Today was a good day for Willas. He had spent the morning with the newborn pups whelped by one of Highgarden's best bitches, and, although they were still too small to truely tell, several promised to be excellant dogs in their own right. Afterward he had joined Garlan for lunch, and insisted that they start a fox hunt. He knew Garlan was missing his pregnant wife's company on such hunts, and although he could no longer join boar hunts, and rarely joined fox hunts, as they were usually at the expense of his leg, he wanted to offer his brother a bit of happiness. Lady Leonette's pregnancy was still in the early stages, but the maester had insisted she forgo riding and other excercise . Today must be a very good day, though, because he was still able to walk with only a cane when his father sent for him late in the evening.
Lord Mace Tyrell's solar was in one of the highest towers of Highgarden, windows opening northwest to overlook the Mander. On clear days the mountains of the Westerlands could be seen on the horizon, and miles of the Roseroad and Ocean Road could be seen stretching into the distance. Not for the first time was Willas glad that his family has installed an elevator in the tower so that he would not need to walk up the many flights of stairs. Inside the solar a massive desk was arranged along the eastern wall, where Lord Tyrell sat, looking over a scroll in front of him, Maester Lomys at his side.
As Willas opened the door his father looked up, setting the scroll aside. "Ah, Willas, there you are. Come in, come in!" Mace hurried around the desk to adjust one of the chairs for him. "Here, sit!"
"Thank you," Willas settled in the chair without protest. He had long since learned that his father would insist on treating him as though he was fragile, no matter how much he improved or how he felt on that particular day. Mace hovered for a moment, waited for him to rest his cane against the chair before returning to his own seat.
"How is your leg after your hunt, Lord Willas?" Maester Lomys had more tact, and his worry was easier to calm.
"Surprisingly well. I only hope I don't want tomorrow regreting saying so."
"You know that I've been considering the future of House Tyrell, of late?" Mace asked, smiling broadly.
Loras had been conspiring with Renly Baratheon to marry Margaery to the king, Willas knew. The king setting aside Cersei Lannister would lead to a war, and he would prefer Margaery not be in the center of it. Neither did Renly Baratheon speak well of his brother's treatment of his lady wife. He also knew his father well enough to know that he would never consent to the marriage unless he was certain that Margaery would be queen, and not merely another of King Robert's whores.
"Have you finally found someone worthy of Margaery's hand?"
"The only one worthy of Margaery is the crown prince," Mace insisted.
"The boy is only three years younger than her, and it would bind the Reach to the crown," Willas agreed, shifting to take more of his weight on his good leg, "it would be a good match."
"Which is why I want to talk to you about Sansa Stark."
"Lord Stark's eldest daughter?"
"Yes. I fear she's Prince Joffrey's best marriage prospect. She's the niece of the woman King Robert was betrothed to marry and the daughter of the his dear friend, as well as the same age as the prince. However, if the Stark girl's hand is taken then Margaery is the obvious choice." Mace was beaming, obviously pleased with his newest plan.
"Lord Stark isn't a fool, he must know that his daughter might be queen. Loras is close to her age, but is a third son,and I am ten years her senior." Mace may not care about the age gap, but most lords did. From what little he had heard of Lord Stark, Willas did not think he would disregard it for the sake of power.
"What other marriage prospects does she have? The Martells' heir is a girl, Renly and Lord Tywin's son are of an age with you, the Arryn boy is too young, and Edmure Tully is her cousin. If Lord Stark is so set on a royal marriage, he does have a second daughter only three years younger than Prince Joffrey."
Willas decided against reminding his father that if Lord Stark found no other betrothal he would have his bannermen lining up for the chance to marry their leige lord's daughter. "So you mean to offer my hand to her, and make Sansa Stark the Lady of Highgarden in hopes that King Robert will prefer the maiden three years older than the one three years younger?"
"He could marry the younger prince or the princess to one of Lord Stark's children, but the better prospect is to ally with the Reach than to renew the alliance with the North."
His father had a point. Marriages between young maidens and older lords were common, and even ten years wasn't so extreme that it would be frowned upon. "The wedding would have to be put off for a year or two, the girl is only sixteen."
"Lord Stark is an honorable man. So long as the betrothal is in place he will not break it. And I am told Lady Sansa takes after her mother in looks: fair skin, Tully red hair, and blue eyes." Mace dismissed his concerns.
Willas had never had a bastard, but he had to wonder if it had escaped his father's notice that he had courted of his own accord Meredyth Crane, Rebekka Rowan, and Amlyn Ambrose, all of whom styled their dark hair in ringlets and had eyes of onyx. He had never pursued a daughter of the Riverlands. "If Lord Stark agrees to the betrothal you could invite Lady Sansa to Highgarden. I would like to know her beyond merely her name if we are to be married."
"I doubt Lord Stark would refuse, the future Lady of Highgarden needs to know Highgarden as well as any daughter born of House Tyrell."
"Was there anything else? Grandmother is expecting me within the hour."
"No, that was all. I will inform you when Lord Stark's reply arrives." Willas stood, bracing himself on his cane, and said nothing when Maester Lomys moved to open the door for him.
His grandmother's rooms were in the traditional Tyrell family quarters, but rather than taking the skyway he took the longer way. After his leg had been crushed multiple elevators had been installed ithin Highgarden, to enable him to reach the important rooms even if he had never been able to leave his wheelchair. All were styled after the one within Casterly Rock, and had been built by a man from the Westerlands. They had cost quite a lot, but less than moving every important place within HIghgarden to the ground floor. The only issue was that he had to go all the way to the ground floor, then walk across the courtyard and enter a different one. It took far longer than walking across the skyway, but also saved his leg the strain of the stairs.
When he entered her study, Lady Olenna was already attended by Margaery and Lady Leonette. Margaery still wore her riding gear from the fox hunt, but Garlan's wife's had been there longer. She wore a loose dress and a beautiful rose-red headwrap, and was sipping from a cup of tea.
"Willas," his grandmother frowned at him, "there you are. What did my son have to say?"
"Father wanted to ask my opinion about a marriage offer," Willas said. He took the chair next to Margaery, easing himself down as she poured him a cup of tea.
"Who am I to marry now?" Margaery asked.
"Prince Joffrey. To facilitate your marriage, I am to marry Sansa Stark."
Margaery looked to their grandmother, frowning, "Lord Stark has two daughters. What prevents him from making one Lady of Highgarden and the other Queen of the Seven Kingdoms?"
"You, my dear. Your father will rely on you to convince Prince Joffrey that you are a better marriage prospect than a Stark." His grandmother's laugh was grating and harsh. "It would not be an incorrect assessment. Daughters of the First Men have a certain wild beauty about them, but know nothing of politics."
"Kingdoms have been lost for Stark girls," Leonette said.
"Kingdoms have been lost for barefoot peasant girls who called themselves witches," Lady Olenna scoffed, "men are fools for a pretty girl."
"I'm told that Lady Sansa takes after her mother's Tully blood." Willas would have to find out more about her, it was likely there were traders who had visited White Harbor and would have heard of or seen the girl. It wouldn't be overly difficult to find out.
"In looks, perhaps," Lady Olenna reached up to brush a bit of her hair out of her face and back into her the downy cloud of hair, mostly black with traces of grey," but the girl will still be a Stark when it comes to her knowledge of politics. Were I King Robert I'd sooner marry my son to a Rosby than a Stark."
Margaery laughed, "Grandmother, if you were King Robert you would have married Prince Joffrey to Daenerys Targaryen and bound the realm together by blood."
Grandmother scoffed, but did not object to the suggestion.
"If Lord Stark agrees to the betrothal Lady Sansa will be invited to Highgarden for a year or two so that she might learn our customs," Willas interupted. "She may be ill-informed, but I doubt the girl lacks a formal education. She can be taught all she needs to know."
All of his life his mother had been considered second to the Queen of Thorns, even after his father was Lord of Highgarden. The servants came to her to confirm how much wine to purchase and the high lord's wives catered favor with her. If he was to marry Sansa Stark, he wanted her to be Lady of Highgarden in more than name when the time came. His grandmother was clever and wise, and he would listen to her counsel so long as she would give it, but he did not want a wife his grandmother thought so incompetent as to be unwilling to give up her position. Nor did he want a wife willing to be forgotten in her own household.
Lady Olenna sighed, and reached for her cup of tea, white with a ring of green hands around the rim. "For all our sakes, let us hope so."