Author's Note: What? Another chapter so quickly? Blame it entirely on the force that is Olenna Tyrell in my head. She wanted her say.

Olenna Tyrell hated travelling with her oaf of a son, too much like his father by half. Oh, she cared for him, of course, all mothers do, but she could not be overly affectionate with such a lump of stupidity. He had gone against her advice, siding with Renly Baratheon, because he couldn't stand up to his own son. That would have been fine, if Renly had a single claim on the throne, or Loras had been thinking with the head on his shoulders as she had tried to teach him when all he wanted to do was play with swords and sticks. Instead, the Grand Oaf of Highgarden had been led further into a folly by a boy being led around by his cock, and had lost Olenna her most precious rose.

At first, Olenna had thought that Margaery had taken leave of her senses when she had figured out what the girl had done. Soon enough, however, she saw the lay of the land, especially after the capture of Tywin Lannister. The entire kingdom had buzzed for weeks about how Stark had come in the night, captured Tywin, and left not a trace. The heralded commander, the grizzled old lion himself taken from his tent, without a drop of blood being spilt. It had endeared Robb Stark to the people of Westeros, and from Dorne northward everyone spoke in whispers about the Young Wolf. Men and women talked about how like his father he was, honourable and steadfast and refusing to shed unnecessary blood. Some claimed him to have supernatural power,who had been able to slip in and out of the Lannister encampment and bewitch everyone into sleep. Olenna dismissed these. She saw a far more subtle and human hand in this. Margaery would have needed them to cross the Trident, and Northmen were not known for their subtlety.

Olenna had heard all the way at Bitterbridge, how the monstrous Lion-King had roared, had stomped his feet, demanding Robb Stark's head on a platter. He had very nearly killed his estranged fiancee, before his mother had stepped in, reminding him that Sansa Stark was a valuable hostage. That had only dampened his rage, and he had taken it out on the people singing and speaking of the Young Wolf who sought to free them from the golden lions and the cruel stags. It was stupid. The boy would never get the people on his side in such a way.

She had suspected the Young Wolf to be just as stupid, and when Mace had sent his message to him, she had expected Northmen to come marching down to the Mander as though Mace had offered free ale at a brothel. Either Robb Stark was less stupid than most of his gender, or he actually listened to cooler heads. Catelyn Tully had always been dull, but not stupid. Perhaps this son listened to his mother. Hers would have been far better off if he wasn't such a self-confident lush who was sure he knew better than his dear mother, after all.

Finally the wheelhouse came to a stop, and Mace was useful for once as he helped her from the carriage. The war-camp surrounding Riverrun was immense, with standards and sigils flying, but she did not see the golden rose anywhere. It was a mystery, at least until they were greeted by a knight. Olenna didn't know his name, he had been a fourth son of one of the Houses of the Reach, and while stable and stalwart, generally unimpressive in tourney. Mace didn't seem to recognise him at all, probably due to the fact that there wasn't a sigil or identifying colour on him. He never did his own ruling, leaving petitioners to Willas and the Maester.

"Lord Mace, Lady Olenna. I have been asked to take you and yours to the Great Hall. I'm afraid there is a war council going on, but I was told to take you and your seniors there as soon as you arrived." The Reach knight said, with a deep bow.

"The king could have at least been here to meet us." Mace grumbled, gesturing for Loras and Randyll Tarly to follow him, as he followed the knight.

"Don't be ridiculous." Olenna snapped. "A man waging a war has more to concern himself with than guests that stand on ceremony."

Margaery was frustrated, the war council had been going on for hours, and she would like nothing more than to shove Lord Tallhart's dagger up his nose. The Ironborn had struck along the coast of the North, and many of the lords were panicking.

"We need to ransom the Lannisters and head back north to defend our homes!" Lord Cerwyn was saying. "We can't do nothing!"

"I've already sent my best sailors to Rillwater Crossing to see what ships the Glenmores might have had that we can use against the Ironborn." Margaery argued. "We can't ransom the Lannisters yet, or leave Riverrun undefended!"

"What's southerners know about fighting the Ironborn?" Tallhart argued.

Margaery resisted the urge to tell the man he was an idiot. "The Shield Islands are often attacked by the Ironborn. We know how to deal with them."

"Didn't fare too well during the Robert's Rebellion." Theon argued. "The Ironborn took them easily." He turned to Robb. "Look, let me go. They'll listen to me. I can broker peace with my father."

Robb groaned, running a hand over his head. "Theon, I've Jon at the wall. I need you here with me. I need a brother I can trust at my back, and I need you in command of the archers."

Theon shook his head. "That's just it, Robb, I'm not your brother, I'm the eldest surviving son and heir of Balon Greyjoy. I can get my father to stop this."

"We don't know that Balon is still in control." Margaery pointed out. "It could be Euron or Victarion doing the raids."

"And if it is the old squid, he's doing it whether you're on the mainland or not!" Maege pointed out. "As far as he knows, the king could send him your head for this, and he's done it anyway!"

Olenna held up a hand when the unknown knight would have announced them, settling in beside her son and grandson to watch for a moment. She wanted to see what this boy had, and this was a good way to do it. Unfortunately, the large direwolf at his feet barked, causing everyone to look up.

"Lord Mace Tyrell, Lady Olenna Tyrell, and Ser Loras Tyrell of House Tyrell of Highgarden and Lord Randyll Tarly of House Tarly, Your Grace." The knight said with a bow.

"Your Grace," Mace said, bowing in the most overexaggerated manner he could with his girth. Olenna bowed her head, supporting herself more than necessary on her cane. "Thank you for seeing us."

"Welcome, my lords." The King in the North said, with a confident nod. "I was intrigued by your raven, Lord Tyrell."

"I have many men, Your Grace." Mace said easily. "Good fighters with skill on the battlefield, The Reach offers many resources that you may need, food for your soldiers, not the least thereof."

"I have seen Tyrell men on the battlefield, and I do grant that they are quite skilled." Robb allowed. "And food and men are always welcome, but what would you want from this, Lord Tyrell?"

"With The North, The Riverlands, and the strength of The Reach, your army would be unstoppable, Your Grace. Joffrey is...disturbed, and Stannis in the thrall of a Red Priestess who burns people alive. They would ruin Westeros." He tilted his head in askance. "I would hope that we could create an alliance on more than words, and that you would remember us. I humbly offer up my daughter's hand."

There was a loud snort from somewhere among the assembled lords, Olenna suspected Greatjon Umber, and a chuckle ran through a few of them at that, making her raise an eyebrow in interest.

"Your offer is generous, my Lord." The young king said, a little wryly. "And were it your place to make it, I would probably accept."

Mace froze, as though the king's northern winter had entered the room in a torrent. "Your Grace?" He managed.

"Lady Margaery came north and made it possible for us to cross Ruby Ford and capture Tywin Lannister. The men she brought with her have fought and died for the north, and as such she was given Rillwater Crossing, and she and her people made the northern House Tyrell, and being independent of Highgarden, her hand is not yours to offer." Robb explained, hands wide, as if he could not help that Mace had been too late. "I was in debt for her aid, and could hardly leave her without House or home."

Olenna had thought that in her old age she had seen everything, but this shocked even her. She felt strangely proud and still somewhat disappointed in her granddaughter. If only she had waited...but if she had, well, who knew where they would be now? At least now she understood why the knight who had introduced them had stressed Highgarden, there was a new House Tyrell.

"What?!" Mace demanded, his face going redder than his beard as his chins shook. "I've never heard of such a thing! The outrage! My daughter is a daughter of Highgarden! The Rose of the South!"

There was a shift in the back of the war council, and Olenna's eyes narrowed in inspection as Margaery stood, her hair done much more simply, in a sort of melding of northern and southern styles, dressed in a white and blue dress. "I'm afraid I've changed my petals, Father." She said, carefully, "but thank you for the thought."

Mace took a few red-faced, angry steps toward the group, only to be stopped when the direwolf by the king got to its feet, lowered it' head, and growled at him. All the blood rushed from his face and he took several steps back. "We'll meet in battle for this offense!" Mace said, still retreating. "We can still side with the Lannisters!"

Loras reacted to that violently, shaking his head and turning on his father. "I will not raise a sword against my sister!"

Mace turned on his son, then. "You'll do what I tell you, boy! I listened when you said we should side with Renly, and now look where we are!"

"Oh, be silent you old fool!" Olenna snapped, done with letting her son handle this meeting in such a fashion. She should have nursed him herself, perhaps he'd be less of an encumbrance. She preferred not to correct him quite so publicly, but she couldn't let his pricked pride control the future of her descendants.

"Mother!" Mace gasped in shock.

"Don't 'Mother,' me. I'm not about to let you run House Tyrell into ruin because of your pride." Olenna snapped. "I told you allying with Renly was a fool's errand, but you didn't listen. You wanted a crown for Margaery and now you've lost your youngest rose."

"Grandmother…" Margaery said, in a placating tone.

"Don't coddle the man, Margaery." Olenna snapped. "I coddled him too much in his boyhood."

The old woman straightened up slightly on her cane, and with a bow, asked in a calm, polite tone, so unlike her earlier outburst, that some might think they had imagined it. "What do you see for an alliance, Your Grace?"

Robb smiled at the older woman. Even with the warnings, Olenna Tyrell had surprised him. He could see why Margaery looked up to her, though he was glad Margaery's sharp edges had never turned on him in such a manner. He had been considering his plan since the night Mace's raven first arrived, meditating over it in his spare time and during his trips to the godswood for guidance. "I believe, Lady Tyrell, that a king should be known to his people, and know them in turn, much as any good lord. As such, I have no interest in the Iron Throne, or the other five kingdoms. Two is the most that I can possibly rule in a way that befits a true king."

Olenna's eyes narrowed, and Robb knew, however infirm she looked, her mind was tighter than a steel trap hidden in the snow. "Should The Reach ally with us, give us men and fight the war of independence with us, The Kingdoms of the North and the Trident will recognise Lord Mace or Lord Willas as King of the Reach, and aid in any way we can to ensure it retains its independence as well. We will have open trade between our kingdoms, providing aid in surviving the coming winter for both of us."

"At what cost?" Olenna asked, eyes narrowing. The deal sounded far too good to be true. Either way the Tyrells would be fighting in this war, and an alliance with The North and the Riverlands would be useful, if his plan of independence succeeded. "You have already pointed out that we cannot offer you the hand of what would be our future princess."

Robb tented his fingers seriously. "I want Ser Loras to join House Tyrell of Rillwater Crossing, along with a collection of hedge knights, and second and third sons from your noble houses who would be willing to join with the men already sworn to it, as well as fostering between various houses of The North, The Riverlands, and The Reach. It's not a marriage, no, but it would keep both interests involved between the kingdoms."

Margaery let out a stifled gasp of surprise, and Robb hid a smile. He had not run his idea by her, had not really run his idea by anyone, but he could see only upsides. Dorne would surely welcome a split of the seven kingdoms one more, which left only the Stormlands and the Westerlands to worry about, since The Vale had declared neutrality, and given those were the lands of his Aunt Lysa, who he did not think would strike against him.

...And, well, if Ser Loras joined Margaery's House Tyrell, that took care of the problem of having no Tyrell left to lead it, were she to marry.