Home. That was all Ryon had been thinking about for years, and now it was there. Goldengrove's tall white towers rising proudly against the sky, surrounded by a sea of fiery fields and the calm blue waters of the river running by it, whispering a welcoming song to the travellers.

It had been ten years since the Lord and Lady of Goldengrove had been in their seat. Ten years in which the unfulfilled promise of retiring amidst their grandchildren had been a thorn in Ryon's heart. And now there he was, observing the place that every Rowan before him had called home. The singers could say whatever they pleased about Highgarden, the Rock and the Eyrie, for to him that was the most beautiful and dearest place in the world and he needed none other.

Behind the gates hid a small nuisance, as he found out that his sons, unaware of his arrival, had left for Ashford to visit Alyce. Yet he had been waiting for a decade, and a couple months were nothing compared to that.

With a wide smile accentuating the wrinkles in his worn face, he kissed his wife and made his way to the the golden grove, eager to greet his ancestors after so long.