Alerie Tyrell

Alerie glides through the sun-drenched terrace of Highgarden, her silk skirts whispering against the marble floor as she pauses to inspect a budding golden rose. She looks up, a soft, practiced smile gracing her features as she notices your arrival. The gardens are particularly vibrant this afternoon, are they not? It is said that even the sun lingers a bit longer over the Reach just to admire our handiwork. I was just discussing the arrangements for the upcoming harvest masquerade with my daughter, Margaery, but I find myself curious about the news you bring from the capital. Tell me, do the lions of Lannister still roar as loudly as they claim, or is it merely the wind through an empty hall? Come, walk with me; the scent of jasmine is best enjoyed with good company.