Highgarden was a green sanctuary, tucked away from the harsh reality that filled the rest of the kingdom. Flowers nowhere else seen across the large island bloomed annually, leaving it to look and smell simply wonderful. That's what Olenna Tyrell thought anyway. The difference in air quality was astounding when you compared her home to the wretched streets of the capital, where she had spent far too long living in. She was thankful that she had gotten out of there when she had. The little twerp on the throne had just given her the reason to make such a decision. She hardly recognised herself when she looked at the woman serving him. She had been disgusted by her actions, watching her tongue around him when she would usually launch into a tirade if anyone else had been so truly incompetent. He was not a leader. Not by any stretch. And she had heard all about this wondrous woman from the East, who had made her way to the kingdom already. For some reason, she had journeyed to the North, as far from the throne as possible. She presumed it was in order to strike up a deal with Stannis Baratheon. It was a politically acute move, even if she did not hold the man in high favour. Olenna could hardly believe that the king had listened to her warnings of storming into a battle unprepared. It had meant this Daenerys Targaryen could amass an army and forge a strong alliance without being interrupted. It would make it all so easy for her to conquer the poor kid. And she had made it happen with a few well-chosen words. She'd be proud of her genius if she didn't do it so often.
The one thing that concerned her was the fact that her granddaughter was still living in the Red Keep. She had written to Margaery in the hope that she would see sense and leave just as she had. But no response had come to her pleas, consigning her to defeat. She wasn't exactly surprised despite her frustration. Margaery would have recognised that she had a duty as queen and had to be loyal to her husband. If she had left, it would have spooked Tommen, raising too many alarms for him not to take notice. He'd instantly know that the Tyrell family had defected, bringing his army knocking on their door. They'd struggle to get through of course but that had been the plan. If they had been distracted by the possibility of treason, then they wouldn't have noticed a girl on a dragon soaring over their heads to win back what was hers. That stupid girl should have put herself first, as she had been told to do throughout her life. If this obedience cost her her life, at least Olenna would have smugness on her side.
She was sitting by the balcony, overlooking the large area of greenery and expansive fields. It had always been a reassuring sight for her, reminding her of what she had. Right now it symbolised what she had to lose, which was why she was hoping this gamble would pay off for her and her family. Maybe not Mace. He had always been such a disappointment in her eyes. How she had spawned such a wimp was beyond her. A bowl of fruit had been placed in front of her, as she expected. She enjoyed having access to such luxuries. It had been the first thing she had requested after returning home, besides a strong drink. Speaking of which, two goblets of wine were also on the small round table, waiting for her guest of honour. She had been noted of sightings of a large army heading this way, bearing all sorts of banners. She knew it was the Targaryen girl. She had instructed that no news of this was to be spread otherwise she would find the perpetrator and punish them personally. Although it was unlikely that this would stop the king discovering what was going on, it would hopefully delay him long enough for them to get a head start on him. They needed that element of surprise.
Yells of terror could be heard nearby. Olenna could only smirk. That meant one thing. She was here. The old woman stood up from her seat, away from the wooden shelter, so that she could look up at the brilliant blue sky. Despite it being Winter, the sun had still been shining in these parts. She took it as a sign of hope that she had made the right choice. Covering her eyes to block the harsh sunlight, she made it a large shadow in the distance. It was like nothing she had ever seen. It glided almost peacefully through the few clouds that were present, every so often disappearing from view, although the clouds were often too small to obscure the shadow for too long. It let out an almighty roar to signal its arrival, a warning sound to tell enemies to stay clear if they had any sense. She liked how this girl operated. Olenna was momentarily surprised when another shadow appeared, slightly smaller this time but very similar in shape. Then another, pretty much the same size as the second. The fourth and final mirage was the largest and, even from where she stood, she could make out its dirty orange colour. As they soared closer to the ground, she could finally see them for what they truly were. She was not old enough to have seen a dragon, a properly sized one at least, when they were much more common in these parts. All she could say was that they were absolutely magnificent creatures. The way their wings cut through the sky showed off their power without them even trying. And the small figures on top of them were controlling these great beasts, or at least guiding them to some extent. She had been very intrigued and excited to meet Daenerys Targaryen. Her curiosity and interest in the girl had just tripled.
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Margaery stalked the halls of the Red Keep, the one pastime she kept whilst living in the capital. It was the best option in securing her safety, she kept telling herself. If she was constantly on the move, then it was less likely that someone on behalf of the king could ambush her. It was why she kept in the large castle; going outside left her vulnerable. Anyone could approach her if she were on the streets unprotected. At least in the Keep, only a handful of people could get to her. She could fend off a few people. She hadn't even ventured to the Great Sept, where the High Sparrow now hid, no longer wanting to be associated with the king's sadistic plans. She didn't blame him. But not going outside meant she could no longer help the citizens who were suffering under Tommen's reign. He had stopped thinking about them completely, too paranoid about the potential attack to consider anything else. All monetary support had vanished, instead being put into suring up the city defences. She had heard him whisper to Qyburn about the development of a new weapon, although she hadn't seen anything of the sort. That was likely because she had not ventured out of their home for a good few weeks. It had left her face gaunt and her skin pale. Tommen was slowly sucking the life out of her without actually doing anything. He probably hadn't even noticed, he barely looked at her anyways now. She was just a figure who roamed the corridors, a shadow of her past self. All the joy she had once had, all the ambition and thirst for power, had disappeared. She felt empty. Hopeless. Vulnerable. At risk. And, as a Tyrell, she had been brought up to make sure she avoided any situations that left her feeling like this. She was far too gone now to get out. Margaery had resigned herself to her dreaded fate. It was more painful not knowing when her heart would finally give out.
After a few hours of avoiding everyone in the Keep, only interacting with the few cats that were still brave enough to prowl the dark building, she eventually reached her door and immediately knew something was wrong. It was partly open. She sucked in a deep breath, placing a hand on the adjacent door. What surprised her was that there were lights on. It obviously wasn't an ambush then because they'd be more careful. Whoever it was wanted to be noticed. And only one person she knew fit that bill. The boy child starved of attention all his life and, now that he had it, he never wanted to lose it again. Her husband. Tommen was casually sitting by the table in her room, sipping from a glass of water. He very rarely drank alcohol. He claimed it would dull his senses and that was when his enemies would strike. She would always nod her head and agree with him when he rambled on about it, no smile on her face even though the thought of his death often filled her with joy during the cold nights. Why was he in her room? What did he want with her this time? It was probably time for her to be used solely for her body. She could say it was the only time they were intimate but there was no love and affection involved. She was merely an object for those few, unsatisfying minutes.
"I was wondering where you had been," he began, not looking at her. He was seemingly admiring the golden petals that adorned the wall. "I was starting to think you had left, just as your grandmother did." She bit her tongue, taking note of the warning in his voice. It was as if he knew she had contemplated doing exactly that.
"I am not as foolish as her," she responded. Not as brave, she thought bitterly.
"Rightly so. It is why I am so lucky to have you. You are loyal, as a wife should be." She ignored the sexist remark to focus on the one thing that got her attention. Had he just complimented her? A sign of affection? What was going on? "Why don't you take a seat? I thought it would be nice for us to dine together for a change. Alone. Like a married couple should do. It's been too long since we did something like this." Still not trusting the sentiment behind his words, Margaery slowly and cautiously sat down opposite him. He sent her a smile, which she returned, albeit a much smaller one. In front of her was a bowl of hot stew with large pieces of meat and an assortment of vegetables floating at the top. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of telling him it smelled divine, but it did. What made it worse was that were so many people outside who would kill for just a mouthful. He stood up and dished out two servings, heaping a generous amount into her bowl. He then proceeded to offer her a plate of bread, which she took two from. It wouldn't do as a lady to scoff herself in front of her husband. She still remembered her duties. As he sat down, the quiet now beginning to unnerve her, she waited until he ate from his own dish before trying it herself. There was always a reason to be cautious and she didn't trust him enough not to do something to her food. She hungrily drank some of the thick broth, enjoying the warmth it sent down her throat.
"I feel like I must apologise for how I've acted recently. I fear that my paranoia reached unhealthy levels. I should have focused on you more than my political enemies." Where had this change of heart come from? she wondered in her head.
"You do not need to explain your decisions, Your Grace. The safety of the Crown and yourself is the most important thing in the kingdom. It is only right that you prepare for an attack against those who seek to oppose you."
"No, you're not listening. I should have spent more time with you." He produced an open letter from his jacket pocket. Her face went even paler than it had been. "Because it seems that it is not just my enemies who I should be wary of." It was the letter Olenna had sent her. She had not been careful enough, just leaving it in her drawers. "Do you care to explain your actions?"
"My being here shows how loyal I am to you. She wanted me to leave but I chose to stand by your side, just like I promised in our wedding vows."
"Or does it show that you felt that, if you were closer to me, it would be easier to strike? Taking the power all for yourself." She tried to stand up but her vision went dizzy, sending her crashing back down into her seat. Her hands were trembling. She should have realised right then that it had nothing to do with the fear coursing from her body. "You should know by now what happens to treasonous cowards who dare to stand against me. You always spoke so lovingly. How many lies did you say to me? No king should stand for it." A sheen of sweat was beginning to form on her brow. She hadn't been careful enough. He hadn't done anything to the food. He had tampered with her bowl. "A discreet trick designed by Qyburn. He is such a clever man." She could hardly utter a word. Pain shot through her arms. Her eyes became bloodshot. "Shush now. There is no point for you to waste your energy in talking. You spoke too much anyway." She took one last look at the figure standing over her. Right now, he was showing how powerful he was compared to her. But she knew his time was running out. Just like hers. It was impossible to fend off an invisible killer. She began to choke painfully, her throat seemingly collapsing in on itself. The figure before her lost all its focus. Her head slammed into the table, knocking the bowl over that had killed her. Tommen sneered at her lifeless body and walked away, locking the door behind him.
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Daenerys carefully clambered off Drogon's back, spending a moment to stroke his face in a suitable show of affection towards the creature. She watched as the other three dragons landed, just outside the walls of Highgarden. There was plenty of open space for them to stretch themselves here, although she knew they would not be staying long. This was merely a brief stop on her way to the capital. Olenna Tyrell would be able to pass on key information that they did not yet know, information that would likely be crucial to them earning a victory. She failed to hide her smile as she observed the men attempt to gracefully get off their beasts. Jorah and Davos, who had flown together on Rhaegal's back, awkwardly shimmied down the scaly skin, both almost losing their footing on several occasions. She pretended to have not noticed their struggles when their feet touched the ground in order to save their blushes. Bruda, on the other hand, simply slid down from his perch in a fashion that belied his age, landing firmly on his feet with a satisfied grunt. Was there nothing he could not do? she thought to herself, still smiling. A shout from closer to the walls got their attention. Tyrion, Varys and Missandei, who had travelled ahead of them so that they would beat the dragons and the rest of the army, were waiting for them, surrounded by a group of five Tyrell soldiers. She had been expecting a larger number to greet them but took it as a good sign. She hoped it meant that the Tyrell matriarch trusted her.
Olenna was waiting for them at the same spot she had first seen their arrival. She didn't bother to stand up. There was no time for and no point in practising silly shows of respect. They both knew that they needed each other. Daenerys walked ahead of her party and stood behind the only spare chair at the table. She waited to be greeted. It wouldn't do to disrespect a potential ally so soon into their meeting.
"I hope you don't mind me sending an escort to greet you," Olenna said with a wry smile on her face. "You can never be too careful these days." She waved her hands and the guards walked away, leaving them alone.
"I'd be more worried if you hadn't sent anyone," Daenerys responded. Olenna smirked and gestured at the chair.
"Sit, sit." Daenerys did as was requested. "My, I've been told of your beauty but words cannot do you justice. You remind me of myself when I was your age."
"I fail to see how I could live up to such high standards."
"I see you were brought up well. You practically already know the game you're playing without hardly any practice." Straight to the point. She liked that. "I'm glad you chose to visit me. It tells me that you have at least some sense."
"I have to say I was intrigued by your letter. You made it sound as if the goings-on in King's Landing were direr than even we imagined." Olenna looked at Tyrion this time, who stepped slightly forward under her watchful gaze.
"Your nephew is ruining the kingdom because he is not a ruler. He is a coward. A scared little child, which is only natural since he is still a child. Your sister had a lot of faults, which resulted in her death, but at least she knew what to do on the Throne. Tommen is too scared to lose his Crown so does not wear it as a king should." She looked at Daenerys. "But when I look at you...all I can see is the fire that is needed to do what is necessary. You see, the Lords and Ladies of Westeros are sheep. They will follow even the worst ruler if it means they survive. But you, my dear, are not a sheep. Are you?" Daenerys shook her head curtly. "No. You are a dragon. So be a dragon." Daenerys' lips curled at her comment.
"I know you have reached out to me out of a hatred of King Tommen rather than a love of me." Olenna shrugged her shoulders.
"Does that matter? You need to learn that, to be a good ruler, it does not depend on whether you are loved. There will always be people who are hungry for your position so it is impossible to guarantee unwavering support. You want obedience. You have to show them the power you have, which you have plenty of." She took a sip from her glass. "What are your plans?"
"We have enough men to easily take the capital," Tyrion said. "It probably wouldn't last a day."
"But I will not be Queen of the Ashes," Daenerys remarked. "If we attack in such a manner, too many innocent people will die."
"This is war. That tends to happen," Olenna countered. "What are you going to do then? Ask politely whether you can have the Throne."
"I want peace."
"Pfft. Peace. Do you think we had peace when your father was king? Or with his father? His? The best you can hope for is a balance within the kingdom. People will always have complaints on either side of the coin. You have to keep flipping it."
"Which is why we thought it best not to antagonize the Lords across the kingdom," Tyrion said. "Our army is on its way. It will be here within the next couple of days. But not all of it will travel to King's Landing. We think it best that only Westerosi soldiers are involved, otherwise, Tommen would get the other Houses to turn against us since we'd look like a foreign entity. That means no Unsullied and no Dothraki."
"You still have enough men though?"
"Stannis Baratheon heads his portion of the army, many houses from the North behind him," Daenerys answered. "We have the remnants of the Greyjoy contingent that deserted the Iron Islands, as well as the Golden Company. And, we're hoping, some support from you." Olenna nodded her head.
"That can be arranged. But you said you did not want to attack the city. It sounds as if your plan is to do exactly that."
"The armies will surround the city. No one will be able to leave and nothing will be able to get in. If he chooses not to negotiate, he will starve along with his people. But it will not come to that. We have dragons. I don't see why I cannot just fly to the Red Keep and capture Tommen."
"If only it were that simple. But Tommen obviously knows about them. Which is why he designed a weapon specifically made to kill dragons. I think he called it a Scorpion. As soon as you get near, he will give the command and you will be blown out of the sky. I doubt he remembers mentioning it briefly at the council table."
"So, we must attack."
"I didn't say that. Because, if you get rid of those weapons, you will have a free run at him."
"We can't do that without getting shot at," Davos said, speaking for the first time. She reacted as if she had forgotten the rest of them were there.
"Unless we send someone in," Jorah suggested.
"The gates will be monitored every hour of every day," Tyrion reminded him. "Practically impossible."
"That won't be a problem," Varys said. "Spiders know different ways to get into a building."
"And I think I can smuggle one person in," Davos added.
"The fact is that you would need someone with the capability of tampering with the weapons, which will be scattered throughout the city, but also someone who is not recognizable to the guards. That person doesn't exist," Olenna summarized.
"You'd be surprised," Daenerys said with a smirk of her own as they all turned to look at Bruda, who gave them a worried and pleading look.
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An old man wandered the streets of King's Landing, blending into the hive of activity that made up Flea Bottom. He was a shadow amongst the chaos. He had been told that it would likely be empty, with many of the citizens said to have fled the city due to the terrible rule of their king and the diminishing living conditions. But it was still busy. These were people who had no choice but to stay, despite everything that was going wrong. He felt sorry for them but couldn't help but marvel at how many of them still wore smiles on their faces, especially the children as they ran about the streets, playing some game they had just imagined. He had been like that once. In many respects, he still was. They acted as a reminder of how this city needed to survive, how they couldn't just rampage through it as they had initially planned. No ruler would be able to survive such a shoddy and gruesome beginning, not even one who would likely become beloved like Daenerys.
Bruda turned a corner, heading down a narrow, cobbled side street. He'd been carefully instructed where to head once he was inside the city walls by Davos. The former smuggler had been the one to get him close to the city in a small boat they had haggled for. He'd been dropped off on a small beach that was looked down upon by the tall stone walls that defended the city. They'd immediately spotted numerous guards patrolling the wall, all armed with swords and crossbows, so had quickly hidden behind some well-situated rocks and boulders. Davos had been the first to spot what looked like a massive crossbow on one of the turrets and they had both immediately realised that this was one of the weapons Olenna had spoken about. It was at that moment they had spotted two guards scouting out the beach but it hadn't taken a lot for Bruda to discreetly deal with them. His companion had given him a wary glance at how easy it was for him to kill people, which was responded with an awkward shrug. They'd shook hands and Bruda had been on his way, Davos sailing away to head back to where the army was camped.
As the warlock politely waved off a market seller who was trying to offload some frankly disturbing pieces of 'meat', he thought back to his farewells to everyone before they had left. Daenerys had been suitably wary since he was partaking in an extremely dangerous plan. She had been reluctant to let go as she gave him a tight hug, forgetting all pretences of her being a leader when it came to showing compassion for those she cared for. Jorah had practically been forced to drag her away from him before he gave him a pat on the back and a wish of good luck. Melisandre, who had arrived just before his departure with the rest of their contingent, had strongly protested any notion of him going in alone. He had tried to explain why they had decided it had to be him and why it had to be done but she wouldn't listen. She'd even asked him whether she could join him but he'd countered with the fact that he didn't want her putting in harm's way and her appearance wasn't the most inconspicuous. Before she'd been able to let out another argument, he'd planted a tender kiss on her lips which she eventually melted into. He was savouring that thought as he delved deeper into the belly of the city.
Still following the directions he had made sure to memorise, he made it to a particularly noisy shop. He was surprised to find it was a blacksmith's, wondering why Davos had sent him to this particular spot. He had told him that he knew someone in the city who had fight in him, something that would come in handy if they faced multiple soldiers in their way, which they knew would happen. Bruda would be glad for any muscle to back him up. Magic was a blessing to have but one strong hit would surely stop him in his tracks. He wandered up to who he presumed was in charge, fighting the urge to cough due to the fumes and smoke being emitted. He had to speak loudly over all the noise, asking for the name he had been given. The other man, a big fellow who Bruda doubted could string multiple sentences together, looked at him peculiarly, wondering why an old man would want to see his best metalworker. After a few uncomfortable questions, Bruda had seen fit to click his fingers, causing a dazed look to fill the man's face. He proceeded to lead the warlock further into the forgery, stopping at a young man who was bent over as he banged a hammer against a hot strip of metal. The owner left without a word and Bruda's target looked up with a puzzled expression.
"Gendry Baratheon," Bruda said in greeting. Gendry looked around awkwardly, wondering whether he should lie to this stranger. But there was something in his eyes that told him he wouldn't be able to get away with it.
"Yes. Who's asking? Who are you?"
"Your way out of here."