A/N: Sorry I'm late today! I'm off for Winter Break, so I slept in. But, I've got some Tyrells, some Braime and Jon teaming up and some more Arya and Myrcella. Enjoy!

Chapter 25: Highgarden

There were plenty of large manors in King's Landing, but their size and scope was limited by virtue of it being, well, a city. High Garden had no such limits, and it was truly an estate. Arya tried not to press her face to the window as the great house came into sight. She had never been to Highgarden before, even in her old life. It had the most gorgeous, lush gardens she had ever seen and a hedge maze which she would have loved to explore if she wasn't on business.

In particular, roses seemed to be the favorite of the garden. They came in all different colors, and the manor itself had a rose carved into a stone over the main door. This really looked like a set to a movie that Sansa would adore. In fact, Arya was reasonably sure they had used it as a set for some movie with a sweeping romance between a woman with an elegant gown and a man with a strapping suit. It was the ideal location for a wedding.

"Wow," Myrcella said. She was clearly just as impressed. "It's been ages since I came here. I had forgotten how huge it is." She looked back to Arya. "We have a manor this size in the west. But High Garden has the largest gardens by far."

"Yes, they have the virtue of living in the ideal climate," Tywin commented from the passenger's seat. "The West isn't as kind to most things that grow."

"I suppose that's why their business deals with food more than anything else," Myrcella said. "And textiles. They make some of the most gorgeous fabrics, Beth."

"I'll take your word for it, Miss," Arya said.

The leaves on the trees only added to the beauty of the estate. They had turned variously brilliant shades of gold, orange and crimson and the leaves scattered across the long drive as the car pulled up in front of the house. Arya fell in line with the rest of the security team, intending to stay with them to do her actual job, but as she climbed the steps, Myrcella looked back at her questioningly.

"Go on. Follow her," Clegane said. "She's your focus. If she wants you that close, do as she said."

Arya nodded once. "Yes, sir." Then she hurried to follow Myrcella.

The inside of the manor was just as elegant as the outside, with pearlescent marble floors cracked with pale green veins. There was a rose engraved in the floor at the center of the foyer, beneath a single table that was overflowing with flowers. They really embraced that theme, didn't they? It was almost excessive.

Nearly as soon as they entered, a young woman appeared at the top of the stairs, and Arya recognized her immediately as Margaery Tyrell. She always looked gorgeous on the big screen, which was to be expected. But even in the flesh, she was glowing. Not one hair was out of place and her green dress looked like something that she would wear on a red carpet. Did she just walk around the house like this? Or had she known that the Lannisters were coming and sought to make an impression?

"So good of you to come," Margaery said, gliding down the stairs and extending her hand to Tywin. "I know we just recently saw each other at the charity gala, but it's good to see you again."

"Is it?" Tywin asked, seeming unimpressed by her manners. He probably knew that they were a front. Margaery treated every person of importance, regardless of how much she liked them, as if they were the most important person in the world. Unless she wished to make a statement. If Margaery Tyrell frowned at you, it was as good as being cursed. Or at least Sansa had once explained to Arya.

She was a genuinely nice person by all accounts. She gave more to charity than anyone else in Westeros, but she was always quite... loud about it. It was hard to see how much of it was because she cared and how much of it was for her image. But as long as someone benefitted from her generosity, Arya supposed it didn't matter.

"Of course it is," Margaery said, unfazed by Tywin's icy demeanor. "You'll be wanting to meet with my grandmother. She's in the library. I'll take you there." She looked to Myrcella. "And Myrcella. Very nice to see you again. I'm glad you could come and visit."

"I'm glad to be here," Myrcella said with a genuinely bright smile. Margaery's charms won her over easily. "This is Beth Rivers. She's my bodyguard."

"Pleased to meet you," Margaery offered her a quick nod. Arya could see the light of curiosity passing through her eyes, wondering how someone like Arya could be a bodyguard. But she was one of the first not to voice their confusion. Instead, she gestured for them to follow her toward the library.

The library was one of the most impressive rooms Arya had ever entered. It was two stories and its shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, carved from beautiful white wood and filled to the brim with more books than Arya could read in a lifetime. There was a piano at one end of the long room and enough seats to host a party. And in the center at a single table sat Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns herself.

Every head of the notable families in Westeros had a certain presence. But Olenna Tyrell was one of the few who could match Tywin Lannister's reputation for intimidation. When she was young, she was known to ruthlessly bully the competition out of their holdings and absorb them into her own organization. She stepped down from her place as CEO a few years ago and passed the position to her son Mace. But everyone knew that she was still the one pulling the strings.

She was probably the only one who could command enough respect to draw Tywin Lannister onto her turf rather than going to him. And she smirked when she saw him, not a bit rattled. Arya found a wave of admiration for the woman surge through her. Oh, to be fearless and immovable. That would be something.

"Mr. Lannister. It's been some time since you've come to Highgarden."

"One year, I believe," he said, taking a seat in front of her. "I hope we won't waste too many minutes on pleasantries."

"Oh, of course not. You know I can't stand them." Olenna glanced at Myrcella who hovered nervously behind Margaery. "This is the granddaughter? She looks like her mother, doesn't she?"

"Yes, miss." Myrcella curtsied quickly. "They tell me so. It's nice to meet you."

"More polite than your mother," Olenna observed. Her sharp gaze flicked to Beth. "And you?"

"Beth Rivers," Arya said. "I'm Myrcella's bodyguard."

"Now that's something I didn't expect." Olenna looked her up and down. "I think I should enjoy talking to you later."

"I'm sure we would not want to distract Miss Rivers from doing her job," Tywin said.

"Oh, put yourself at ease, Lannister," Olenna said. "Highgarden is perfectly safe. I know the girl will be able to spare me one conversation." She tapped one of her gnarled fingers against the table. "Later though. There's business to attend to now. Margaery, you can show these girls around?"

"Yes, Grandmother," Margaery said. "Myrcella, Beth. Follow me. We'll leave them to their important work."

Myrcella nodded, fluttering after Margaery and Arya followed shortly behind. In all honesty, she would have loved to be a fly on the wall of this conversation. But then, it was not for Beth River's ears and it was not for Arya Stark's ears either.

She would have to content herself with the grounds then and pretend it was of no consequence to her what happened when two titans met.

The tour of the grounds took the better part of two hours. Margaery would have made a great tour guide if ever her modeling and acting career fell through. She was knowledgeable about every inch of the grounds and any question Myrcella asked, she could answer.

Arya kept her mouth shut, watching and listening as Beth would. Myrcella tried to engage her occasionally, but she kept her answers to a few words and the occasional smile. But Margaery had no intention of leaving Arya to herself.

"So how did you come into the profession of bodyguard?" she asked. "Seems a strange job, if you don't mind me saying. Very dangerous."

"I'm good under pressure," Arya replied. "And I'm good at self-defense. It seemed the best place for me to be."

"She's a lifesaver," Myrcella said. "Really. She actually saved my life."

"Yes, I heard that you had a frightening encounter," Margaery said, placing a hand on Myrcella's shoulder. "It is difficult for women like us. Sometimes men think they have permission to attack for no reason."

"Have people attacked you?" Myrcella asked.

"Oh yes. Many times," Margaery said. "But like you, I have good bodyguards. And no one would dare as long as I'm here. It's my home. One of the safest places in the world. And you'll be safe here too."

Myrcella smiled and Arya could see some of her nervous energy fading away.

"I'm excited for the wedding," Myrcella said. "Ever since the invitations went out a few months ago, I've been counting the days. I'm sure you are too."

"Oh yes," Margaery said. "It's every girl's dream... their wedding. I'm looking forward to it."

She was lying. It was a convincing lie with a convincing smile. But Arya could see right through it. She knew she shouldn't ask, and yet, curiosity pushed her forward. "How did you meet Renly Baratheon?"

Margaery glanced back at her over her shoulder, surprised by the question. Arya put on a look of sheepishness. "Sorry. It's not my business to pry."

"No, no," Margaery said. "It's fine. I met him through my brother. The two of them are good friends and... Well, I just found him so charming." She turned to face them, continuing her pace backwards. "We got engaged rather quickly, you may have noticed, but we knew each other for a while before we were engaged. So don't let the tabloids tell you otherwise. We're both very excited."

Most of that was a lie, and it told Arya what she already suspected: this wasn't a love match. The Tyrells were trying to align themselves with the Baratheons. She wished she knew the significance of that, but she had been away from King's Landing for too long and she had never been a student of the various economic alliances. She would have to ask someone later.

She did know that the Tyrells were one of the few families who could rival the Lannisters in terms of wealth. They were currently aligned with them, which made the job harder for the Starks. But what if the Tyrells ever broke away and become a rival instead? She imagined Tywin was trying to avoid that eventuality. Nothing else could have brought him out to the Reach to discuss business with this woman in person.

Arya didn't know if a Tyrell and Baratheon alliance would be bad or good for her own family. She supposed it wouldn't matter in the long run. She wouldn't be in Westeros long enough to see how the chips fell. She was only watching them drop.

Olenna Tyrell was a shrewd woman who had earned the title 'Queen of Thorns' from the moment she joined the Tyrell family many decades ago. Some said that she picked her husband for his money rather than his personality, but Tywin disagreed. She had picked her husband for his power in the Westerosi economy. And then she had practically doubled the Tyrell's reach over the course of her lifetime. In fact, their growth only seemed to accelerate once her husband was dead, almost as if he had slowed her down.

Her power in the Tyrell family was a blessing and a curse to them. Her son was a fool and could not keep the company afloat without her. Her grandchildren showed little promise as leaders though they made good followers. The one exception was her granddaughter Margaery Tyrell. Tywin suspected that she would be the real power in the Tyrell family once Olenna was gone.

And perhaps that was what made her marriage to Renly Baratheon so... suspect. Tywin had his doubts from the moment he heard it announced.

"Well, the contract seems acceptable," Olenna said, flipping until the end. "Though I suppose by now, we've learned that we can't pull the wool over each other's eyes."

"That we have," Tywin said. "At least on paper."

"Are you accusing me of unscrupulous business practices?" Olenna asked. "Or are you confessing?"

"Neither," Tywin said. "I am interested in your granddaughter's upcoming wedding."

"Are you?" Olenna said. "Forgive me for saying so, but you don't seem like a 'wedding' kind of person."

"It's more the intent behind them that intrigues me," Tywin said. "After all, Renly Baratheon belongs to a family that has been in league with the Starks for some time. It could cause conflicts."

"Why should it?" Olenna asked. "Stannis is in charge of the company and will be for some time. He's a younger man than either of us. Renly has some say but it should not cause problems."

Tywin studied her. Olenna Tyrell was good at many things, but playing innocent was not one of them. "Well, let's say for a moment that Renly gained control of the company, in a hypothetical scenario. It would open the way for an alliance between the Baratheons and the Tyrells. And perhaps, by default, the Starks."

"An interesting hypothetical," Olenna said. "But have you considered that maybe this is just a story of two young people in love?"

"I'm afraid I haven't," Tywin said.

"And even if it wasn't," Olenna said. "Have you considered that this has nothing to do with the Starks or with the Lannisters? It could just be something for our own interests."

Yes, he had considered that. What if the Tyrell chose to rise above the Starks, Lannisters and Baratheons—to where they no longer needed any alliances—then break off any further contracts with the Lannisters?

"You might find yourself fighting a war on two different fronts in that case," Tywin said. "Are you prepared for that?"

"Spoken like a true veteran," Olenna said. "We're not at war anymore, Tywin. This is business. And we all know that between the contracts and alliances, we're fighting to climb on top of each other. There's no need for us to lie about that."

"No, you're right," he said. "About the facade of the contracts and alliances at least. But you're also wrong. It is a war. It just uses different weapons. You are welcome to try your hand at it if you're ever inclined. Hypothetically."

Olenna inclined her head. "It would be ambitious. But at the end of the day, do you know what people need most, beyond any luxury item or technology?" She leaned forward slightly. "Food. The Baratheons understand that just like we do."

Yes. And that was one way the Starks and Lannisters fought each other on equal grounds. They were each in an alliance with one of the top food producers in the country, evening them out. A movement from the Tyrells or the Baratheons could tip the balance.

Olenna shrugged, threading her fingers together. "It's not a problem, obviously. We have a contract. We're allies, Tywin." She smiled. "It's right there on paper."

Yes. And one day you might not need said contract, he thought.

The one saving grace was that Renly was not guaranteed anything. Stannis was a hard man and a shrewd businessman, and he would not trust Olenna Tyrell as far as he could throw her. He would consider his contracts with the Starks sacred. Once he retired, the company might not go to Renly. But unfortunately the other candidate was Joffrey, the son Robert wanted the company to pass to, and Joffrey was far less appealing than Renly to the shareholders for obvious reasons.

I need to straighten that boy out soon, he thought. Even if I have to go through his mother to do it.

Because this was war, and he didn't have time for children who didn't take it seriously. And if Olenna Tyrell was going to play this game with him, he would show her why he earned his reputation.

Brienne would almost feel bad for being a part of something like this... if it wasn't Janos Slynt. But she had decided from the moment she joined the police force that she hated the wretched little man. He was awfully short for someone who talked too much, and whenever he talked to her, it was to insult her competence and her abilities. The best policy was silence, but in this case, walking him into a possible altercation with Jaime Lannister seemed a nice change of pace.

She shouldn't be working with Jaime Lannister. He was off the force, and as a police officer, she was crossing a line. She shouldn't have taken help from him at all. But then, his finding that picture helped her with her investigation when no one else seemed to care. So perhaps this was paying a debt.

She also had a personal interest in this, having worked on the Arya Stark case. If someone paid off Janos Slynt to pull the records or falsify the reports, that was an offense that she could not let stand. It was her duty as a police officer.

Gods, she had been rationalizing it in her head all day, going back and forth about whether she should even go through with it. But then Janos Slynt walked in, saw her, and groaned. "Seven hells, I'm working with you again? I'll barely have space in the car."

Brienne's eyes narrowed slightly, and she checked her phone. Jaime had sent her an address of a nearby bar. She tapped back a reply.

B: We'll be there shortly.

It was nice of Janos Slynt to ease her conscience.

"You're not usually one to suggest getting a drink before patroll, wench," Slynt said. It was the infernal nickname that many of the officers called her when their superiors weren't listening. Wench. Jaime had started that, and she was still inclined to blame him for it, despite his recent help. "Too stiff for that."

"Perhaps I need one to endure working with you for the next few hours," Brienne said flatly, parking in front of the bar. "We won't stay long. One beer. Nothing more."

"And now you sound like my mother," Slynt said. "She wasn't pretty either."

And she passed that on to you, Brienne thought. But she kept it down. Her role tonight was the good cop.

They entered the bar and Slynt walked right up to the counter without glancing around at his surroundings. If he had, he might have noticed Jon Stark sitting off to one corner, sipping on a beer. He might have noticed Jaime leaning up against the wall near the jukebox. But he just ordered a beer and drank, unsuspecting.

Brienne glanced at Jaime, giving him a nod. And over he came.

"Slynt!" he said in a booming voice. "And Wench. It's good to see you."

"Lannister," Slynt looked up. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, drinking my pain away. Funny coincidence, isn't it? Us both being here." Jaime slid onto the stool next to him. "Are you two on duty?"

"Aye. Just started," Slynt said. "We'll be off soon enough."

"And you convinced Tarth to drink? That's quite a feat." Jaime pat him on the shoulder. "Listen, Slynt, I'm glad you're here. I was looking through some unsolved cases yesterday, and I wondered if you could help me out."

"Not sure I'm supposed to do that, Jaime," Slynt said.

"He's right," Brienne said. "It is against policy."

"Come now. You're not a stick in the mud like Tarth here, are you?" Jaime asked. "I know you don't mind breaking a few small rules."

Slynt sighed. "Fine. It depends on the help."

"Slynt-" Brienne said in a warning tone.

"Fuck off, wench," Slynt said. "I told you before, you're not my mother, didn't I?"

Brienne fell silent, but she noticed Jaime give her a wink over Slynt's head before he turned back to face him.

"Good man," Jaime said. "Now, it's about the Arya Stark case."

Brienne watched Slynt's face carefully, and she saw how his expression froze at the mention. "The Stark case? What about it?"

"Well, I have some copies back at my apartment," Jaime said. That fact seemed to make Slynt nervous too. He shifted back and forth. "But it's not the complete file. I wanted to compare the Stark girl file with the Stark father file. In case they're connected, no? I would appreciate you sending me a few copies."

"I can't do that," Slynt said. "Helping you is one thing but... I wouldn't want to give out our old files."

And because they're not there, Brienne thought. And you know it.

"Of course not, of course not," Jaime said. "Maybe you can just answer a small question then. You're the one who found Arya Stark's body, right?"

"I am," Slynt said.

"And did you take it to the coroner? To determine cause of death and all that?"

"Aye. Nasty business," Slynt said.

"And then you wrote up the file yourself?"

"That was my job, yeah. I worked the case, so I did the paperwork."

"Good, good. That's what I figured," Jaime said. "So here's my question, Slynt. Why did you lie about the body?"

Janos Slynt swallowed hard, and he studied Jaime closely. "I... what?"

"The body," Jaime said. "It wasn't Arya Stark. So why did you say it was?"

There was panic on the man's face, and the question surprised Brienne too. She hadn't heard that detail about it not being Arya Stark's body. How could Jaime be so sure of that? If it was a bluff, it had worked. Janos Slynt looked like a criminal caught in the act and he was already sliding off the stool to make a quick exit.

Jon stood in his way before he could.

"You should finish your drink, Slynt," the boy said coolly. "We have a few more questions."

"Stark. What are you doing here?" Slynt asked.

"I want to know where the files on my cousin and uncle went," Jon said. "Because they're not there. And you know where they are."

"Tarth," Slynt looked to her. "We need to go on patrol. We don't have time for this. Get these two away from me."

"Apologies, Slynt," Brienne said. "But I'm rather interested in the answers to their questions as well. Did you remove those files?"

Slynt didn't reply. He glanced between the three people surrounding him—two officers and one former officer—trying to find some escape.

"Removing police files makes one look a little guilty," Jaime said. "Did you kill some girl and pass her off as Arya Stark to cover your tracks?"

"No! No nothing like that. I haven't killed a soul," Slynt said. "Someone paid money for me to falsify the results. And someone paid money for me to remove those files."

"Who?" Jon asked.

"I didn't know their name or their face," Slynt said. "They used two different numbers so it could have been two different people, but they both used a voice distorter. I couldn't tell you the first thing about them. That's the truth."

"Say we believe you," Jaime said. "Why would they want you to falsify the coroner's report and pull those files?"

"They didn't tell me," Slynt said. "They told me where to find the body and insisted that I have it identified as Arya Stark. I thought it was just some rich kid trying to cover up some terrible mistake."

"A rich guy?" Brienne asked. "What makes you think it's a rich kid?"

"Might not be. They were just... nervous on the phone. Jumpy. They snapped when I asked questions," Slynt said. "Like someone who was terrified to get caught. And obviously they had a lot of money to spend on erasing their mistakes. So yeah... some rich kid."

"I don't think murder counts as a 'rich kid' mistake," Jaime said.

"And I don't think you have to be a kid to be nervous about murder," Brienne said.

"I told you I don't know, didn't I?" Slynt snapped.

"Yes. You told us," Jon said. "Do you have the numbers? We'll take both of them."

Slynt shook his head. "I can't... give you that. If they found out I gave you the number-"

"They won't find out. But even if they did." Jaime's grip tightened on his shoulder. Brienne could see Slynt wince from the grip. "I want you to think carefully and ask yourself: are you more afraid of this mystery client of yours? Or my father?"

Janos Slynt went white as a sheet at the thought of dealing with Tywin Lannister himself. "All right," he said. "All right, I'll give you the number. But you didn't get it from me."

"Of course not," Jaime said, letting his grip fall away. "We won't turn you into the mystery man. Selmy though. We're definitely reporting you to Selmy."

"Absolutely," Jon said. "We're going to call him right now before he leaves the station and tell him we have something important to discuss."

Slynt tried to back away again but Brienne grasped him by the back of his collar. "Yes. We are. Get to the car Slynt, or I'll cuff you and make you. And trust me: you won't beat me in a contest of strength."

Slynt had wilted slightly under the pressure and he nodded once, beginning his walk toward the car with Jon walking just beside him. Brienne glanced at Jaime.

"You didn't tell me you suspected the body wasn't Arya. How did you know that?" she asked.

"Would you believe it was a hunch?" Jaime asked.

"No," Brienne said.

Jaime sighed. "Suppose not. I'll fill you in later. Deal with Slynt first."

She nodded once. "And what are you going to do with that number?"

"I suppose eventually... I'm going to have to call it," Jaime said.

A/N: Hope that you enjoyed some more plot advancing, particularly on the Jaime, Brienne and Jon side of things. And of course the Queen of Thorns. Review, subscribe and I'll see you next time!