"What is this? Leeks?" The Queen of Thorns leant forward and sniffed sharply at the scattered green fragments of leek floating languidly on a small lake of pale, buttery yellow soup served in a bowl of white with its edges adorned with swirls of green leaves and golden roses. "I'm not fond of leeks – especially leek soup. An old favourite of my late husband's," she added as the Princess Lyanna glanced up at her curiously. "He was a fool, Luthor. Much like my oaf son Mace. It was during a feast at Highgarden – Luthor's nephew and namesake's wedding in fact – when my late husband swallowed a spoonful of leek soup instead of chestnut soup. He enjoyed it so much he had the Highgarden chefs make it for him every day."
"Grandmother." Margaery rolled her eyes. "I'm certain the Princess Lyanna has no desire to hear about what Grandfather Luthor liked to eat."
Olenna reached and snagged a passing servant. "I dislike leek soup immensely. Take it away and bring me some cheese."
"The cheese will be served after the cakes and tarts, my lady."
"The cheese will be served when I want it served, and I want it served now." It was irritating when servants repeat words like those talking birds. Why couldn't they understand one's orders more quickly? Olenna fixed her brown eyes on her future good-granddaughter. Princess Lyanna looked more depressed than usual. Odd as she wasn't raised alongside her betrothed or spent years or months at his side. Princess Lyanna Baratheon and Robb Stark weren't strangers to each other; they weren't madly in love either. A broken betrothal should not be shocking, nor lead to days of listless brooding.
"Do you like cheese, Princess Lyanna?" asked Margaery.
Princess Lyanna looked at her, startled like a distressed doe. "Oh, cheese is ah, quite nice," she said hurriedly, avoiding Olenna's steady stare. "I like cheese with ham on bread for lunch."
Margaery flashed her a large smile. "What a coincidence Princess Lyanna!" she exclaimed. "I enjoy lunching on that too!" The princess smiled politely.
"I heard you like lemon cakes," spoke Olenna. She waved her hand and a third servant approached, holding a plate full of lemon cakes. Olenna inwardly grinned as she saw Princess Lyanna's blue eyes light up with delight. Ah, she was just like other girls who had a fondness for sweets and little cakes. Personally, Olenna had never enjoyed lemon cakes. Oh, she had once fancied blackberry and strawberry tarts when she was a girl. Before she was engaged of course. Her dislike for cakes and tarts replaced her love for them when she had watched her Redwyne cousin Lyssa choke to death on a slice of apple pie.
"That's a Tully attribute my lady." Princess Lyanna beamed with pleasure. The servant placed the plate of lemon cakes in front of her, bowed and retreated back to his place as silent as a rat. Olenna's eyes gleamed. "A Tully attribute?" she then asked, feigning ignorance.
"My lady mother loves lemon cakes," Princess Lyanna explained. "She had told me once that my aunt Lady Lysa enjoys lemon cakes too. All of my female cousins love lemon cakes too." She smiled. "I don't know about my male cousins though. I do know that my uncle Edmure isn't fond of lemon cakes."
Margaery laughed. "Lemon cakes are delicious," she agreed, delicately picking up one and putting it on her plate. "Lemon cakes at Highgarden are the best." She leant closer to the princess. "The chefs can make lemon cakes for you every day if it is your desire," she said sweetly.
Good grief. First leek soup every day and now lemon cake. Olenna suppressed an oncoming shudder. Oh no, that would not do at all. "There are other delicacies at Highgarden," she said swiftly. "I myself haven't tasted many of them in the last decade. Lost most of my teeth," she added, giving the princess a toothless grin. "It is a pity. There are so many nice, crunchy dishes that involve cheese."
Princess Lyanna smiled at her, more forced than before. "I'm certain there are a number of delicious dishes involving cheese my lady."
"Are you excited to marry my brother Willas?" Margaery inquired. Olenna also leant forward with interest, rubbing her thin fingers together.
"Lord Willas seems to be a kind-"
"Louder child!" Olenna barked. The princess stared at her, astonished. "Please forgive me, Princess. My hearing is not as good as it once was."
"Oh," said Princess Lyanna and she raised her voice slightly. "My apologies my lady. I think Lord Willas is kind, handsome and clever with words."
"Clever with words," snickered Olenna, nodding. "Willas is indeed different to his oaf of a father and a fool of a grandfather. Like Margaery here, Willas had also inherited my brains. First man in House Tyrell to have a brain, Princess. Well, the first man in decades." She tapped her skinny fingers on the table. "I blame Luthor Tyrell's grandmother," she commented rather absently. "She was a Bulwer. I once heard that Bulwers were inflicted with stupidity. Do you know what Lord Oaf did soon enough? Against my advice, he wedded his cousin Victor's daughter Victaria to the late Lord Jon Bulwer. I suggested for Victaria to be married to the Florents' heir to end Tyrell-Florent disputes. My oaf son-"
"Grandmother," Margaery cut in. "Forgive me but I do not think the princess is interested in my father's…matchmaking."
"I am interested," said Princess Lyanna quickly. "My lady, pray continue."
Olenna smiled, more to herself than to the Baratheon princess. It was quite the relief Willas was engaged to a clever and interesting young woman. It was still an honour for Willas to be betrothed to the king's eldest daughter, but it was much a comfort to discover Princess Lyanna a young woman with wit rather than a quiet and rather docile woman like Alerie Hightower.
"Keep your allies close and your enemies closer," Olenna stated. She smiled to herself as Princess Lyanna frowned slightly, abandoning her half-nibbled lemon cake on the plate. Margaery reached for another lemon cake. Olenna had told her that particular saying when she was a girl of eight. It never hurt educating young children, especially girls. "I trust you heard of that, Princess?"
Princess Lyanna shook her head. "I'm afraid not my lady."
"Oh? It's a lovely saying, Princess Lyanna." She turned to Margaery. "Margaery, remind an old woman of what it means."
Margaery giggled. "Grandmother, surely the princess can guess?"
"My late grandfather Lord Hoster used to say that every great lord had to deal with their Brackens and Blackwoods," said Princess Lyanna quietly.
"Every great lord has to deal with their own Freys too," Olenna mused. "House Florent is the Freys and Brackens."
Princess Lyanna cracked a smile. "My lady, I doubt the Florents are both Freys and Brackens. The Brackens aren't…as unfriendly I suppose."
"Eh. I'm certain Lord Edmure will disagree. One can never trust foxes, Princess. Remember that. You will be Lady of Highgarden soon enough and you'll discover roses and foxes don't mix. Foxes will try anything to nip off our heads. No Florent had ever married a Tyrell and I thought – why not try for peace? Like most of the Lords of Highgarden before him, my oaf son rebuffed my suggestion. He said that the day a fox is invited into the garden, all the roses will die." She snorted. "What do you think of that, Princess Lyanna?"
The princess blinked. "That is a little dramatic my lady," she said, choosing her words carefully. Olenna chuckled. "My fool of a son can be quite overly dramatic," she agreed. She didn't mention that Mace practically demanded Harrenhal as the princess's dowry. Fool.
The door to Olenna's chambers opened and one of Mace's pages – a tiny boy of eight with the Merryweather sigil of a golden horn of plenty spilling out a variety of fruits and vegetables of many colours including apples, carrots, plums, onions, leeks, grapes and turnips, on a white field bordered in gold splashed on the right breast of his tunic – ran in, stumbling into a bow. Olenna clicked her tongue with irritation at the Merryweather boy.
Like many great lords, Mace had an entourage of squires and pages, all of their fathers hoping to garner favour with Mace. Olenna squinted at the Merryweather boy. Oh what was his name? Rupert? Runcel? Runceford? The Longtable heir was small for his age and seemed to have inherited more from his father than his lady mother. Apart from inheriting his Myrish-born mother's large, dark eyes, the boy inherited naught more. He had Lord Orton Merryweather's lumpy nose and quite messy hair, though brown not orange-red.
"Russell," said Margaery sweetly, recognising the boy. "Did my father send you here to tell us something?"
Olenna rolled her eyes. "Why else will he be here, Margaery?"
"Lord Tyrell told me to come here to tell you Lord Willas has arrived," Russell Merryweather informed her, his eyes darting to Princess Lyanna for a second.
"Willas is here?" Margaery's eyebrows rose. "Already?"
Olenna glanced at Princess Lyanna. She'd paled for a moment before making a rather quick recovery. Willas's arrival at King's Landing would be unexpected. To Olenna though, less of a surprise. Ever since his injury, Willas rarely left his home, Highgarden. He spent his days breeding his hawks, hounds and horses and would stay up late in his chambers, his nose stuck in a book. However, taking the advice of Garlan, Willas had at last begun a progress throughout the Reach a few months ago. Willas was a keen writer and had written a number of letters to Mace, Alerie, Olenna herself and his siblings. The last letter stated that he had already watched a melee hosted by Elwood Meadows, Lord of Grassy Vale, a cousin of both the red and green apple Fossoways. Also in attendance were Lord Meadows's cousin the Lady Lysa, wife of Willas's distant cousin Ser Olymer Tyrell (also there) and both their sons. Their only daughter Megga was one of Margaery's companions.
"I'm sorry." Princess Lyanna was on her feet and glancing at the door. "I didn't realise the uh, time. My lady mother is expecting me-"
"Nonsense." Olenna waved her soft, spotted hand. "I may be an old woman but I know that look." Princess Lyanna frowned slightly, puzzled. "You are frightened, are you not? Scared of meeting your betrothed?"
Princess Lyanna blushed. "I…"
Olenna sighed. "What is it with southron maidens these days? Always so shy. I was most certainly not so timid and demure when I was your age Princess. When I was nine years of age, I was betrothed to Prince Daeron Targaryen. When I first met my betrothed, I knew at once I didn't want to wed him." She smirked. "When we were both eighteen, I broke the betrothal."
"Lady Tyrell!" Princess Lyanna looked scandalised, yet intrigued.
Olenna chuckled and reached for her cup of Arbor gold. "I had no desire to be wedded off to that odd prince. Charming yes, but very odd. Kept insisting that his pet dog was a dragon. Then again, he was a child of ten when he said that. Back in the days, my father Runceford was one of the most powerful and influential lords in the Reach. He was also such good friends with the Lord Tyrell back then that it was he who was honoured with fostering Luthor. When he was still a boy and I a girl, he paid no attention to me. None at all!" She rolled her eyes and cackled. The Baratheon princess lingered in her spot with interest. "I made sure Luthor picked me," Olenna went on. "Out of all my Redwyne cousins, I ensured Luthor chose me as his wife." Her lips curved into a smile. "I ensured it."
Silence descended into the room. Margaery's eyes were wide open and Lyanna Baratheon hovered like an uncertain goose (though a doe would be more fitting). Olenna swivelled around and snapped at the heir to Longtable. "Why are you still here, goggling like a fish? Don't you have page duties to deal with?"
Russell Merryweather remained standing there, gawking at her like a fool. By the Seven even Butterbumps, the fool and jester at Highgarden, had more a brain than the Merryweather heir. "Go," Olenna said slowly, jabbing at the door. "We've heard what you came here to say; now you may go." She turned back to Margaery and Princess Lyanna. "Pray sit Princess." Olenna gestured to the seat that Lyanna had vacated a few minutes ago. "There will be more cake – and my cheese."
By the time Olenna tottered to the Great Hall for a spot of supper with Left and Right behind her, court was already buzzing with news. Lord Tywin, the Old Lion of Casterly Rock, was confined in his chambers; the Kingslayer had been arrested and placed in the dungeons; and Lady Cersei Baratheon was to arrive any minute to answer the charge of adultery.
Olenna suspected there was more going on than a mere trial of adultery.
"My lord husband was jumping with excitement," said Margaery, joining her at the table, "for what reasons, I do not know."
"Quite unlike you." Olenna clucked disapprovingly. "Did Lord Renly mention a small detail or two at all?"
"Sadly no. However Loras let it slip that the Reach would rise high."
Olenna snorted. "That sounds like something your oaf father would say."
"Perhaps…or perhaps he is telling the truth."
"I know you love your brother Margaery, but you must admit that at times, his views are oft influenced by his heart." Olenna's eyes travelled to the high table as Margaery uttered a response. The queen was whispering to Princess Lyanna and nodding in Olenna and Margaery's direction. Olenna smiled. During the wedding at Highgarden, the queen had encouraged Princess Lyanna to sit and speak to her old betrothed, Robb Stark. Though it was hard to say the queen herself was in an ecstatically happy marriage, with the king having a different prostitute in his bed every night, the queen yearned for her children to be in loving marriages – a rare blessing in the marriage market.
"Grandmother. Margaery." Willas sat down next to Margaery. Olenna looked at him and nodded approvingly. Willas did not look stained from travel. Good. Some men preferred to meet their future wives in travel-stained attire after a very long journey. Unfortunately even men of the Reach, the centre of chivalry and honour, would greet their betrotheds in boots caked in mud and dirt, tunics stinking with sweat and cloaks that were soiled. At least Willas had the common sense to show up in Tyrell green silk, his newest pair of black boots and a green satin cloak that was clasped around his neck by a golden rose brooch.
"Your progress around the Reach was fast," Olenna commented. "I didn't think you would arrive so early."
"Father sent a raven," Willas explained. "When I was in Grassy Vale, I received a raven from Father. He told me to come straight to King's Landing and continue my progress at a later time." His forehead creased. "He said he'd finally found the perfect bride for me and to come here immediately for the wedding."
"Did he tell you her name?" To Olenna's astonishment, Willas shook his head. I thought Mace would be bursting with excitement to tell him. Perhaps Mace was so eager when he wrote the letter that he had neglected writing down that his soon-to-be good-daughter was Princess Lyanna Baratheon. "Did he inform you when it is you are to be wed?" Olenna frowned. She was not aware of the wedding held at the earliest convenience.
Willas shook his head again. "He said for me to come quickly. I supposed that I would have my wedding garments made here."
"Lady Tyrell. Lady Baratheon."
Olenna looked up and pasted a toothless smile on her face as she saw Princess Lyanna Baratheon smiling timidly at her, Margaery and Willas. Willas stood up at once, leaning heavily on his lacquer black cane, the silver handle a bird of prey. It was a pretty change from the typical golden rose. Willas smiled gently at Princess Lyanna and bowed to the best of his ability.
"Lord Willas." The princess's cheeks were as pink as strawberries.
"My lady princess." Willas's smile grew as he kindly kissed her hand. "You are looking more radiant than ever."
Princess Lyanna's blush reddened further. By the Seven it was like she'd never heard a compliment in her life before.
"I believe no introductions is necessary," said Olenna briskly. She gestured for the princess to sit down, "but for the sake of court etiquette, Princess Lyanna, my grandson Willas. Willas, your betrothed, Princess Lyanna."
"My betrothed…" murmured Willas thoughtfully. He beamed at the princess. "I am honoured to be chosen to be your future husband." He quietened. "Princess, it is not my place to say," he said hesitantly, "but I know you must be upset that you will no longer wed Robb Stark. I heard he is a good man. I promise you I will treat you well and kindly. I know I'm older than you ah considerably, and I'm a cripple, but I will never abandon you and I hope over time we will both be content in our marriage and I pray you see me other than a cripple who cannot defend you with a sword in times of war."
Olenna smiled. Clever of Willas to begin with the truth. She stood up. "Forgive me," she said to Willas and Princess Lyanna. "The maester told me I should go for a walk twice a day. I fear I have been a terrible patient. The only walking I do is a quick stroll to this Great Hall for supper! I should listen to the maester now don't you agree?" She chuckled as the princess gave her a strained smile. Willas smiled at Olenna too. Olenna slowly shuffled away. Margaery is a capable chaperone. She walked towards the small huddle of Dornishmen. One of them – a big-boned and long-legged woman with hideously close-set eyes and rat-brown hair – shot her a suspicious glare. How pleasant.
The Dornishmen looked at Olenna, some with vague interest. "Have you not all seen an old woman before?" Olenna snapped. She was in no mood to be stared at by a pack of Dornishmen.
"Old woman?" Slithering from his hidey hole, the Red Viper grinned at Olenna, his black viper eyes glittering like black diamonds. He looked at Olenna. "My lady the Queen of Thorns," he said with a lazy smirk.
"Red Viper," acknowledged Olenna shortly. "I see you brought friends."
"A few." Prince Oberyn gestured for Olenna to sit down and join him. "Perhaps a cup of Dornish strongwine? It is much better than your red water." His Dornish friends laughed as Olenna narrowed her eyes. "Introductions!" The Dornish viper decided. "My lady Tyrell, these are Ser Ryon Allyrion, Ser Deziel Dalt, Lady Myria Jordayne, Lord Tremond Gargalen, Lord Dagos Manwoody and his sons Mors and Dickon, my lovely paramour Ellaria and my eldest natural daughter Obara." Ah, it was Obara Sand with the close-set eyes and rat-brown hair. Count on the Dornish to bring their bastards with them to court.
Ignoring the Dornish nobles present, Olenna spoke to the Red Viper directly. "I heard that there has been a development here at court. The lions of Lannister are finally tamed, eh? By our grim lord Hand of all people!" Prince Oberyn nodded. "I couldn't believe my ears," he said waving all the Dornishmen away. He waited till he and Olenna were alone before he said, "An interesting development."
"Charges of adultery."
Prince Oberyn studied Olenna for a moment. "You are a clever woman my lady Tyrell," he said finally. "Half these lickspittles here are willing to believe what the Baratheon king told them. Charges of adultery." He snickered. "If the charges are true, where is the man who Lady Cersei fucked? Why was Lord Tywin confined in his chambers? Why was the Kingslayer arrested? For slaying the Mad King? Quite a bit late to arrest him for that."
"Odd indeed."
"It does benefit us though, my lady. When he arrives, the Westerlands may not send troops to aid the Baratheon king." The Red Viper's eyes gleamed. "It'll be an advantage for us my lady."
Olenna smiled, but could not help wonder. With Princess Lyanna wedding into the family, was all this plotting truly worth it? Perhaps she was getting senile and old – unlikely, but a possibility. Margaery will be queen though. The vision of Lady Margaery as queen was one Olenna shared with Mace. A Tyrell queen.
"…not too long now," Prince Oberyn was saying. "Soon the rightful king will be on the Iron Throne and your granddaughter his queen." It was bold of the prince to speak about it in such a public place.
Olenna nodded. "Soon," she said, more half-heartedly than before. With two of her grandchildren bound to the Baratheons (or about to in Willas's case), was it a wise choice aiding the vengeance-thirsty Martells in bringing about a Targaryen restoration? Margaery would be queen, but at what cost?
Was it truly worth it?
Sorry for the late update. Sick again -_- Summer in Australia is crazy! So hot one day and then reasonable weather (21-25) the next.
Clary Sage, I've uploaded your oneshot. I'm very, very, very sorry for the wait. It's called 'My Lady Lyanna'. I hope you like it :) I've put more of my thoughts about your prompt in the oneshot's A/N.
