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His liege lord it seemed had been carousing like he usually did, hence why he found himself stuck within this chamber waiting for him. He was the only one currently seated here. He couldn't help but admit this was an annoyance that was slowly getting on his nerves.
Mace Tyrell did not even bother informing him in person that the council meeting had been cancelled, instead delegating the task to a mere servant boy. No doubt the rest of the lords who constituted Mace's council had been informed before he was.
Unbelievable.
The Reach needed to rebuild, not partake in hedonistic indulgences.
Robert's Rebellion had been an incredibly turbulent period for the Reach, when the Florents and Hightowers declared for Robert they had found themselves plunged into a civil war. Randyll Tarly had played an important role in his suppression of the Florents, he had commanded the van that set Brightwater Keep aflame. Yet it was a strategic blunder that he had never really forgiven himself for.
It cost them several days of marching, and was one of the contributing factors that lead to the Battle of Ashford ending so inconclusively with Robert's escape.
In the aftermath of the war the Florents remained the Lords of Brightwater, which was to his misfortune as Lord Alestor Florent declared that Houses Florent and Tarly would forever be locked in a blood feud. This lead to the breaking of the betrothal between him and Melessa Florent.
So he remained unwed.
He was getting old now, and he needed a strong heir for his house. There were few women within the Reach who could offer him such an heir. Many of the other Reach houses had been wary in offering the hands of their daughters due to the stories that have sprung around him.
Alester Florent had spread preposterous rumors of his conduct during the siege of Brightwater, telling tall tales of how babes and young milkmaids were raped and their mutilated flesh consumed by his men and him in a grand orgy of depravity that made the Warrior himself weep in shame.
Absurd!
He was no Mountain that Rides!
So he couldn't fathom how far these stores had spread within the Reach and even beyond.
'Randyll the Cannibal.'
That was what the minstrels would sing, the especially foolish ones right before his presence. It had rankled him that Mace had done nothing in addressing such slander. Instead Mace found it had a nice rhyme to it, thankfully his mother the good Olenna Redwyne as always had the mind to chastise her son for his lack of tact.
The Queen of Thorns was the only one who had the mind to combat such outrageous rumors, saying angrily how Randyll Tarly was a true and tried servant most leal to Highgarden and how he didn't deserve such grievous insults.
Speaking of the dowager-lady, she had just entered the council chamber flanked by two massive robust men. A surprise for he had heard she was off to Dorne.
She walked with a gnarled cane that made a loud clanging sound every time it made contact with the floor. She wore a multi-layered dress. The inner layer was made of pure satin green while the outer layer made of wool dyed in green with golden stiches that formed the shapes of roses.
Her hair was held in place by two queer massive headpieces that made her look like some sort of horned game.
Above her collar was a necklace made of silver chain and bore several gems, all of them cut with masterful craftsmanship.
Yet all that finery couldn't hide the fact she was old. Her wrinkled skin was greyish-white, and her eyes seemed dazed over.
"Oh dear Randyll, I suppose you've fallen victim to my oaf's foolishness once again?" The woman's shrill voice took on a motherly tone.
"It appears so Lady-Dowager." Her face scrunched.
"Lady-Dowager? My dear that is such a mouthful! I much prefer Lady as it makes me sound younger than I am." She said sweetly.
"Of course Lady Olenna." Randyll did not say it simpering, nor did he say it with scorn. He said it as a man would.
She smiled.
She started barking orders to one of the two men by her side, he pulled back one of the chairs and pushed it back in once the Lady-mother bent her behind.
"It's a tragedy how my stupid boy treats his bannermen. It's so very hard to find good help these days and you my dear Randyll have proven to be the most able bannerman serving my son. Never forget this, it's quite uncommon for me to say such things about a man." Olenna Tyrell nee Redwyne was more than the nagging shrill widow that many thought she was, Randyll knew that behind that façade was a sharp and shrewd mind that knew the game of thrones in and out. It was very unwise to cross her.
"You're still unwed yes? Weren't you betrothed to a Florent girl? I suppose that ugliness with that lecher Alester has made it difficult for you to find a proper wife?" Randyll could only nod his head, he felt as if she had delved into his thoughts, it perturbed him.
"Have you considered a wife outside the Reach?" What was she playing at?
"Not really." Randyll was careful in being as neutral as possible, if a daft codger like Alestor could besmirch his character in such a manner; than it would a trifle for the Queen of Thorns to condemn him into infamy.
"A Northern wife mayhaps? I hear Northern woman are ample in strength and robustness, perfect for a capable soldier such as you Lord Randyll?" A Northern wife? Well he had heard stories of how the blood of the First Men produced strong and resilient progeny. It was not an entirely unwelcome thought.
"On closer inspection that might be unfeasible, a Northern wife would barely survive here." Randyll had a feeling the Lady Redwyne was more focused on talking over him than talking to him. He didn't mind though; he never was the sort for pleasant conversation.
"Can you imagine a Northern maiden in one of our tourneys? The he scandals that would ensue." The Queen of Thorns tittered, no doubt conjuring in her a mind such a scenario.
"What of the Iron Isles?" An Ironborn wife? Was she japing?
"Wait, a bit daft isn't it? That's a terrible thought, my age must be addling my wits." Randyll might have wished for a strong wife, but an Ironborn wife was not to his liking. The Ironmen were thieves, undisciplined and totally lacking in moral values.
"What then a Dornish wife?" The Queen of Thrones was done with her little play, her wizened face now set into a serious mask. This was what she intended to talk about.
"A Dornish wife?" Randyll repeated her question with apprehension. The Tarly's were Marcher Lords; they were situated near the Dornish Marches. Their duties had been first and foremost the defense of the Reach against the ravages of the Dornish. The prospect of a Dornish wife, would not help in dispelling the foul stories around him. The thought of a wild Dornish wife who would sleep with any man if they were to her liking would also be problematic.
"Yes, the Dornish have become ever so distant since the war. The bitter battles between Reachman and Dornishman look far away when compared to the scars of the recent years." Randyll did not like how Olenna Tyrell spoke of Dorne, he felt like she was scheming something and that he was a mere pawn in her eyes.
"Forgive me Lady Olenna, but a Dornish wife does sound that appealing to mine ears." Randyll would respectfully decline her suggestion. This was a union he would not approve of. The bad blood between the Dornish and the Reach was too thick for him to ignore.
"Come now Randyll. I offer you the chance of marrying a beautiful girl, many men would kill for the hand of Ashara Dayne." Randyll's eyes widened at that name. The sister of the Sword of the Morning?
Was she mad?
The Daynes and the Tarlys have had an enmity that stretched back millennium. He would rather live being called a cannibal than marrying a damned Dayne.
"You speak folly. I've had ancestors who've fallen to Dayne swords." Randyll was starting to discard the courtesy he had accorded to Lady Olenna. What she was suggesting rankled more than any of Alestor's lies.
He was not her son, for her to coddle and nag.
He almost denied Robert's ambition. An old crone was nothing compared to that.
The Queen of Thorns on the other hand seemed to regard his little outburst with amusement.
"Don't be stubborn my dear Randyll. You are not the most handsome of men and yet I offer you the most beautiful women of Dorne as your wife. Not only that but she as a Dayne would mother many strong sons for you. Keep in mind you have ancestors who have no doubt fallen to Florent or even Tyrell blades as well. The past is dead, only bones and ruins remain of it." Randyll simply ground his teeth at her words, she knew what he wanted to hear.
"Still- "Lady Olenna brought down her cane onto the floor with great force. The loud sound reverberating across the council chamber.
"You have not even met her. Don't be so quick in your judgement Lord Tarly." Her voice was caustic now, with an acidic tang. The fact she stopped calling him Randyll clued him in that she was in no mood to talk.
He knew better than to continue.
Now he knew why Lady Olenna was so adamant in a marriage between Ashara Dayne and he. She was already here within Highgarden.
He spied her in the gardens, making pleasant talk with the Lady-wife of Mace.
Lady Olenna had suddenly changed topic and spoke of taking a walk in the gardens, asking him to accompany her. She did not offer him the chance to turn her down.
So this was her game then?
The wizened crone was pacing towards them, waving her cane all the while.
"Alerie! Lady Ashara! What a surprise to see you in the gardens!" The shrill widow spoke loudly in faux astonishment. The Lady of Highgarden regarded her with a pained expression whilst Ashara Dayne gave her a warm smile.
Randyll blinked as he saw her, the Dornish wench that Olenna Tyrell wished for him to marry.
He had thought the tales of her beauty were simple exaggerations.
They were not.
She had long dark hair that fell atop of bare white shoulders. She had soft ample lips, and a small aquiline nose.
And her eyes.
Her damned eyes.
Randyll couldn't help but stare at them.
They were like Valyrian eyes, otherworldly and mystical in their properties. They both disturbed and stupefied him.
"Lady Ashara may I introduce to you the Lord Randyll Tarly." She regarded him with a wary look, as if he were some sort of beast.
"A pleasure my lord." She spoke with apprehension and a bit of fear.
Lady Olenna had noticed it.
"What tales have you been poisoning her with?!" Lady Olenna lifted up her crane as if she were about to crack her good-daughter's skull with it.
"NOTHING! I SAID NOTHING GOOD-MOTHER!" Lady Alerie said whilst raising her arms.
"Please stay your hand my Lady! There is no fault in her part!" Ashara said in defense of Alerie Hightower.
The twin guards by Lady Olenna's side had gently grabbed her arms before she was able to do anything. She shook them off.
"Then why do you regard the good Lord Tarly with such a daft expression?" She said sordidly once more. Randyll couldn't make sense of the Queen of Thorns defending him.
"I-I … forgive me, on the journey here I had encountered many dark stories about the Lord Tarly. The fault is mine for mistaking it for truth." She apologized somberly, casting her gaze back at him.
"The smallfolk are all insipid gossips my dear. Worse than any maid, never take their word as truth. It is a pity that so many do not heed such sound advice. The poor Lord Tarly has been left suffering under such lies." Lady Olenna made a show of it as she spoke with grief and sadness. Almost on the edge of tears.
"I sure he does." Ashara regarded him with a smile.
It was beautiful truly, but something about it bothered him. It felt insincere and forced.
They had left abruptly, both Ladies of Highgarden. Olenna had spoken of important affairs that needed the attention of Alerie Hightower. So they left Tarly and Dayne by their lonesome. Watched over by one of Olenna's guards as to ensure nothing inappropriate happened.
He found himself walking besides her, the Dayne girl was quiet. She wanted to be free of his presence was what she screamed in her posture and actions.
"You don't like me much do you." That was more a statement than a question.
Ashara Dayne remained quiet, she stopped and stood before a rose bush. Bending down and smelling one of the flowers.
"Lady Olenna is not subtle at all isn't she?" She spoke with small, sad smile on her lips.
"That I agree. She can be a forceful harridan." At that Ashara Dayne giggled.
"Pray to the seven that she doesn't hear you say that my lord." Something about that smile emboldened him.
He had thought himself a strict, severe man with no time for such idleness; but it seems he was indeed just a man after all. No man, no matter how rough, could be so grim in front of a pretty girl.
"Pray indeed, I doubt Heartsbane would be sufficient to face an enraged Queen of Thorns." He noticed how her gaze seem to fall on his aforementioned Valyrian blade.
"Heartsbane. May I see it?" Randyll had no need to deny such a request. He grabbed the grip of the sword. Pulling in out from its scabbard, the sound it made as it left ringing like a songbird.
His practiced hands danced with it, a safe distance from the Lady Dayne of course.
She had a despondent expression as her eyes fell on the blade.
"It's beautiful." She spoke simply with melancholy deep in her voice.
"Like Dawn?" She scowled at the mention of her family's sword, she looked southeastwards, towards what he believed would have been where Dorne was.
"Your sword is nothing like Dawn." She spoke with venom, her back facing towards him. It seems the stories of the Dornish willfulness was true as well.
At least she wasn't timid.
"That is true. Dawn is a blade like no other." That was truth, Dawn was not a Valyrian blade but something else. She turned to face him, her face softened now.
"I'm sorry Lord Randyll, that was rude of me." She apologized.
He folded his arms in front of him, regarding her with a cool stare.
"Why are you here?" Randyll saw need to ask her such a question, it was obvious she much preferred to return back home.
"You know why Lord Randyll. It's the sameways why you're here and not in Horn Hill. Men and women both have the duties they must fill." She noted dismally.
"Let me wager a guess, you came here looking for a Tyrell husband." She nodded dejectedly at that.
"I have a suspicion the good Lady Olenna has informed you of an alternative match." She regarded him with a small quiet smile.
"I suppose the same to you?" She asked to which he nodded in affirmation.
"Tarly and Dayne. It's such a queer match don't you think? Mine forefathers and foremothers would no doubt curse me from beyond the Stranger's pall if I let such a thing happen." She took out one of the roses she had earlier been smelling, playing with it.
"The sameways mine own ancestors would spit on my foolishness for taking a Dornish wife." Randyll said bitterly.
"Still the Gods have their ways, as strange as they may seem to us poor folk on this earthly coil. Mayhaps such a union would come to pass no matter what we feel." She approached him, with rose in hand.
She offered it to him.
Randyll raised his brow.
"Place it on mine hair." She annoyingly instructed.
Randyll took it, using the edge next to the guard of Hearstbane to cut out the thorns. Then placed it gingerly near her ears.
"I'm impressed, I thought you'd directly put it in, thorns and all." Randyll snorted at her.
"I'm no fool you Dornish harlot." She snickered at that.
"I assure you Reachman my maidenhead is still in one piece." She said daftly, twirling around in the garden with the rose in her hair.
She was like a girl, prancing about like that, no care for what onlookers would think.
He had doubts she would be able to bear strong children, but he was confident any child born from her womb would have the same headstrongness.
"I heard tales from Lady Alerie about you. I had asked her what sort of man you were. You know what she said?" Randyll remained silent.
"She said you were the Reach's answer to Prince Stannis Baratheon." Randyll gave her a very ugly frown.
He had fought Stannis Baratheon, sieged him even. The man was among the stubbornest foes he had ever faced. An entire year and he couldn't even have him send a raven. Stannis Baratheon had humiliated him, just as his brother had.
For both men to be compared to one another? Such a thought only vexed him.
"Pardon?" He said with a growl.
"She said that you were a martinet, deprived of warmth and gentleness. She further said he were like a cold dead lamprey and always seemingly bitter." Randyll would have been enraged if he did not know those were the words Lady Alerie Hightower.
"Can you fault her for finding you so similar to the Bitter Stag?" Randyll ground his teeth.
"Never compare me to Stannis Baratheon." He said finally in a warning tone.
This only served to encourage her as she regarded him with a mischievous smirk.
"Why must I? You yourself call me a Dornish tramp. Why must I extend courtesy which was not offered to mineself?" Randyll sighed, he couldn't argue with the sense in her words.
"Fine,then both of us will not speak of stags or harlots." She gave her a childish grin.
"Thank you then Lord Randyll for not calling me a whore I suppose." She stuck out her tongue at him.
He smiled.
She looked on with surprise.
"You smiled." She said dumbly.
"Yes, I suppose I did." He couldn't help it; this girl was especially daft.
"Why are you smiling?" She asked curiously.
"Why need for such a question? Am I not entitled to smile then? "He responded severely.
"Stannis Baratheon never smiles." She clasped her hands on her lips as she realized she had already broken their promise.
The girl's expression was something he never expected to see on such a pretty face.
It was enough for him to uproariously laugh.
"H-Have you lost your mind Lord Tarly?" She screeched out indignantly as Randyll laughed at her.
"STOP LAUGHING YOU OAF!" She whined incredulously as she futilely hit him with her fists, it only served to make his revels even louder.
He was ever the serious man, never one to waste time on petty things. Always he focused on the ways of war, always he would with an undaunted face go into battle. He was bred for war, born to wage it as ruthlessly as possible. Such a vocation did not leave room for idleness,revelry and merrymaking.
Yet the war was over for now, peace was to be the new way of things. He would not stop preparing for the next war that would erupt within the realm. He would never stop.
But sometimes, enjoying life as it was, wasn't such a bad thing.
Ashara Dayne had reminded him of that.