Horn Hill: Seat of House Tarly

The Tyrell party is quickly led through the gates, which clang shut behind them, as a handful of men-at-arms maintain a keen-eyed watch over the forests and foothills. Word of the Ironborn presence to the south had reached the keep by now, and though they were still 150 leagues from the coast, the men of House Tarly would not take any chances. A young page, bright-eyed and fair of face, greeted the party with a bow and introducing himself as Anders Oakheart, a ward of Lord Tarly. Their horses were taken in by the stableboys and tended to, and they were led into the castle proper, and guided into a serving room.

"It is an honor to receive you my Lady Tyrell. Shall I call for the Lady Florent now, or would you prefer a moment to freshen up and rest from your time on the road?" The lad had the earnest gaze of one who has only experienced knights and war through tales, and not seen enough to disabuse him of his notions of chivalry.

He blinked a couple times, having been tragically unacquainted with the reputation of the Queen of Thorns, then turned and tried to walk away with some semblance of decorum, though by the sounds of his footfalls it turned into something of an undignified scramble as soon as he turned the corner. A couple minutes of waiting passed, and then Melessa Florent entered the room, followed close behind by her eldest daughter, Talla. Melessa wore a white gown with orange and blue trim, evoking the colors of her birth family, while Talla was dressed in green and red. The girl carried a tray with a pitcher and a set of silver goblets, which she set down on the table. "Lady Tyrell," she offered a curtsy for the matriarch of the Reach's liege-family, and after a slight elbow from her mother, Talla did the same, "I am sorry to have kept you waiting. Young Anders has read too much about the Dragonknight and Duncan the Tall, and seen too little of what real knights can do. It doesn't help that my husband was only around to actually watch his ward for a couple of weeks before he set off with the host."

She smoothed her skirts and settled in one of the chairs in the solar across from Lady Olenna, and poured the first glass of what, by its amber color and fragrance, appeared to be wine from the arbor. "Please, have a drink to clear the dust of travel," she said as she slid it across the table. Meanwhile Talla took over and began to fill the rest of the glasses, ensuring that everyone in the party could have something to drink if they wanted. Melessa took the first sip. "I hope you do not mind if my daughter lingers. It is past time she learned to follow in my footsteps. But please, I am sure you have come for a reason - don't let my delay any longer." She settled back into the chair slightly and looked expectantly towards the Queen of Roses.

"Yes my lady, more than two years ago now," the oldest daughter of house Tarly answered, "I am just past my 16th nameday." Lady Melessa nodded her agreement, "She is a woman grown, lady Tyrell" She took a sip of her own wine. She had not miscalculated the purpose of Olenna's visit it seemed. A pleasant smile of her own came to her face.

"That is the way of men, is it not? Off playing at war and politics, and thinking they are accomplishing something while the real work is done by us when they're gone." she turned her attention to her daughter, "I have heard good things about Willas, very good things, it is said he is both gentle and clever," she glances towards the Queen of Thorns for confirmation, "I imagine he would make you a very happy bride, and you would have a fine life in Highgarden, well within visiting distance."

The younger woman seemed slightly nervous and unsure, but in her eyes, excitement was beginning to gleam. Even as she opened her mouth to respond, there was a slight commotion, and a page entered the room. There was a hushed conversation, and then Lady Melessa smiled again, a bright smile that reached her eyes, "It seems my son Dickon has returned to us from the capital, he too is newly wed, perhaps you can speak to young Eleanor Mooton, I hear she has come along as well." Her smile seemed genuine and happy, as she turned to Lady Olenna, "I hope you can pardon the interruption, My Lady, I had not realized my Lord Husband was sending Dickon home to us, although I am certainly glad. It may do young men well to see the reality of war, but 13 is terribly young."

There were a few more moments of waiting, and more wine was drunk, before two younger people entered the room. Both were dressed for travel, coated with a fine layer of dust, but the clothes were still fine and their nobility was unmistakable. The identity of the young man was unmistakable to anyone who had ever laid eyes upon Randyll Tarly. Dickon was still half a head shorter than his renowned father, and his form was notably less muscled, but his arms already displayed some of the thickness of who was acquainted with wielding a blade. The lines of his face were softer, but a strong brow and the firm, stern line his mouth formed was quite familiar, a boy trying to emulate his father. He offered a well-practiced bow, before his court decorum yielded to his more boyish nature and he ran across the room and hugged his mother and older sister. "Mother! Talla!" he cried, before quickly remembering the other guest in the room. He turned once more, "Ahm... this is my new wife Eleanor Mooton, er... Tarly? I don't know..." he trailed off awkwardly as the young woman stepped forward.

She had dark hair and dark eyes, and was glad in the red and gold of house Mooton, though the green cloak thrown about her shoulders bore the striding huntsman of House Tarly. "Good afternoon Lady Tyrell, Lady Tarly," she curtsied formally to both of them, "Lord Tarly and my father decided it was best I come visit here while the Riverlands are rebuilt by Lord Baelish, the Crown and the Freys." Her thoughts on the individuals she listed were completely hidden, she had obviously been well trained in the ways of the court, with all its formalities and subtleties.

Dickon offered a rather hurried bow as he was addressed, and then pondered her words. "I have my father's reputation to live up to My Lady, and Seven willing, we will not find our nation riding to war any time soon after these times are past. I would rather win that renown as soon as possible." He had been to war alongside his father, but it was clear that despite his expectations for the boy, Randyll had shielded him from the worst of it. Or perhaps the boy was simply cut from the same cloth as his father, and could look into the worst parts of a bloody field of battle and still feel at home. Only time and more experience would truly tell.

Meanwhile Eleanor Mooton nodded solemnly before she responded. "Even so my Lady, from what my father has told me, those are the players who will claim the credit when the farms of the Riverlands flower come the next spring, and when her castles stand tall and proud once more. Lord Baelish will point to his title, and the old Frey to his wealth, and the Crown to, well, the crown, and each will claim it as evidence for the recovery." She seemed a rather astute girl, in many ways her match to Dickon was not unlike the matching of harsh Randyll and gentle, clever Melessa. It was known that despite their differences, the Lord and Lady of Horn Hill did love each other, it could only be hoped that the new young couple would reach the same point.

The young lady smoothed her skirts and folded her hands at her waist, composing herself, before responding,"I would like to see my home restored to its former peace. I would like to see the soot and char scrubbed from Maidenpool's pink walls, and I would see them kept clean forever. I would like to see the wetland farms ready to harvest, and fishing villages full of people, and their little boats out on the Trident with no fear of being conscripted, or pillaged for food for damned armies. And if I don't overstep myself, I would like to never see another Lion banner, or Wolf, or even," she gave an apologetic look to Olenna, Another golden rose flapping above it again." Her chin had tilted up defiantly by the time she was done speaking, "The Lords can play at their war so long as they want, but my city has seen enough bloodshed, and the smallfolk of my land have shed enough of that blood." Her voice quavered a little at the end, she had seen only thirteen namedays after all, but her eyes showed her determination.