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Margaery Tyrell aesthetic board/moodboard
Margaery Tyrell aesthetic board/moodboard
HIGHGARDEN
Highgarden is a castle which serves as the seat of House Tyrell, the regional capital of the Reach, and the heart of chivalry in the Seven Kingdoms. It lies on the Mander where the ocean road meets the roseroad, making it an important crossroads.
Highgarden is located on a broad verdant hill overlooking the Mander. The castle is surrounded by three rings of white stone whose crenellated curtain walls increase in height. Between the outer and middle walls is a famous briar labyrinth which serves to entertain as well as slow invaders. The oldest towers, squat and square, date from the Age of Heroes. Newer towers are tall and slender, round fortifications dating from after the coming of the Andals.
The castle sept, which has rows of stained-glass windows honoring Garth Greenhand and the Seven, is matched only by the Great Sept of Baelor and the Starry Sept. The castle’s godswood contains three weirwoods known as the Three Singers. The palatial keep is decorated with statues and colonnades. Also within Highgarden’s walls are groves, fountains, and courtyards. The castle’s structures are covered in ivy, grapes, and climbing roses.
Highgarden is filled with flowers, singers, pipers, fiddlers and harpers. The stables have a fine selection of horseflesh, and there are pleasure boats to sail along the Mander. There are fields of golden roses that stretch as far as the eye can see. Fruits grown nearby include melons, peaches, and fireplums.
This image will be featured on my upcoming map of THE REACH.
Populating the Dothraki Sea, this horse is short, but stocky. They are valued for their exceptional hardiness and stamina, the only downside being their stout conformation, which makes them slower than most horses. These are the horses whose ancestors crossed the Bone Mountains with the Dothraki centuries ago.
It is said in Westeros that the greatest war horses come from the Reach, and from the Highgarden lines more specifically. Their muscular build, balanced gaits and bravery makes these horses extremely valuable. Their lines can be traced back to those horses which crossed the Narrow Sea with the Andals.
While the blood of the horses of the First Men is pure in the short, long-haired horses north of the Wall, kept by wildlings and the Night's Watch, but it is not gone in the North. There, the Ryswells first crossed their horses with those belonging to the Andals to produce a long-haired horse suitable for war.
The Dornish say that the Sand Steed can run for a day and a night and never tire. These are fiery, agile coursers whose speed and endurance is second to none. Known best for their long neck, narrow head and narrow, beautiful heads, these horses have been added to many lines on both sides of the Narrow Sea.
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙍𝙤𝙨𝙚
Chapter Four:
Casterly Rock was bustling with life. Servants rushed up and down the corridors, carrying banners, decorations, cleaning supplies. The Rock’s maids cleaned the guest rooms in the guest quarters of the castle, washing sheets and linen. In the kitchen was Genna Lannister, speaking in hushed tones with the head cook.
“My lady, I do not think we’ll be able to prepare all this food in such a short time.” The cook was a plump older woman with greying strands of hair mixed with her chestnut locks. Her eyes were slender and small, and she stood tall with her arms crossed over her stomach.
“Oh, I believe you will. Besides, you have all the ingredients you need to prepare the feast for the ball,” said Genna, a smile gracing her face as she stared at the cook with her green eyes. “Aye, my lady, we do. But I’m not worried about that, your ladyship. I’m more worried that we won’t have enough food to feed the guests after the ball, that is.”
Genna shook her head. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out Marcey, you are brilliant.” The way Genna Lannister complimented was strange indeed. The blonde Lannister made it sound as if she was patronizing you instead of giving you a compliment. Marcey shook her head and waved her hand. “Fine! But don’t complain to me when you lot are starving!” she muttered curses as she approached a few kitchen wenches, ordering them to gather up bowls and the necessary ingredients for the feast.
While Genna prepared Tyrion’s ball, Tyrion was in one of the hells of his own.
His blasted aunt decided it would be appropriate if he received some new garments for his name-day ball, so here he was. Standing on the tailor’s stool, letting the older gentleman measure his small stunted body as he lifted his arms up, waiting impatiently for this to be over.
He wanted to go down to the library and accompany the Maester of his home. He wanted to exchange ideas and knowledge about certain subjects he was interested in.
But alas, he was stuck here.
The young lion sighed and gave the short old man a glare as he measured his neck. The man smelled of sweat, sandalwood, and thread. His cerulean blue eyes were narrowed in concentration as he muttered about, writing the measurements down on his piece of parchment.
“My Lord, what textiles and color shall your new garments be?” Tyrion stepped off the stool and shrugged his shoulders. “I do not care about the textiles or color. I have no knowledge in that field of colors and textiles as you and my aunt have,” The man’s cheeks flushed, and he nodded his head saying a quiet “Of course, My Lord,” as he cleaned his station.
Tyrion waddled over to the window by his bed and looked out. The Sunset Sea was roaring and its waves crashed against the rocks and sands of the beach. The smell of salt and sea overwhelmed the young lion’s senses. His desire to feel the sand between his toes and hands grew more and more than he stared at the roaring waves. He wished he could sail with his beloved uncle, see the world for what it was. Explore Essos and stay in Mereen and experience the foreign land in its authentic form.
But as he stared into the deep blue waters, he felt his dreams and wishes fall through his fingers as sand did. He imagined himself trying to catch it and hold it close to his heart. His eyes grew in size as he thought about his forgotten and unattainable life. He would never be like his uncle. He would always be what he was, a dwarf who was lucky to bear the surname Lannister.
Tyrion shook his head, ridding the thoughts that swarmed in his mind. He sighed and ran a hand down his face in exasperation before he stopped mopping about. He grabbed a tome he borrowed from Maester Creylen and made his way out of his room.
Tyrion trekked down to The Stone Gardens where a twisted weirwood laid its roots. Though Tyrion was born in the light of the Seven and went to Mass and participated in the ritual costumes of the Seven, he was not religious in any way. He was like his father in that way. His Aunt Dorna, however, was a woman of strong faith. She participated in everything, prayed for everyone, and lit candles. So sitting in the godswood of the old gods of the North did nothing except influence his curiosity and fascination of being in the presence of the carved face tree.
He sat beneath the low branches at the base of the tree. He opened his tome, and began to read. He read for hours, letting the sun become low in the sky, while he hid away from the rest of the world. For the little lion held no interest in leaving his quiet place. Somewhere in the middle of his reading, he closed his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them, it was dark in the godswood. Only the dim light of the candles shone and provided him light. He stretched and yawned, waking his body up. He winced at the cramp he received from sitting on the ground for too long and stood up shakily. Slowly, getting used to using his legs, he stumbled a bit, before he found his footing and set off to his room.
He was passing The Hall of Heroes when he was assaulted by a hand clasped on his shoulder. He turned around, his mouth opening in protest, but closed when he saw who it was. His big brother, Jamie Lannister.
“Jamie!!” A smile spread across Tyrion’s face as he stared at his older brother. Jamie’s hair had grown since he last saw him. The last time Tyrion visited Jamie was when Cersei married Robert Baratheon. The dreadful affair was tiresome and Tyrion did not find the trip enjoyable.
“Little brother,” said Jamie affectionately, a smile gracing his handsome face. “Why are you here?” Tyrion asked, confusion laced in his words. Jamie laughed and shook his head. “Did you think I’d miss out on my favorite brother’s name day ball?” Tyrion pouted and gave him a pointed stare. “Oh chin up, Tyrion.”
Tyrion shook his head and together the brothers walked to the Lion’s Keep, where all the Lannister’s rooms and family were kept.
“How was your journey here?” Tyrion asked, tilting his head. Jamie sighed. “Wonderful, though I am tired. Shall we continue this conversation of how fair my journey was in the morning?” Jamie was exhausted, his soft green eyes were drowsy with sleep and he fought to keep his eyelids open.
“Of course, brother,” Jamie gave Tyrion a thankful smile. “Does father know you’re here?” the taller blonde shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I did not tell him in order to surprise everyone.”
“Aunt Genna will not be pleased,” teased Tyrion. Both brothers knew how angry their Aunt could get if people or things happened unannounced, that she did not have time to prepare. She was like a roaring lioness, angry that her kill got away.
“Yes, well, I bet once she’s done with her tongue lashing she’ll be overjoyed to see her dashing nephew,” said Jamie, flashing his smile in Tyrion’s direction. Tyrion snorted before nodding in agreement.
The brother’s stopped at Jamie’s old quarters. Tyrion bid his older brother a good night before heading off to his own room a couple of doors down, passing Cersei’s old room.
Once dressed and ready for bed, Tyrion blew out the candles in his room before climbing into bed, letting the moon’s light shine into his opened window, bathing him in its light. Tyrion stared at the dark, cold, ceiling. His thoughts were arrayed as he tried to prepare himself for the horror and torment that was soon to come before his eyes betrayed him and gave way to the consuming darkness of sleep.
