location: the reach during the time skip who: @visxionaries​

she couldn’t remember the last time her and cedric shared each other’s company without the buffer of someone with them. with their interactions with one another were limited, it often meant she would remain by his side for appearance sake, the two of them hardly uttering more than a few words to one another. many would inevitably clue into the unhappy marriage that the two of them found them in. it is what made the facade so much harder to continue.

she spent most of her time alone; attending to her duties in the alms or even finding herself wandering the streets of oldtown in disguise. she would occasionally spend time with her ladies, seffora was great company and florence could tell the young merryweather was always making an effort to raise florence’s spirits. as the weeks have gone by, the new queen of the reach was often found in the castle’s libraries; eventually finding her way to the tyrells own personal collection. she trailed her fingers across the endless spines of books; taking time each day to explore the pages of a new book. 

then it happened. 

she found a book that looked ordinary enough, the book was thinner than the others and was somewhat shelfworn and without a dust jacket and faded spin. upon opening the books, she came to realize she had discovered the diary in which belonged to queen eloise tyrell. 

florence’s first thought was cedric.

she quickly closed the book shut. it didn’t seem right to pry through a dead queen’s diary she told herself. however, she brought the diary back to her own rooms, hiding it in the drawer of her desk, giving her time to decide what to do next. it sat there for a few days; contemplating whether or not to share the diary with him or not. how would he react to such a thing? would he be cold and dismissive? it was not time that allowed one to heal from grief, but rather what they do with that grief. and for her husband, she found that he hid his grief; avoided the painful emotions that inevitably brought up at the mentioning of his mother. but eventually she knew she would give it to him. it is what she would have wanted if the roles were reversed.

she knocked on his chamber doors, his own guards allowing her to pass through. she waits for him to open the doors. gods, here we go…

flashback thread with @oldflowersbyname​ location: highgarden, the reach

florence couldn't put together what she felt in this moment. she was aghast by how quickly her world seemed to be trembling down. with each step she took, she felt a a flash of anger wash through her, but at the same time, with each breathe she took she felt her self suffocating. 

this isn’t real... 

ten seconds passed, and then twenty and thirty, emotions still consuming her. 

no, this was very much real. 

she admitted to herself; the hurt that comes from such a realization hitting her like ocean waves; hard and all at once. she bites her lower lip in attempt to hide back the tears that were on the verge of slipping out.

she knew she should wait. wait to confront her friend when her emotions weren’t at such an extreme high. she knew she was going to say things she would later regret, but she could find it in her to wait. not after everything that has now unfolded. laena and cedric were the two in her life that were constant; the two people in her life who she has been able to trust. and her trust was not something she gave out easily. she eventually makes it back to her own chambers where laena now waits for her. she enters, her face flushed. her orbs land on laena and she feels herself become at loss for words. standing behind the tall wooden doors she just came from, hazel meets violet. she shook her head. “i know.”

“why?” she demanded, her voice barely above just a whisper. 

briarxbloom​:

𝕺dette clasped her hands tightly together and still kept her pained smile. She had so many questions. She wanted to know why now and why hadn’t she bothered to write, to send a messenger. To do…anything.

She felt self-conscious, a poor excuse for a young lady in comparison to the women before her. Hair mussed, clothes covered in flour and dust, a callous or two on her hands. Things had truly changed. She nodded. ❝Of course, please lead the way,❞ she gestured toward the entrance of the shop. Her stomach hurt and her mind swam with so many thoughts long kept locked inside her.

.

florence wanted to explain. explain what caused her to not write -- to explain how her sudden legitimization to house hightower resulted in her being thrown into a world of nobility and royalty; that it meant her every moved was watched and she was forbidden to interact with those who her family deemed inappropriate. as the years went by, she learned how to get around these obstacles, seemingly she became quite good at mastering the skills of deceits and lies. she didn’t consider herself to be a disingenuous person, but it was who she had to be with her new family.

she began apologizing to the woman she once called a friend, explaining what had resulted in her parting ways, hoping this would be enough to forgive her. “i have come to invite you to court.” she stated, knowing this was something odette always talked about while they were still girls. “i wish for you to become one of my lady maids.” her preference was to have her as one of her ladies, but she quickly learned how political such an position was.

sunglxss​:

open starter where: dornish ball

The Reach lord she was dancing with seemed to have tentacles rather than hands. The dry wine and the music made Lyra feel charitable, and when the bumbling lordling asked her to dance, she said yes. A horrible mistake, she now realized, as she desperately tried to pry his wandering hands of her waist. The sounds of the musicians came to a stops, and Lyra thanked the Seven for saving her from further torment. As soon as it ended, Lyra quickly curtsied to the man and walked away, wishing to never feel his sweaty palms anywhere near her.

It seemed the lord was of a different opinion. As soon as she saw him crossing the floor, his destination clearly being her, she bolted. There was no way she could endure another moment near him. Without thinking where she was going, she crossed the ballroom, running into the corridors leading further into the castle. Shelter appeared in form of a balcony, and she quickly entered, her back pressed tightly against the wall. While trying to blend into the scenery, hoping she wasn't seen, she finally exhaled.

"Gods help me," she uttered, closing her eyes.

.

florence hightower wished she was anywhere but here right. only coming to the ball for appearance sakes, she spent most of her evening counting down the minutes until it would be socially acceptable for her to say her goodbyes and retire to her rooms for the evening. formal events, such as a ball, meant remaining close to her husband’s side, something she mostly has been avoiding at all costs. but it also meant playing the role of queen, something which was being forced upon her by her father. if she had it her way, the pair would have divorced long ago.

she decided to seek sanctuary by a nearby balcony; standing on one side and staring out into the night’s darkness. eventually she hears the soft whispers causing the woman to turn around. not expecting someone to join her company, she is somewhat startled by the woman’s sudden appearance. “the gods won’t help you.” she found herself impulsively stating out loud; her own experience with the harsh reality of the world they lived in being responsible for her jaded attitude. “are you alright?”

wcrdsarewind​:

a starter for @florencehightower​ timeskip powers activate  location; oldtown

Here was how it started. Omer wanted to make a trip to Oldtown because he enjoyed making the trip occasionally and taking time to himself. Being able to hunt. It was at during one of their last conversations when the King suggested he take the time and while he didn’t right away; he took up the chance when it came. Oldtown was the place where one could disappear in the crowds. People didn’t give you too many looks. They noticed when your clothes were better than there’s and they always noticed the fine sword on his hip and the short cape he wore over his left shoulder, the breeches, and the high collar of his fine shirt. For Omer, blending in didn’t mean looking like the peasants. It meant he didn’t have to wear armor. 

Then, then he saw her. Their Queen. And she was without guard. Were she with the guard, Omer would have let the assumption he spotted her go away, but he could not. It would have been irresponsible. And Omer wouldn’t have people whisper how the Lord Commander allowed the Queen consort to pass him by. What if they kidnapped her? Murdered? Shoved her into a box and sent her to their enemies. No. Omer would do the smart thing. He would just stay a fair distance back and follow her. If he could see her, then she would be safe.

When they met years ago, they were quite different people. Well, Omer felt he’d been himself his whole life, while others would say he was different in youth, if only slightly. It was how he could meet Florence on a hunt, unaware of anything about her. Omer came across people on his hunts often and if they weren’t poachers or bandits, then he would speak with them, hunt with them if they were capable. Had he someone told him things would turn this way, him the Lord Commander and her under his cloak of protection, he would have called them mad. 

Omer paused and turned to look at nothing. He didn’t have someone to cover his head or face and his haircut was recent. If not for his fear of lice, he could have kept it long and it would have come in handy. But how was he to know he would be this? Knights should always be prepared. He made a mental note to find mummers. They knew of tricks. OH. He supposed he could also ask his sister. She probably sneaked up on people without them ever knowing she was there. 

Perhaps he could shrink behind someone. It was a pity that he could never find an enormous wall when he needed one. 

.

with everything that has been happening in her personal life, the new queen of the reach often now found herself wandering oldtown by herself. she would venture out of her chambers, with her own personal guards closely behind her, but at some point through the day, she’d manage to maneuver her way through the castle until she was unseen and could find her way out. she preferred it this way. and while it would likely cause an outrage by her brothers to hear she was leaving the protection of the castle walls, she strongly suspected that the new thorn king was well aware of her expeditions. 

given how well her husband knew her, it was likely painfully obvious to him where she has been spending all her time as of late, sometimes not returning home until much later into the evening. she appreciated that he could trust her to fend for herself and not sending guards her way anyway. although their marriage was on the brink of falling apart, she ended up reversing her initial request for a divorce after being extorted by her father to continue the relationship for his own advantage. nobody knew this, of course. it was her secret to bare alone. 

florence eventually sauntered towards the oldtown’s market, merchant’s selling local produce and other homemade goods. she browsed as she walked, keeping her voice low as she greets merchants and other villagers who passed by her. she kept her hair tied into a tight braid and used the hood of her cloak to cover most of her face. she was doubtful that many of the villagers would even recognize her face given that many had never heard of a florence hightower until recently. to most, her face was known as just florence. florence flowers. but without any guards and just a mere dagger as a defence, she knew it was better to stay as concealed just in case she was recognized as royal. one would could say florence was avoiding her role as queen, but it felt better this way. it allowed her to avoid the heartache that seemed to overwhelm her entire frame whenever in the same room as cedric or their court. even being in the company of her other ladies-in-waiting started to become too much for her.

she continued maneuvering through the crowd, eventually coming to the conclusion that someone was following her. she began to pick up her pace, hoping her instincts were wrong and she was being overly paranoid, but the tall figure continued to follow behind her, quickly picking up their own pace so they don’t lose her. now out and away from the merchant halls, her first instinct is to confront the man. it probably would make the most sense if she does it right in the open in front of everyone rather than meeting the person alone. she walks for some time before turning abruptly on her heels and comes face to face with her follower. “can i help you?” she demands. “oh!” she steps back, realizing who she’s confronted. 

Synnøve Karlsen, Scottish actress, born on 30th July 1996 in Glasgow, UK. Photoshoot by Johnny Carrano for The Italian Reve (Oct 2019).

TRUTH SERUM: If you could rule without a king, what would be different in your rule of the Reach?

“i would abdicate from the throne.” she could not see herself rule without cedric by her side. “and likely form a republic. let the people decide who should represent them and lead. the small council would be let go and instead each position would be elected by the people.”

truth serum: what is one thing you would change about yourself, should you wish to?

a sheepish grin slowly spread across her face, immediately knowing what her answer would be. it was something she had been told by many throughout her youth, her mother included. “my quick temper seems to be my downfall.”

“that or my stubbornness. getting rid of one or the other would do.”

truth serum: you became queen when you and your husband are not even speaking, but tell me, do you believe him able and willing to kill his own brother? an anointed king in his own right?

with her jaw clenched tightly together, her temper sparked and a flicker of irritation began to thrummed through her. although she was not considered politically minded, she still understood the predicament cedric was placed in. she was privy to knowledge that most did not know -- and while many would see cedric tyrell as an anointed king, his inner circle knew it was far from it. the crown was thrusted upon him; by the thorn king's madness and the turmoil and corruption that would have inevitably spread and infect the reach if cedric did not intervene. "we both know that cedric makes a better king than his brother a hundred times over." despite only just entering the beginning of his reign, he has already invested more in social infrastructures and the arts than his predecessors. 

"able? yes, but he is in an impossible situation. a crown he did not want. and with the mad king’s role in the murder of the late princess? yes, he is willing. and if it is something he decides, it will be a decision he does not take lightly. know that kings too have their burdens."

@visxionaries 

truth serum: do you ever feel jealous or insecure regarding the other women in the reach court? if so, who?

the queen's hazel hues darted to the ground momentarily, her body language no doubt answering the question for her. she didn't no how to answer. jealous? perhaps jealous of other women's ability to follow court customs and following the high standards that were forced upon women, but not jealously for their fancy titles, expensive jewelry or ornate gowns. 

there wasn't a day in her life where she hasn't gone without feeling insecure since she with legitimized by her father and brought to court.

"would saying every woman count? if not, lady redwyne or lady florent, most definitely. the merryweather sisters as well. lady tarly is e the epitome of what a wife should be.” everything she was not. “my good sister too.”

@lucreziasredwyne @rhea-florent @serafinamerryweather @seffora-merryweather @lynoratarly @calla-lefford

truth serum: do you ever think about laena targaryen, and do you ever regret the way things occurred?

florence hightower stood straight, her fingertips tracing the sleeve of her sage green gown, taking a brief moment to pause to ensure that she chose her answer carefully. although she would refuse to admit it out loud to someone, she still thought of laena everyday. how could she not, really? she spent the last decade viewing this woman as sister to her, and despite what she had done, the love she shared for her didn't just get up and vanish after everything that had happened. she hoped she found happiness, yes, but florence had come to terms with her owen decision to forego their friendship.

"i think the one who should have regrets is her. her actions are the reason our friendship was ruined."

@oldflowersbyname 

TRUTH SERUM: Do you love Florence?

the questioned still him for a moment, as he thought on all that had happened, all the anger and resentment he felt toward a certain pair of hazel orbs. there was much he felt toward the woman, where at times he thought it better if they had never known one another at all. and yet still, he knew the honest answer. “no man would turn his world upside down and spill blood for a woman he did not love.”

@florencehightower

The rustle of book pages, the creak of a pen and secret letters.

visxionaries​:

“We both know when some things are not worth it at all.” How long had it been since they took their place as mere pawns on a chessboard, playing the part that was expected of them, all the while water seemed to fill their very lungs, making each breath feel forced  - nothing seemed to feel at ease, or natural anymore. How often they smiled in the face of their people, attempting to build a court that was a place for their courtiers to flourish, all whilst the pair of them attempted to be everything they were not? He wondered why none had approached him, not even the woman he called wife, to speak on the matter of this being avoided should he simply ensure the wedding date happened.

No, it were merely lies that piled up more on his head - as though he did not feel as though he were already dealing with the weight of the world, a truth that was teetering on being revealed, and his own family combusting the day he chose to do what needed to be done and unseat the King of Thorns. Lest heads roll, when the throne is taken again. More shit for him to clean up, more ties for him to ensure did not have backlash. It was enough to cause him to want to burst, and yet, he tried to keep his voice at a level that did not rise. 

And there it was. Can we not have a conversation?

“No, Florence.” He spoke, not bothering to return to her side, his voice suddenly rising. He had tried, and he was done. His selfishness had always been an inherent part of his very nature… Gods was it not the very reason he was not home to ensure he knew what had happened the day he found two shrouds that he once called Father and Mother? There had always been a sense of self-preservation about him, but it had never been about wanting power; it was about ensuring he would remain who he wished himself to be, regardless of the crushing weight the ideas of Hector and Alaric Tyrell had upon him. “You cannot lie to my face for weeks, then ask me for a conversation.”

“At this point, it feels like you give me more shit to deal with, rather than be someone I can rely on - forget a wife, but a friend. A confidant. A partner.” 

In some regards, the second son of House Tyrell had found himself fitting too comfortably into the role that he had chased his entire life; had he not spent more time with his people over his own family, in order to avoid the lurches of power? Yet here he was, the crown upon his head in all but name, with the clear message: just know if you hide, it doesn’t go away. There was more bubbling within his mind, frothing and boiling dangerously to those who would dare touch, that Florence herself would not know. How could she? 

And yet, he could not help but feel like there was an ocean between them, and he was done trying to build a bridge. “Doing this again and again, trying to explain to one another what we will never be able to understand - it’s too much.” How he wished to tell her he felt as though he were drowning, how every little movement and action was only building more panic and stress. How he wished he could just fuck off into the horizon, and not speak to anyone for some days. 

But he couldn’t. He never can.

.

it took everything she could find within her to bite her tongue, to force back all of the spiteful words she wished to scream at his direction. controlling her own impulses, especially while under the full control and guise of anger, was something florence had struggled with for most of her life. this impulsivity was also the explanation for the mayhem and trouble that seemed to chase her while living on the streets of oldtown, back when she was known to most as just florence flowers. “we?” she exasperated, “say it how it is, cedric. that you deem it unworthy because it does not suit you.” she stepped towards where he stood, her hazel orbs fixated on him, staring at him with nothing but total irritation. “my brother thought it was worth it. and while he vexes me even on the bestest of days, it was clear that this decision was worth it to him and he would never do something that would mean putting the reach at risk. you do not get to sit here on your high horse and deem what is worthy and unworthy for someone else.” 

she could feel herself become flushed, her hands even beginning to slightly shake; feeling as if she would combust from where she stood. “perhaps if you could be reasonable, i wouldn’t have had to lie at all.” she felt as though she needed to keep things from him for the pair did not do well at handling conflict. while he would storm off and stonewall her after an argument, she would remain locked away in her own chambers until it was late enough in the evening for her to slip out and keep herself preoccupied at the nearest village. this would go on for days before making up. he would be the first to give in, to apologise and try to make amends and come to some sort of resolution, but her own stubbornness and pride made it so the roles rarely reversed. they were raised in two completely worlds; two worlds that would always mean their relationship would need work; that compromises would be needed given their constant differing of opinions.

“at this point, it feels like you give me more shit to deal with, rather than be someone i can rely on - forget a wife, but a friend. a confidant. a partner.” 

she tried her best to shield the pang of emotions that stabbed through her chest all at once; not expecting such words from him, but also shocked by how much his words surprisingly seemed to stun. his words seemed as if it ripped open all of her insecurities, one by one, and then brought to the surface and shoved into her face. she had been trying. trying to play the role of a partner she knew he deserved. but she only continued to fall short. “i didn’t want any of this, but i’m trying. that’s more that can be said for you. it is clear that you just want me to behave like one of your puppets.”

she turned so her back now faced him, not wanting him to see the tears that begin to slip down her cheeks. “just leave.” she stated.

end.

melodical​:

seven houses (2/7) - asoiafminor meme House Hightower of the Hightower is one of the most important and powerful vassals of House Tyrell (and before them of House Gardener). Their seat is the Hightower in the city of Oldtown within the Reach. The sigil of House Hightower is a stone white watchtower, with a fire on the top. Their words are “We Light the Way”. They possess a Valyrian steel sword called Vigilance. The Hightowers are among the oldest and proudest of the Great Houses. They have often preferred trade instead of war, and have also avoided many wars because of their support for the Faith of the Seven. The Hightowers can be legitimately referred to as being either “of Hightower” or “of Oldtown.”

twoiafart​:

The World of Ice and Fire - The Hightower on Battle Isle

When first glimpsed in the pages of history, the Hightowers are already kings, ruling Oldtown from Battle Isle. The first “high tower,” the chroniclers tell us, was made of wood and rose some fifty feet above the ancient fortress that was its foundation. Neither it, nor the taller timber towers that followed in the centuries to come, were meant to be a dwelling; they were purely beacon towers, built to light a path for trading ships up the fog-shrouded waters of Whispering Sound. The early Hightowers lived amidst the gloomy halls, vaults, and chambers of the strange stone below. It was only with the building of the fifth tower, the first to be made entirely of stone, that the Hightower became a seat worthy of a great house. That tower, we are told, rose two hundred feet above the harbor. Some say it was designed by Brandon the Builder, whilst others name his son, another Brandon; the king who demanded it, and paid for it, is remembered as Uthor of the High Tower.

Artist: Ted Nasmith