'happy prologues to
the swelling act of the
imperial theme'

_______

      REYONA INHALED SLOWLY and deeply through her nose. There was a quaking in her heart as the carriage rocked and bounced down the dirt road, her stomach churning at every pace that brought her closer to the Reach, to her new home, and to the man who would soon be making a claim on her heart. 

     It had been easier to leave her father and her sisters, Reyona found, than it had been for her to leave her brothers behind. Even with the unfortunate event of the Queen's ruthless sentencing of Lady, the weight of it was easier to bear than the weight of Bran's declining health. 

      The mess of the King's Road was physically behind her, but the horror still lingered on, only adding to the young Stark's heavy heart. Arya has been right, after all; the butcher's boy had been killed by the royal family. 

      Thrown over the back of a steed like a prized kill, Reyona had watched as the Hound strutted his giant horse through the camp. The image of Mycha limply swaying with its movements still churned a pang in Reyona's stomach. It solidified Reyona's prior opinions about Ser Clegane. He was not a good man; he was a good hound and nothing more. For only a hound could thoughtlessly murder a boy and parade him through a camp uncovered. 

      Reyona, shaking the past from her mind, wondered in silence if Loras was a good man.

     Only a year older than herself and already a renowned and respected fighter, surely the Knight of Flowers was an honourable man with strong morals, but even so, she hoped he was as kind as the women in his family, as intelligent.  

       Sansa had always said he was incredibly handsome and noble and just and that the sun shined out of his arse. Reyona scoffed at the thought, tightening the buckskin cloak around her shoulders. What did Sansa know? She'd never met the man, and surely neither had the people who had filled her head with such tales. 

      Reyona drew in another breath, each one more calming than the last. She could taste the Reach in her lungs. The air sang with notes of earth and the rich tang of blooming buds. Reaching out a milky hand, Reyona flung the tightly drawn curtains open and watched the green lands roll by. All across the plains, people of all shapes and sizes were hard at work harvesting and clearing away soil for new crops. 

      The air was lighter here, she pondered. But, heavier, in a different manner that she couldn't quite put a finger on. Reyona pulled the thick green and gold embroidered curtains closed for the second time, the scenery only quickening her pulse once more. At her feet, a slumbering Lyanna stirred then fell deeper into her dream.

      "There's no need to be worried," Margaery spoke up as she set her book aside to smile at her travelling companion. Reyona blushed at how easily Margaery could read her emotions and stopped toying with her restless fingers, settling on patting down the soft blue silks of her dress skirts. "I recall the first time I was to meet my betrothed: Renly; I couldn't sleep for a week and I looked absolutely deranged." Margaery smiled sweetly, the divots in her cheeks peeking through. 

     Reyona wondered if Margaery Tyrell had ever truly appeared 'deranged' in her life; Reyona couldn't imagine her being anything less becoming than she was now with her coils of brown hair neatly styled and her glowingly innocent complexion. The Tyrell could perform no wrong-doing or misstep in Reyona's eyes.

      "Renly Baratheon, is he a good man?" 

      "Yes," Margaery nodded, "and so is Loras. He's very eager to meet you, Reyona."

      Reyona picked at her fingers once more, her heart swelling. "And I, him."

      Margaery grinned and leant forward, flinging open the curtains and egging Reyona over to the window with her pointed gaze. "Good. You will love Highgarden as I do, I know it, Reyona. Once you see it, you'll never want to leave." Reaching out a finger, Margaery pointed as the girls passed a large stone pillar. "Now, I want to show you some landmarks as we journey Roseroad."

      With her mind full of worries and her heart shrinking and growing with every league of the horses, Reyona could only smile and nod as Margaery pointed out various landmarks and places where infamous battles for the Reach had taken place. Her honey-dipped words went through one ear and out the other, but Reyona pretended to be listening all the while. 

     It felt nice to have a conversation in the stead of silence, and, eventually, Reyona allowed herself to push her insecurities and fear to the back of her mind. Lush greenery rolled past, fields of golden roses as far as the eye could see filled Reyona's vision, little plumes of wealth budding in the warmth of the Southern sun. 

Highgarden. Reyona was here at last. 

     The melody of Service of the Gods, the House Tyrell theme, rose up around the carriage as it entered through the three rings of white stone walls surrounding the city. Highgarden was alive, bustling as singers, pipers, fiddlers and harpers all gathered at the gates, together forming a joyous chorus of welcome, celebrating the return of their two ladies and rejoicing in the coming of another. 

      "They're excited about your return," Reyona mused, her steel eyes wide with awe as she peered through the window, watching smallfolk run alongside the carriage, tossing flowers at the party as children giggled and chased each other on the sidelines. 

        "They're celebrating in your coming as well," Margaery said, waving to the people and beaming from ear to ear. Her love for her citizens poured out through her actions and even Reyona basked in the warmth of her smile.

      The air was thick with the scent of a thousand roses, hints of ripening fruits and fermented wine clung to the wind as Reyona breathed it in. The sweet, summer air of Highgarden was as Old Nan had proclaimed it to be. Nothing like the stale, earth and grass drenched stench of Winterfell heavy with musk and snow. 

      If Reyona could wrap her frame in the scent, she would have been forever pleased.

      Waiting, at the front of the Tyrell castle, was a welcoming party fit for a Queen. Tyrell banners fluttered in the scented breeze as sword swords stood valiantly beside two men on horseback as ladies-in-waiting stood patiently, awaiting any command to be thrown at them. One of the men quickly dismounted, the heavy clang of armour bearing a significant amount of weight hitting the cobblestones sounded out from among the sweet tune being played by the smallfolk.   

       "Welcome, welcome!" The boisterous, loud voice of the dismounted man called through the thick of the gathering crowds being held at bay by sworn knights of Highgarden. He was a rather fat, but handsome man with broad shoulders and a once-powerful-looking build. By his age, Reyona could only assume this man was the Lord of Highgarden himself, Mace Tyrell. 

      He trudged to the forefront of the welcoming party, his long curly brown hair fluttering as he did. Lady Stark has always callously told Reyona that she could tell a lot about a man by the way he dressed and held himself. Mace Tyrell had a clean cut appearance with a finely trimmed, white and grey speckled brown beard and his shining silver chains that hung around his neck lavishly. If Lady Catelyn were here, she would have told Reyona that Mace Tyrell was undoubtedly a prideful man who took pleasure in the finer things in life a little too much for her liking. Reyona was sure, however, that despite Lord Tyrell's affluent appearance, he was a self-assured man who cared for his family and held a respect for the Crown. His honey coloured eyes gleamed with an internal happiness that Reyona had also found in his daughter's gaze; it reassured Reyona and she smiled softly as he approached her, hand extended. 

     "Lady Reyona of House Stark," Lord Tyrell greeted Reyona, "it is a pleasure to meet you. My mother," Mace turned and nodded towards Olenna who was sporting a tight-lipped smile, but Reyona could see a slight divot in her brow, "has told me only good things about your character."

      Taking the Lord's hand, Reyona bowed and racked her mind for what she was meant to say next, all of Septa Mordane's lessons failing her now. Perhaps she should have spent more time listening to Septa Mordane and less time toying with her sisters. "It's an honour, my lord. Thank you for welcoming me to your home."

      That sounded decorous and, based on the grin that Mace Tyrell sported, it was perfectly suited.

      Reyona's gaze trailed to the silver breasted knight perched atop his white horse, glimmering in the sun as any romantic storybook prince that enraptured Sansa's deepest fantasies. Reyona knew him immediately: Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers. Dismounting his mare, Loras confidently strode to greet the rest of his family, a dazzling grin on his face. Sansa's words reigned true, it seemed. He was an exceptionally handsome youth with long, flowing brown hair and golden eyes. Strewn over his shoulders was his personal coat of arms, three golden roses on a field of green. Much like his younger sister, Loras was slender and strode with a self-assured pride that called the attention of many smallfolk around the Highgarden entrance. 

        Mace eagerly pulled his son closer, yanking him by the upper arm and placing his gloved hand into Reyona's. "Lady Reyona, this is my son, Loras Tyrell."

      Reyona's cheeks flushed, despite herself, as Loras stooped to kiss her pale hand. "It is a delight to meet you, Ser Loras," she softly spoke, growing shy in her growing exhaustion from the travelling. Inwardly, Reyona chastised herself at her faint-hearted reaction. She had not known what to expect from the Knight of Flowers, but now that she was seeing him in the flesh, he was unlike anything she had seen before. No man of Winterfell was beautiful in such a manner. He was an odd perfection, much like a beautiful woman. 

      "The delight is all mine, Lady Reyona, welcome to our home." Loras turned from Reyona to greet his grandmother and sister, embracing them respectfully and curtly as the ladies-in-waiting flocked to the Tyrell family's side.

       Margaery took hold of the hand of a young, pale-faced girl with an upturned nose and soft, honeyed eyes. "Elinor, cousin, would you accompany Lady Reyona and me to her new quarters? Reyona has been of great comfort to me over the long travel," Margaery locked eyes with Reyona as she continued to speak, bringing the trio together, "and I am confident that you both will delight in one another's company."

      "But of course," Elinor complied, squeezing tightly to Margaery's hand before turning to Reyona and tucking her long, brown curls behind her petite ears. "I can lead you now if you're prepared?"

      Reyona glanced around her, noting the lack of Lyanna. Turning back to the carriage, Lyanna was laying on the floor, sound asleep, a black rug on the wooden floorboard. Heart swelling at the sight, Reyona almost didn't have the nerve to wake the wolf, knowing the journey had taken a lot out of her. Just like Reyona, Lyanna had never been South of White Harbor and the move was exhausting.

       Despite her better judgement, Reyona reached out a steady hand and brushed her fingers through Lyanna's thick ebony fur, slowly waking the wolf from her rest. Lyanna stretched out her legs, earning a gasp from a startled Elinor as the confidante to Margaery marvelled at the beast. The wolf's head snapped up at the sound of fear, her ears perked atop her head, and she blinked slowly as Reyona kept her hand on Lyanna's side, partly holding the wolf down, partly soothing the startled beast with her touch. 

        "My," Elinor gaped, eyes shifting nervously from Reyona to the beast, then back to Lady Margaery, "Lady Reyona, what a lovely... lovely dog you possess."

      Reyona chuckled, commanding Lyanna to step out from the Tyrell carriage and follow behind her. "Lyanna is my direwolf, Miss Elinor." Elinor blinked at the mere size of the wolf. Lyanna already stood well past Reyona's knees and was only continuing to grow every day. Not even Reyona knew how big the wolf would become once she was full grown, though she didn't worry about it. "Don't fret, she won't hurt you."

       Elinor twisted her hands together, a weak flutter of a forced smile on her lips. "Oh, no I never doubted your pet. I'm sure she's well trained." Regardless of her confident words, Elinor strayed away from Lyanna, creating a bubble of space. Gathering up her gold and green silk dress skirts, Elinor quickened her pace through the front doors of Highgarden. "Allow me to show you to your chambers."

     The Tyrells taste for flora and marble shone as Reyona was led to her new quarters. Columns and columns of marble pillars ascended the open home, wild ivy scaling the sides of them and adding to the greenery of the Reach. It was a magnificent change compared to the stone walls and closed off home of the Starks. The Tyrells didn't have an unbearable cold to battle against, and without the cold left the availability for decadence, which was something the Tyrells quite clearly had a keen eye for. 

      "Here we are, Lady Reyona," Elinor spoke up, stopping at a wooden door fashioned with a cast-iron knocker and handle. Margaery pushed the door open lightly and appeared to approve of Reyona's chambers, taking in the room as if she were to be staying in it. 

       The room was Southern, Reyona thought as she took it in, light footsteps echoing off the empty walls as she paced around it.

     It was a wide room with four walls and was spacious enough for multiple people. The walls were cream coloured and golden roses were painted on almost every surface of the room. Gold rose curtains, gold rose pots, and there were even golden roses in a vase of water beside the gold and green spread bed. "It's lovely, thank you," Reyona breathed, running her fingers through the soft material of the bed. As she'd expected, it felt heavenly to the touch. Smooth and silky and scented to perfection.

      Sansa's dream, she admitted in the depths of her mind. If only Sansa could see her now, Reyona was sure her sister would be green with envy, almost as green as the trim of the room.

      "Elinor," Margaery considered the room, "bring a bed for Lyanna. Something large." Elinor bowed her head and promptly made her exit, making sure to take the long path out of the room, giving the direwolf as much space between herself and the beast. 

       Lyanna's nails click click click-ed on the marble floor as the wolf followed behind the hand-maid, sensing the girl's fear. Biting the inside of her cheek, Reyona refrained from laughing, finding the Tyrell's fear completely reasonable, but no less humorous. Reaching out, Reyona firmly grasped the loose scruff of Lyanna's pelt, stopping the wolf from stalking the poor girl any longer. 

        Protesting, Lyanna turned her head and licked Reyona's forearm, nuzzling her black snout against Reyona's side with an audible huff. 

      "I apologise, Reyona." Margaery lowered herself down onto the mattress and adjusted her skirts, waiting for the door to close behind Elinor before continuing on. "Direwolves are essentially myths in the Reach, unheard of on the scale of dragons themselves. Lyanna will take some getting used to, but I have the utmost confidence in Elinor, and the others, to accept her with open arms."

      Reyona shook her head and removed her hold on Lyanna, who immediately rushed to the wide windows with excitement and causing the birds outside to flutter away in fear, sitting down beside Margaery. "It's rational to fear what you know not. It would be more of a concern for Elinor if she was not afraid of Lyanna."

       "You speak wisely." Margaery stood from her seat and offered Reyona a pleasant smile, folding her hands over her slender waist. "Today, we rest from the long journey. On the morrow, we shall explore. Is there anywhere, in particular, you would like to visit in Highgarden?"

       "Yes." Reyona had the very place in mind, unable to shake it from her thoughts. "Your weirwood."

       The answer was unexpected, that fact flashed across Margaery's features, but she brushed it off simply and offered the new ward an understanding nod. "Certainly." Not a minute longer, Margaery left Reyona in her new room, to settle in, to come to terms with her new life.

       In the midst of the quiet, Reyona felt a new sensation, the sensation of guilt. If only for a brief moment, Reyona's mind wandered to Sansa. This was Sansa's dream, this place resonated the very image of her younger sister with its finery and scenery. Even the scent of Highgarden was the very substance that fueled Sansa's deluded dreams about knights and the finer life. 

      Reyona had, unwittingly, taken the future that Sansa had desired for herself since they were young girls. There was a heaviness in her heart at the realisation of that, and, now compelled to make amends, Reyona sat at a desk in the corner of the room where the Tyrells had supplied utensils for letter writing and began to compose an epistle to her sisters. 

___________

author's note:

So, I'm trying shorter chapters [shoutout to anyone still reading this, it's been too long], tell me whether you like the shorter ones compared to the more lengthy ones.

Please comment, vote, or whatever on this so I know who's still interested in this story -- I realise I've been shite when it comes to updating!