Thank you so much for the response so far for this story, I was so worried that nobody would like it. I am worried about future chapters and that the quality of my writing will go down, but I'm hopeful you like it anyway.

Hope this answers who the Rose is for you all, I really like this person as a character and I'm curious to explore them more. Next two chapters you will find out the other two characters.

Thank you all so much for the support.

II

WILLAS

A waxed envelope sat on the desk in front of him. "This is what you wished to show me?" He asked after he finished reading the letter.

"Yes," the servant stared at the heir to Highgarden.

"And this is why my father left?" He gritted his teeth, "Because he intends to marry off my widowed sister to the boy king." He rubbed his chin, "And where is my grandmother?"

"In the gardens, my Lord," the servant gazed down at the carpeted ground beneath their feet. "Do you wish for me to send for her?"

"No," he held out his hand. "I will search for her."

Pushing himself up, he wobbled and reached over to his walking stick and grasped it tightly. It was made of only the finest wood found in Highgarden, with a golden rose placed on the top. He wobbled slightly, as he always did, but regained his strength and began to limp toward the door. It would take him a while to search for his grandmother, but he needed to stretch his legs and his mind was a whirlwind. His father was so ambitious, but it bothered him the way he used Margaery to achieve those ambitions.

Willas smiled at those he passed, as he was known for being king. That was from his mother's side, his grandmother claimed. Alerie Hightower was known for being rather kind, she was a wonderful mother but his grandmother claimed she was not suited to be a lady. He made his way down the steps from his tower, grasping tight to the railing that had been installed for him. It took one step at a time, placing his good leg down on one step first, then his bad leg on the step after. He was slow, but he had to be careful.

Once he was down from the steps, he continued to limp toward the wide, open doors that would lead him to the gardens. The white stone that covered the ground was always kept clean, it was cleaned daily by the servants of the castle. Highgarden had to be sparkling, not a piece of dirt could be found. If dirt was found, it would ruin the pristine beauty that Olenna Tyrell and those before her had worked to cultivate. Willas headed toward the stairs that led to one of the smaller gardens, the gardens his grandmother often frequented.

Pushing his fingers through his hair, Willas came around the maze of roses to the middle. His grandmother sat in the middle, eat in hand with all sorts of cakes that surrounded her. She was alone which was not unusual, if she was not with his sister, his father or himself she was in her own solitude. Olenna Tyrell enjoyed being with herself, Willas gathered it was because dealing with others was growing tiring for her in her old age. He moved further into the centre of the garden, coming to stand in front of the white table and chairs his grandmother was seated at.

"Willas," his grandmother's voice was cool as she greeted him. "What brings you to my gardens?"

"Father intends to marry Margaery to King Joffrey," Willas leaned against his walking stick.

"Yes, he does," Olenna Tyrell said carefully. "It is rather ambitious of your father. Margaery already wed one king, and to marry another…"

"He should be grateful the Lannisters do not strike him down," Willas was careful with his words. "But they will not."

"No, they will not," his grandmother agreed. "Tea?"

"Please," he said as he pulled out the seat opposite her and sat, leaning his walking stick against the table.

"The Lannisters are not stupid enough to slight us," his grandmother said. "Even Cersei Lannister would not deny Margaery marry Joffrey."

"They need all the support they can get," Willas murmured.

"Yes, they have lost much support," Olenna offered him his cup of tea which he sipped.

"Will you go with them?"

"I would not miss such an opportunity," Olenna smiled. "You will not come?"

"No," Willas shook his head. "I will stay."

"Of course," Olenna's voice was cool as she leaned back in her seat. "I am not surprised."

"It is expected," he smirked at his grandmother.

"And how is Dorne?" Olenna asked before taking a sip of her tea.

"Well," he answered casually. "Dorne will attend the wedding of Joffrey and Margaery," Willas told her. "I do not think they would miss it."

"I must agree," Olenna leaned back in her seat. "It is a shame the Starks will miss it."

"One Stark will be there," he reminded his grandmother. "Lady Sansa Stark."

"Yes, their delicate little prisoner," Olenna smiled. "I look forward to meeting her. I think she would make you a lovely bride, do you agree?"

"She is a child, Grandmother," he rolled his eyes.

"But a lovely child, so the reports say," Olenna leaned back. "And I am told she has flowered. It is time you took a bride, Willas."

"Grandmother," his voice was heavy. "There is a time for marriage, and it is not now."

"Now is a perfect time for weddings," Lady Olenna chastised. "When we need allies the most, it is important to gain those allies through marriage."

"And are we not tying ourselves to the crown?" Willas rose a groomed, dark brow. "That should be enough allies for us, we are, after all, in bed with the Lannisters now."

"Yes, it is not ideal," Olenna picked up a little cake, biting into it and swallowing before speaking again. "I would much rather the Lannister shits die, but the Young Wolf failed at did Loras's Renly, so it is not as if we have much choice."

"Unfortunately," Willas blinked slowly. "But where did Father get this misguided idea that Margaery would make the bastard a good queen?"

His grandmother blinked innocently, "I do not know where your father would get such an idea."

"No, of course not," his voice was cool as he breathed in the flowery scent of the garden.

"Margaery would make a good queen," his grandmother attempted to convince him. "And we need some power, especially with the state of things."

"Yes," he leaned back in his seat. "Westeros has been led into a mess."

"That boy never should have cut off Ned Stark's head," Olenna clicked her tongue. "Then the Wolf Boy would never have thought to rise up against the crown."

"Perhaps Cersei Lannister should never have fucked her brother," Willas said casually as he sipped his tea. "Then my sister would not have to marry a bastard."

"We do not know if it is true."

"Grandmother, please," Willas snorted. "We both know that it is true."

"Suppose so, but who else are we supposed to support?" Olenna raised a brow, "The girl with the dragons across the Narrow Sea?"

"She is the true heir to the throne," he thought to remind her. "When do you leave for King's Landing? How long will it be before Margaery quickens with his child?"

"You know I would never let it get that far," his grandmother cooed. "If all goes well, Margaery will not stay married to that little monster for very long."

"Treasonous words."

"Perhaps," she tilted her head toward him. "But do you agree?"

"I agree," he said carefully. "I do not wish to go to King's Landing. I never want to step foot in that pit of snakes, ever again. Do you understand me?"

"I understand you," his grandmother leaned against the chair. "You are to stay in Highgarden, we need a Tyrell here."

"Yes," he paused and placed his empty cup down on the saucer. "I hope you will enjoy your trip to King's Landing. I do believe that you will thrive there, Grandmother."

"Then you know me well," she looked up as two guards entered the gardens. "Ser Gerold, Ser Allastair," his grandmother pushed herself up to her two feet. "Are you here to escort me to the buffoon that is my son?"

"Yes, my Lady," Ser Gerold then bowed toward Willas. "My Lord."

"Sers," Willas pushed himself to his feet, grasping the walking stick. "Does my father also have need of me?"

"No," Ser Allastair answered. "But Lady Alerie and Lady Margaery have requested your presence."

"Well, perhaps I should see to them," he limped over to his grandmother. He brushed a kiss to her forehead, nodded at the two men and turned to limp away.

Willas's thoughts turned to the dangerous game they were playing, sending Margaery to King's Landing to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. He did not believe that any good would come from the choices they were making. But Willas had to trust his grandmother, the Queen of Thorns, she would protect them. He continued to limp out of the gardens, toward the keep where he would find his mother and sister. Margaery was probably excited, while Renly had been handsome he had also loved their brother. Margaery would have control over her new husband.

His mother and sister could be found in one of the parlour rooms, taking their afternoon tea. His mother, Alerie Hightower, was dressed in a high neck. Her dress was a light-yellow colour that complimented her light brown hair and her hazel eyes. Her hair was pinned up, several loose curls hung around her face and her neck but his mother was still as lovely as ever. Their mother was where Margaery received her soft beauty from, but Margaery received her personality from their grandmother. Perhaps the only one who was as kind as their mother was Garland.

"Mother, Margaery," he said as he entered, smiling at them both. He then limped over to his mother, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple.

"My dear Willas," his mother reached out to grasp his free hand. "Please have a seat."

"Where were you Willas?" Margaery asked, a perfectly arched, dark brown brow raised.

"With Grandmother," he answered as he sat down, his mother helping him by grasping his walking stick.

"Ah," Margaery bit down on a lemon cake. "And how did that go?"

"Wonderful, as always," he smiled at his little sister. "You are to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. It seems Father's dreams for his only daughter will be realised."

"Yes," Margaery's long, delicate lashes fluttered. "I cannot be happier."

"I cannot believe my daughter will be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms," his mother's voice was breathless. "It seems only yesterday your father struggled against Robert Baratheon in the rebellion, our support for the Targaryens misguided. We have fought to be taken seriously, to let them know House Tyrell is an ally. And now our daughter will be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, this is an honour…" his mother seemed almost brought to tears by the line his father had no doubt spouted to his mother constantly since the betrothal had been announced.

Willas looked to his sister who was staring down at the little cakes on her plate. His sister was wearing a dress of light blue that was very low cut, he thought it inappropriate that his sister wore such a thing. But it was the fashion of the South. Her hair was dark brown and left curly, half of it was piled on top of her head and the other half loose. Her big brown eyes surrounded by thick lashes did not move from the plate of her cakes.

"Yes, an honour," his sister then looked up with a smile. Her dimples in her cheeks were revealed, but he knew that it was a fake smile. His sister knew her duty, but like most girls she dreamed of dashing knights and love when she had been a child.

"You will do us proud," Lady Alerie reached over the table, grasping her daughter's hand lovingly. "Garland is already married, Loras intends to be a member of the Kingsguard. I suppose it is time for you to be married Willas, I am sure we will find a suitable bride for you in King's Landing."

"I am sure you will," he did not sound sure.

"How goes your breeding?" His mother asked suddenly and Willas met her hazel eyes, that were much like his own.

"It is well," he answered. "Several of my horses will be foaling soon, and several of the hounds will be ready to whelp."

"We are proud of you," Alerie reached out to grasp her son's hand. "You may not be the warrior or knight your brothers are, but you have shown your resilience and your strength as an heir of Highgarden."

"Mother," he studied her. "Please, there is no need for you to sing me praises."

"You know she cannot help herself," Margaery finally picked up one of her little cakes, biting down on the sweet. "Would you like one?" His sister held up her plate, "I've noticed you staring at them."

"Thank you," he then reached over to grasp a lemon cake, taking a bite out of the tarty sweet.

"There are still days before we leave," his mother said suddenly. "But there is still much that needs to be done to ensure we are prepared for what King's Landing will bring to us."

Willas looked around the solar, at the décor and the furniture that surrounded them. Willas, his mother and his sister were sitting on a set of chairs at a table in front of the large, bay window that overlooked the gardens. His eyes then turned from the Myrish lace curtains to the walls that were painted a pale-yellow colour, his mother's favourite colour. She had paintings hung on the wall, most of the paintings were that of flowers and few were family portraits, of himself and his siblings as his mother liked to surround herself with her children.

When she was granted grandchildren, Willas could almost imagine the amount of joy his mother would hold. As Garland was the only one married, he was more likely to give their parents grandchildren before Willas. Loras was unlikely to marry, he had lost his lover Renly and did not find females appealing – which was why he wanted to become part of the Kingsguard. Margaery would marry King Joffrey Baratheon, and her duty would be to give him his heir and as many spares as possible – but his mother would unlikely see her daughter's grandchildren often.

Willas came to rest his hand on the thigh of his bad leg, there was still an aching pain that came and went in his leg, near a decade after the accident had occurred. But as his mother had said, Willas had been doing well for himself despite the injury. He had managed to remain as heir of Highgarden, but there was really nothing wrong with him except for his leg – therefore he would be able to father heirs. He had made a successful business in breeding hawks, hounds and horses that brought money into Highgarden, making the Tyrells richer.

His grandmother was most proud.

"Leonette, darling," his mother announced and Willas turned his head.

His goodsister, Leonette, had entered the room. She wore a dress the colour of sunflowers, her brown hair was curled beautiful and hung down her back. She wore a few flowers in her hair and her eyes were bright, she was much smaller than Margaery with a heart shaped face. Willas had always thought his goodsister to be a great match to his carefree older brother. The two of them were kind and loving, they were not ashamed to show how much they loved each other in front of others.

"Lady Alerie," Leonette said as she came to sit in the only available seat around the table. "Margaery, Willas," she nodded at the two of them.

"What brings you here, my dear?" Alerie asked, reaching over to touch Leonette's hand, grasping it lightly.

"I thought to come for tea," Leonette looked down at the table. "I had not realised that your tea would be over."

"We can bring in some more," Lady Alerie went to motion to one of the guards but was stopped by Leonette.

"Oh no, my Lady," Leonette shook her head. "There is no need. I have come to share gossip, however."

"Gossip, rather exciting," his mother grinned and turned to smile at Margaery. "It is rather exciting, is it not?"

"Yes, Mother," Margaery turned to smile at her goodsister who was only a year older than her. "I do wish to hear this gossip."

"Lord Willas," Leonette looked directly at him, smiling wide. "Do you also wish to hear the gossip?"

"No," he pushed himself into a seating position. He then grasped his walking stick, nodding at the ladies. "I will excuse myself now, it was good to speak with you, Mother, Margaery. Good day," he nodded and turned to limp out of the doorway.

The gossip would be unimportant, Willas gathered. Leonette would receive gossip through Garland who loved to gossip himself, most of the gossip would be about the Reach. Willas continued to limp, heading toward the stables so he could check on his horses that were close to foaling. He nodded at his men as he hurried along the dirt track toward the stables, a hedge ran along each side of the trail. He breathed in deeply, breathing in the fresh air as he moved closer to the stables.

"My Lord," one of the stablemasters nodded at him. "One of them is close."

"Which one?" Willas asked as he followed the man who walked slower for his lord.

"The Lady Daffodil," his man explained as they made their way into the stables. He could hear the cries of his horse, "We believe the foal should come by tonight."

"Then it appears I have a long night ahead of me," Willas said, "Tell one of your boys to bring me a chair."

"Of course, my Lord," the man then called for a young boy and Willas settled in to watch his horse.

The nights were getting longer, Willas was reminded of the words of House Stark Winter is Coming. Perhaps it was true as he pulled his coat around himself, the nights were longer and much colder than they had been many moons ago. As he breathed out, he noticed the air slip from his mouth and he could see it. He was performing his nightly ritual of going for a walk, taking his time to walk around the grounds of Highgarden. It was something he had done since he had been able to walk after his accident, his mother had never approved but he did not need her permission.

As he continued to walk down the familiar path to the largest gardens in Highgarden, he thought he heard his name whispered. Willas turned his head quickly, furrowing his brows as he paused his walking. He was frozen in place; the gardens were silent and the air seemed still. Though there was a chill in the air, there was something unusual about the silence. Willas then continued to move, limping and grasping his walking stick even tighter. It felt as if he was being watched… perhaps he should have brought a guard with him.

He thought he heard someone call his name, walking faster he thought to walk toward the area where he could swear someone was calling his name. He limped faster, pushing himself to get closer to where he could swear someone was calling his name. When he came around the corner, he found himself pausing when he noticed he was nearing the weirwood trees. They were of the Old Gods, nobody in the Reach followed the Old Gods any longer – instead they followed the Faith of the Seven, which was a more popular religion in the South.

Willas thought it strange that he was walking toward the oldest weirwood. He had never spent time with the weirwoods before, they were hidden in the oldest part of the gardens and had not been torn down. None of them had ever spent time there, his father and grandmother often looked down on those that followed the Old Gods. Much of the South thought themselves superior to those who still worshipped the Old Gods. Willas had never thought of them, he did not worship the Faith of the Seven much either, he had no time for religion in his life.

As he made his way toward the weirwood, the largest in the group, Willas gazed up at it. Staring at the dark leaves, studying the tree as he looked down toward the face. He had always thought it odd there were faces carved into the trees, but he guessed that was with the people of the North prayed to the trees. He blinked at the tree, wondering why something had urged him to come to the old woods. Willas pressed his lips together tightly, turning to head back to the keep when he heard his name again. It was much closer and it sent shivers up his spine.

"Who goes there?" He demanded.

But there was silence in answer.

"I said," his voice became harsher, "Who goes there?"

The wind blew through the trees, blowing around his face and his hair. He received no answer, Willas narrowed as he stared into the dark.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, clenching his hand tightly around the top of his walking stick. "What do you want from me?" His voice boomed, echoing through the quiet of the gardens as he then turned to look right back at the face in the weirwood tree.

Willas then placed his hand on the tree and his body arched, his head was thrown out and a scream erupted from his lips. Willas then proceeded to buckled, kneeling was not his preferred position as it put much strain on his bad leg. His hand had dropped from the tree and he was gasping, staring up at the tree and ignoring the strain in his legs. What was going on? He stared at the tree and blinked slowly, he then decided to reach out as if to place his hand on the tree again but stopped himself.

"Willas," the whisper became clear and he turned his head.

"Who goes there?" He growled, pushing himself to his feet. He grasped his walking stick and found himself leaning against the tree. "Who is out there?"

"The Gods of Old," the whisper seemed so loud in his ear but there was nothing around him. "There is much to be done, Willas Tyrell. There will be many opportunities for you."

"What?" He forgot his propriety and he frowned. But when the Old Gods spoke to you, what emotions and actions were one supposed to use? His heart pounded in his chest.

"You have a duty," something whispered in his ear. "A duty to the Gods of Old, to yourself and to the true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms."

"What?" Willas repeated, his brows rose. "The true ruler?" He grimaced.

"Lord Willas!" He heard shouts, "Lord Willas!"

"The Bear will come… and you will head to the Sun, where you must also find the sword."

The whisper faded, leaving Willas without answers. "Lord Willas," one of the knights burst out from behind the trees. "We have been looking for you, we have been gone for hours."

"Hours?" He blinked at the knights who followed after the first one.

"Yes," the knights all shared look. "The Lady Olenna sent us to find you."

"Then we should be getting back to the Keep," Willas looked back at the weirwood, frowning. Why were the Old Gods speaking to him? They were not his Gods.

"Yes, Lord Willas," the guards helped to guide Willas through the gardens back to the keep.

When he arrived, his mother immediately embraced him. "Oh Willas," she cried, "We were so worried. You have missed dinner."

Had he really been gone for so long? "Apologies, Mother," he told her, staring down into her eyes. "I had not known the time had passed so quickly."

"Well, come along," his mother urged. "It is a rather cold night, the hearth has been lit. Come, you must be cold."

He was led into one of the larger rooms, placed in a seat by the roaring fire as his family watched him with concern. "Thank you," he said as food was placed down in front of him.

"Where did you go?" His father demanded, double chin shaking.

"I found myself near the weirwoods," he said as he moved to sip his wine.

"The weirwoods?" His father was incredulous, "Why would you go there of all places?"

"I do not know," he frowned, would his family find it strange he thought something was calling to him?

His grandmother moved to sit down in the seat in front of him, placing her hands on her stomach. "We should have had the old things ripped up long ago."

"No," he then said, shaking his head. "We shouldn't rip them up. They have their place."

"We do not worship the Gods who live among them," his mother spoke up from behind his grandmother. "There is no need for us to have those trees, Willas."

"But I do not think they need to be ripped up, Mother."

His mother appeared displeased, "We have no need for those trees. Lady Olenna is right, Willas."

He looked toward his grandmother, "I believe they should stay."

"Fine," his grandmother waved her hand. "I suppose that is what the heir to Highgarden demands."

"Mother," Mace Tyrell shook his head. "Those trees should be ripped up at the root."

"And your son, and heir, has demanded they should not," Olenna placed her hands on the arm rests, pushing herself to her feet. "As he is the future of this house, I think we should listen to his demands."

Mace Tyrell only gritted his teeth together, "And you also wish to revert us back to the Old Gods, son?"

"No, Father," Willas scowled up at his father, turning to look at the plate of food in front of him. "I just think that those trees should not be removed. They have an importance here."