eyes sparkle.

“I speak only the truth.”

Tyland clears his throat. Alon’s praise feels genuine, and for once in his life, Tyland isn't sure what to do. He falls back onto the tried and true scripts.

“I am honored you asked me. I shall ensure Elayna makes the best decisions.”

“Excellent.” Alon smiles. It's a genuine smile, full of warmth and appreciation. “It should not be too difficult. I also asked Lia to keep an eye on Elayna as well for when Johanna returns to Casterly Rock.”

Tyland leans forward despite himself. He arches an eyebrow.

“Lia?”

“Yes.”

“I'm not sure I follow your logic.” Tyland tilts his head slightly. Alon’s eyes glitter.

“You are more than suited to guide Elayna through most of the political world, but parts of it neither you nor I can teach. And as much as I respect Lady Johanna, her politics are more suited to Casterly Rock.”

Tyland takes a moment, absorbing Alon's words. It makes sense. Tyland can help guide Elayna through certain decisions based on what he knows about the people around him, but she would need another woman's help when it comes to balancing the heart with reality. Slowly, Tyland sits upright. He nods, an impressed expression slipping onto his face. Alon continuously surprises him.

“I must confess. I never would have thought of that.”

“ ‘Tis my job as a father to think of these things.” Alon smiles at the compliment nevertheless.

“I'm sure she appreciates it.” Tyland murmurs. He watches more weariness seep into Alon's being. Alon coughs again, this one not as severe as earlier but nevertheless painful. He clears his throat.

“I am sorry to say this, but I fear my travels are finally catching up to me.” Alon's voice comes out a bit strained and weak, a bit of exhaustion creeping into it.

“I understand. It is long trip.” Tyland stands slowly. Alon starts as well, but Tyland stops him. “You need your rest. I can see myself out.”

#persephone writes #Tyland Lannister x OC #Fic: Wheel of Fortune #oc: elayna reyne #oc: tymon lannister #oc: alon reyne #fyeahhotdocs #Tylana #Tyland x Elayna #hotd ocs #house of the dragon ocs

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