A/N: Chronologically, this chapter is out of order, as it occurs before the previous Tyrion chapter and even before the actual Battle of the Blackwater. The purpose for this was basically because I didn't want to congest the story with Olyvar chapters, even if this is an important event. I won't do this very often, and will keep the story going chronologically from now on. We will be moving on to the ASOS phase of the series next, where things will be much different. Also, don't expect me to keep up this pace. Expect one or two chapters a week. Much thanks to all of you who have shown support. Cheers.

Dusk came upon the horizon as the combined Tyrell/Arryn host continued down the Roseroad, and Olyvar could not help but think that Highgarden looked just as beautiful at night and up close as it had when he first spotted it nearly an hour ago. His potential wife did not lie, her family's ancestrial seat was something to marvel at. Even the mismatched towers, the older ones being square while the more recent were circular, didn't seem to take away from the beauty of the Reach's greatest fortress.

"As I have said, Lord Arryn, it is everything you would expect on the outside." Olyvar gave a smile to Margaery. Day and night, save for when they slept, Lady Tyrell was constantly at his side, giving him a detailed history and description of Highgarden. There were times that Olyvar had listened, learning about the rise of the Gardners, the numerous wars against the old Storm Kings and Dorne, and the numerous plant and wildlife that could be found around the castle's walls.

But most times, Olyvar just smiled and admired the beauty of Margaery Tyrell. He had been stunned by her radiance the first time he had met her, but in the past two days, she showed that her intellect was as powerful as her physical appearance. Their conversations had spanned among numerous topics, such as his own home in the Eyrie, as well as plans to alleviate the suffering of the smallfolk once Stannis had won the Iron Throne. He found himself further enamored with her every second she spoke.

"That it is, Lady Tyrell." The two rode close to one another as they approached the gates of her father's holding, the head of the column made up of the nobility, save for Ser Loras, who had sulked away to a place Olyvar did not care to find, and wished Loras would stay. Garlan rode at the front, followed by Randyll Tarly, fiercest of the Reach's generals. The only one that defeated Robert's host during the Rebellion. Yohn Royce had told him about Tarly's accomplishments, and the man's iron stare only helped solidify his reputation as a hardened general.

Lords Belmore and Royce rode near Olyvar, with Petyr Baelish kept close. This had not been the most popular decision, as many of his lords had protested keeping Baelish alive, let alone near the front of the column. Olyvar had attempted to quell his lords, stating that until he could be trusted completely, Lord Petyr would be held close to him, as so his most trusted lords could keep an eye on him. Baelish's gratitude had been expressed, but Olyvar knew it could all be a farce. He would continue to be weary of Littlefinger.

"We are nearing Highgarden. Inform the men to take the prisoners to the dungeons, and do make sure to treat them kindly. They surrendered willingly, the least we can do is be sure they are well looked after." Garlan commanded one of his men, who rode back toward the rest of the column. The Lannister knights and men Baelish had brought with him had been taken aback when they were surrounded by the Tyrell and Arryn forces, but nonetheless had surrendered willingly, not a single man causing a commotion during the travel to Highgarden. Perhaps they're in on the betrayal as well. Olyvar had said as much to Garlan, who agreed with such a possibility. They would not let the men go, but at the same token, would keep them as prisoners instead of using execution, as Lords Tarly and Redfort had suggested.

"I wonder how Lord Mace will take all of this." Belmore spoke in an amused voice. "Renly is his king one night, now he finds a marriage proposal from a lord whom supports Stannis as king."

"Alliances seem to change rapidly these days, Lord Belmore." Garlan looked back. "My father will understand that without Renly Baratheon to serve, the Reach must choose a new king for the Iron Throne, one that best serves the realm." The realm or the Reach, Garlan? Olyvar had heard from Lord Royce and Stannis tales about Mace Tyrell, not very many of which were complementary. Both had encountered him at Storm's End twenty years ago, Lord Yohn having journeyed alongside Olyvar's uncle Eddard's host to lift the siege Stannis suffered under. Olyvar remembered Stannis grinding his teeth every time he was made to recall the tale, as well as the very sour look that appeared on the Lord of Dragonstone's face.

"Indeed, and you will find that King Stannis will serve the realm justly, Ser Garlan." Olyvar said. "That, I will pledge with confidence."

"You speak true, boy." Randyll Tarly's voice alone was enough to make Olyvar recoil. The man hadn't even bothered to look back as he spoke. "Stannis Baratheon is a man who will dispense justice upon this realm. But who is to say that he will not try to dispense that justice upon us as well for taking up Renly's cause in the beginning?"

"I have given you my word-"

"Your word? You are barely a man, your word means naught if not for the House you come from." Tarly spit on the ground. "The actions of a man determines how much his word is worth. Tell me, Lord Arryn, what have you done beside come to us and beg for the hand of Lord Mace's daughter and our allegiance? What about you should we put trust into?"

"Lord Tarly." Yohn Royce's voice was not heated, but there was a sharpness to it Olyvar had heard before. "It is true that action speaks. My lord approached your host as a diplomat when he was attacked by Ser Loras, grounds enough to kill. But instead of ordering his lords and men to kill Ser Loras in his charge, Lord Arryn engaged him, keeping him occupied until Ser Garlan could take control of the situation. Does that not tell you enough about my lord's character?"

"It only tells me he's not a fool for killing a Tyrell right outside of our camp. Demanding the guest right, sending half of your host back down the Roseroad to King's Landing in case these negotiations fail in order to aid your king. All of these actions indicative of a boy who is Jon Arryn's son. But they are not decisions that show he has much confidence in either the Reach's hospitality, nor in his King's ability to take the capital by himself."

"That will be enough, Lord Tarly. We are here." Olyvar had not noticed, but once Garlan spoke up, he saw that they were beginning to ride through the gates of Highgarden and into the keep itself. As the gates opened, the Lord of the Eyrie's eyes were met with a vibrant combination of colors he had never experienced before. Some men of the garrison stood at attention, holding Tyrell banners, whilst the smallfolk cheered praises.

"Ser Garlan!" "Lady Margaery, welcome back!" Do they truly love the Tyrells this much? Olyvar was awestruck at the hospitality being shown, and looked over to Margaery as she waved to her people. She glanced over at him and gave a wink, and Olyvar grinned wide. But before either could say anything, he felt a tug at his robes, and looked down to see two small children, a boy and girl with sandy blonde hair, standing below him. They looked so much alike and so close in age that Olyvar assumed them to be twins.

"Lord Arryn." The boy spoke with a toothy grin. "Welcome to Highgarden, milord." The girl then held up a large bouquette of flowers, an equally large grin gracing her face. With a smile, Olyvar bent down and took the bouquette, reaching into his purse and pulling a number of coins Lord Petyr had so graciously presented him with.

"I thank you for your hospitality. Now run along to your parents, little ones." Both beamed at him before streaking off back into the still growing crowd, one that was larger than any he had ever seen gathered in the Eyrie. Olyvar sat upright on his horse once more, looking throughtfully at the flowers before an idea came to him. "Lady Margaery, a gift." Margaery's face lit up as well when Olyvar presented her with his gift, taking the flowers into her arms.

"Praise Lord Arryn!" "Lord Olyvar, Highgarden welcomes you!" Olyvar looked around as he heard his name being shouted more and more, the bright and delighted faces now cheering his praises. "It seems they have taken a liking to you." Margaery said with a coy tone.

"Perhaps. Might make it easier to convince your father to let me marry you."

"The voice of the smallfolk are quite powerful. And right now, I am inclined to agree with them." The two did not look away one another as they rode on, Olyvar lost in Margaery's doe eyes, as he prayed she was finding herself lost in whatever part of his face she was staring at. She is going to be my wife. The thought brought joy to him. I will not fail in convincing Mace.

As the head of the column finally made its way to the highest point of Highgarden, Olyvar saw a small party of people standing atop a set of stairs that led into what he assumed was the main keep. Of this group, he saw three individuals in particular that stood out. First was a man who looked a similar age to Garlan, dressed in eccentric green and gold robes, but most noteworthy was the cane that he was using. Willas Tyrell. It was said that Mace Tyrell's eldest son bred the finest hawks in the Seven Kingdoms. Olyvar wondered how they would compare to his own falcons.

The second individual was an old crone whom Olyvar did not need to guess the identity of. Margaery had told him all about her grandmother, Olenna Redwyne, as had Lord Yohn. Both had remarked about the woman's unique wit, although the Lord of Runestone had warned Olyvar to not cross her, while Margaery had told him he would have nothing to fear. Time would tell whom was correct.

Lastly, a large man who was walking down the stairs with a very cheery look on his handsome face as his large belly bounced with each step. He possessed brown curly hair, with a triangular beard that was starting to grey slightly. As Olyvar dismounted his horse, he began to walk forward alongside of Garlan to meet his fellow Lord Paramount.

"Lord Arryn. We have not had the pleasure of meeting, although I am sure you have heard my name enough times." Mace Tyrell gave a roar of laughter, and as Olyvar began to bow to pay his respect, the Lord of Highgarden put his hands on his shoulders. "Come now, there is no need to bow here today. We are equals, after all."

"I was taught by my father and King Stannis to always give proper respects to a lord in his keep, Lord Tyrell. It would do you an injustice if I did not."

"Nonsense, nonsense. Come, please enter my home and treat it as your own." Mace Tyrell put a large arm around Olyvar's shoulders and led him up the stairs. "After all, you may be visiting here much more often in the future, if I am to understand correctly the letter my son Garlan has sent me. But we may talk about that over supper. Come, my wife and uncle oversee the preparations."

"You are kind, Lord Tyrell." Olyvar tried his best to not look or feel uncomfortable. He had just met the man, yet Mace Tyrell had his arm around him as if they had known one another forever. You would think he would wait until I've actually married his daughter to treat me like a son.

"Father, perhaps Lord Arryn would like to be introduced to the rest of our family." Margaery appeared seemingly from out of the air and saved Olyvar, grabbing his arm with hers and pulling him away from her father, causing Olyvar to be thankful, as well as sending his heart racing once more.

"Yes, of course my dear. Lord Arryn, this is my eldest son Willas, heir to Highgarden and future Lord Paramount of the Reach." They had reached the top of the stairs where Willas was waiting, hand outstretched. Olyvar took it and gave a nod out of respect.

"I hope your journey was not arduous, Lord Arryn. Highgarden welcomes you."

"Not nearly as arduous as this war has been, Lord Tyrell. I am glad to have been shown such hospitality here." Willas' face was kind and clean shaven, but looked nearly identical to that of Garlan's, if just a bit older. Olyvar resisted the urge to look down at Willas' legs, thinking it would be rude to observe the crippling injury the heir to Highgarden was said to have sustained by the hands of the Red Viper of Dorne in a joust.

"Lord Arryn, may I introduce my grandmother, Lady Olenna Redwyne." Margaery turned Olyvar away from her brother to now face her grandmother. The old crone's face was not smiling, which cause Olyvar to nervously smile. Her eyes looked him up and down before she spoke.

"You are the very image of a young Jon Arryn. Hair is a tad more auburn than his was, but I suppose that's your Tully mother's gift to you." Olyvar's smile became more genuine as he saw the Queen of Throne's grin at him. "You were well worth walking all this way to see. I feel as if I've been taken back to a different time looking at you."

"Come now, else our supper will be cold!" Mace Tyrell shouted as he lead the various highborn lords into the keep, presumably for the hall the Tyrells ate their dinner in.

"You knew my father, Lady Olenna?" Olyvar could not help but to question the old woman as the party began to walk inside, wanting to know more.

"Of course. Long before Jon Arryn was Robert's Hand, I remember him visiting the Arbor with his father Jasper and his brother, I cannot remember what the name was. A number of years older than me, yes, but gods I can still remember how handsome he was. Much like you are." Olenna looked past Olyvar to her granddaughter, and whispered. "When your father heard about the match, he practically jumped for joy at the thought of his daughter marrying Jon Arryn's heir." Perhaps you are right, Lord Tarly. Olyvar could not help but to smirk. Even in death, my father's name still means a great deal.

The party eventually came to find itself in a hall with one very large table placed in the center. On the surface of the table were courses upon courses of food, so much so that only one of Robert Baratheon's feast could serve as a measure. Olyvar found himself being lead to one end of the table by Margaery, who assumed the seat to his direct right, whilst Lords Belmore, Baelish and Royce sat to Olyvar's right. Mace sat at the head to Margaery's right, with a middle aged woman Olyvar had never seen before sitting next to Mace. He could only assume that this was Alerie Hightower, Mace's wife and Margaery's mother. After her sat the Tyrell sons, including Loras whom, to Olyvar's extreme displeasure, had chosen to rejoin them and sit at supper.

"Esteemed guest, although the rest of your men and lords will be well fed, I hope you understand that because of the nature of your visit, this must be a more…intimate supper for the rest of us." Mace Tyrell did not lie, as Olyvar noticed that besides the Tyrells, his own lords Randyll Tarly, the servants and a handful of others Olyvar did not know of, the hall was completely empty. "But we will talk after we have gotten a plate under our belts. Eat!"

Despite the small amount of people, the hall was full of chatter. Olyvar could see Olenna Redwyne conversing with Yohn Royce down near the middle of the table, whilst a fat and hideous looking man Margaery had identified as her great uncle, Garth Tyrell, was speaking with Lord Tarly, both looking rather serious. But Olyvar's eyes eventually found Lord Baelish, whom was listening to Lord Belmore whilst quietly eating his meal. What're you thinking of in that mind, Littlefinger?

"I have heard much about you, Lord Arryn." Olyvar looked across the table to find Lady Alerie addressing him. "Jon Arryn's heir, one of the scions of the house of the falcon. You truly are an intriguing figure in this war."

"I would hardly say that, my lady."

"Oh, but I must disagree. Robb Stark's cousin and Stannis Baratheon's ward. Much is made of your relationships with both. It has been the word around Highgarden since my son's letter arrived and announced your visit." Olyvar gritted his teeth behind closed lips at the mention of his cousin. There were days where he missed his kin, but also moments where he remembered how Robb had betrayed him. Today was the latter.

"I assure you, if it is a question of loyalty, my lady, I have sided with King Stannis from the beginning. My cousin's foolhardy attempt at independence, admireable as it may be to the Riverlands and Northmen, will be dealt with once the rest of the realm is in order. But, truth be told, I would save that encounter for last. I'd sooner tame the lion and kill the kracken first, if I could." Olyvar also remembered what Theon Greyjoy had done, a betrayal greater than any Robb could have perpetrated. He had mourned Bran and Rickon, and vowed that if Robb did not kill Theon, he would do so. Perhaps he would even allow the witch to burn Theon, just as he had burned Winterfell to the ground.

"Indeed, our enemies are numerous, but surely Lord Stannis has plans to defeat these enemies should he win the throne." Mace Tyrell spoke with a booming,confident voice.

"King Stannis does have such plans, but he still requires more than the Vale to aid him in bringing peace to the Seven Kingdoms, even after he takes the throne. That is why we need you, Lord Tyrell." Olyvar pushed his plate out of the way and leaned over the table. "The Reach's host, combined with the fleets of Dragonstone, Gulltown and the Arbor would be enough to retake Pyke a second time. And after Kings Landing is taken, Tywin Lannister will have nowhere to run. He is trapped on all sides, and if we give him over to my cousin, I am sure that will be enough to return Robb to his senses, and he too will bend the knee."

"Hmmm." Mace Tyrell contemplated Olyvar's words, his handsome face scrunched up as he sat back in his chair. "That is a fair and thoughtful assessment. My son Willas has said the same. With the Reach's might, Lord Tywin would be defeated quite soundly. I'm not so sure about handing him off to Robb Stark, however. Unless of course Lord Robb would bend the knee immediately as a condition."

"I am sure that he would." Olyvar did not mention the other part of why he was so confident his cousin would rejoin the realm; Sansa would be in his possession after Stannis won King's Landing. Giving her back in a show of good faith would solidify good relations, and would hopefully lead to a quick reconciliation. "But without you, Lord Tyrell, this plan will not work. Stannis is still in need of men to bind his kingdom together, men that you have."

"I see. So then, what does your King offer us in exchange? Save for the marriage of Stannis' ward to my beautiful daughter, of course." Olyvar had been warned of Mace Tyrell's desire for influence and power, and was fully prepared to deal with it. Perhaps Lord Tarly should listen, and see how much my words will mean.

"Among my personal marriage proposal, King Stannis offers the Reach two seats on the Small Council. These representatives will be chosen by you, Lord Tyrell, but the positions themselves will be chosen by King Stannis. Also, should you choose to not appoint yourself, you will be granted access to the Small Council meetings at your request. Lastly, when the Kingsguard is rebuilt, you can be assured that one cloak will be reserved for a Reachmen. You may nominate as many candidates as you please, but of course King Stannis will have final say so over his sworn swords."

Olyvar didn't think that Mace Tyrell's eyes could have been wider than they were right now. The man's mouth was nearly hanging open, speechless at the thought of what he had just been offered. It had been much to give, but if it won the Reach, Olyvar believed that it would all be worth it. "It is a fine and fair offer, Father." Mace's daughter spoke for him, once again grabbing Olyvar's arm and pulling it towards her, making his heart flutter even further when, under the table, she locked her fingers with his own. "We should strongly consider accepting King Stannis' offer to help reunite the realm. Think of what they will say of you when you help to bring peace to the Seven Kingdoms."

Mace looked to his wife and Willas, who too had been listening with a keen interest, before turning back to Olyvar, an unusually serous look on his face. "There is one more condition I must ask, Lord Arryn." Olyvar squinted his eyes, preparing for something outlandish to be asked of him. You're being given more than you deserve after you sided with Renly in the first place, Lord Tyrell. But in an instant, Lord Tyrell's face broke into a large smile. "I wish for you to wed my daughter in Baelor's Sept."

Olyvar looked immediately at Margaery, who too wore a large grin. "Gladly, Lord Tyrell."

"Then we are agreed. I accept the terms you offer me. Now, I feel an announcement is in order." Mace Tyrell rose from his seat and raised his challace. "Lords and Ladies of Highgarden and the Vale, I am please to say that I accept the proposals made here today by Lord Olyvar Arryn, in the name of Stannis Baratheon. I am happy to announce that I will accept Lord Arryn's proposal to marry my daughter Margaery, as well as have the Reach recognize Stannis Baratheon as the King of Westeros. In the name of His Grace, to Stannis!"

All at the table save the youngest Tyrell son toasted and cheered, but Olyvar did not care what Loras thought about this new alliance. He had won the Reach and the war to Stannis, as well as another prize that rivaled both in his mind. Margaery Tyrell would be his to marry, and nothing else mattered to him.