Tyrion Lannister, Hand to the Dragon Queen, was bored, uncomfortable, and very sick of being in this blasted wagon. Fortunately, an end was in sight, literally. For up ahead on the Rose Road was Highgarden. Which even from here was the single oddest sight Tyrion had ever before beheld. There was damaged stone, at least one shattered tower, and yet the countryside was unharmed, with not a bit of turned-over turf from a besieging army, which was terrifying in its implications. As were the thousands of daisies growing among the grass for miles.
He looked up at the approaching party riding to meet with them. At its head Jon Stark, men of Tyrell household colors as well as several Dothraki, and a boy in the oranges of House Martell. "What in the seven hells is a Martell boy doing with Jon Stark?"
"I couldn't say, but it seems our short parting from the Queen has been eventful," Varys said from his seat beside Tyrion on the cart.
Tyrion really rather hated being dragged along with the baggage. "So it would seem." He recognized the personal sigil of a tall handsome man in Tyrell colors with the distinctive golden brown curls and green eyes of the Tyrells. "And it would seem we are to be greeted by the second son."
"Ser Garlan Tyrell, the Gallant." Varys clearly thought as much of that title as Tyrion did. "We must be missed for such a greeting party."
He looked at his fellow advisor out of the corner of his eye. "Is that sarcasm I hear? I didn't know you had the balls for that."
"I find balls have very little to do with such things," Varys replied.
Tyrion sighed as his attention returned to their approaching welcoming party. "Needling you is quite frustrating, you don't even have the good grace to be insulted."
"I've come to be glad of what I am." He straightened, his voice rising. "Our apologies for not rising to greet you, your Highness, my Lord."
Garlan and Jon's horses turned, their party sliding into the still-moving baggage train. Garlan's voice was deep and warm. A handsome voice for a handsome man, Tyrion rather bitterly thought. "Welcome to Highgarden, my Lords."
"A warm welcome I'm sure." Tyrion gave a nod to Garlan. "Ser Garlan the Gallant I assume?"
The Tyrell drew up in the saddle. "In the flesh, Lord Lannister, Lord Varys. The hospitality of Highgarden is yours."
"Well, I thank you for that. I can't say how very tiring sleeping in tents and riding in a cart has been." Tyrion forced a false sense of cheer. He'd heard the barely restrained loathing in the word 'Lannister'. Wonderful. More people to hate him for his family's crimes.
Jon chuckled. "Good to see you again."
"Ah! The mighty bastard prince! Tell me, how is our resident god? I see she held up her end of the bargain here." He prodded, more information was always useful.
Garlan Tyrell's face did something terrifying then, he looked reverent. "We were delivered from death."
"Quite a dramatic turn of phrase," Varys said slowly. "I've heard whispers of a lake of blood?"
Garlan's eyes weren't quite on them, seeing his home at a different time than the present. He swallowed. "It was past a man's knees in some places. She would look at them and they simply ceased to exist, a shower of bloody nothing. But the men who fell to their knees…her power passed over them. I thought…we all thought she was the Stranger come to take us all."
"You probably shouldn't say that to her again," Jon said with a faint wince. "She'll insist it's not her power."
Tyrion's mouth was rather dry and he was very much wishing his ability to drink freely of wine had not been taken from him. If he even began to approach being tipsy now, the Dothraki took his drink from him. "I suppose to a 'god' the difference between ruin and death itself might be more important than it appears to us, mere mortals."
"Goddess Quake has been an honored guest," Garlan spoke with the conviction of a man who'd lop off heads if he heard insult to his guest.
Well, fuck. That could make things very complicated depending on how indebted the Tyrells felt themselves to Quake. But then, Daenerys had paid the price for this miracle, so there was hope yet things hadn't gone to shit in the few weeks since he'd been fully abreast of the situation. "Of course she is, I assume she has enjoyed her time in the Reach?"
Jon spoke up. "The Reach has been everything it is claimed to be." He gave a forlorn look at the walls of Highgarden. "Daisy's spent a lot of time in Winterfell though, just got back this morning."
"It has been an honor to host so many distinguished guests," Garlan said, and he actually looked like he meant that. Tyrell though, appearing honest didn't mean much.
Varys hummed. "Fascinating, she must be very attached to your sister, your Highness."
"Aye." Jon's face was properly conflicted. Which, well, few men liked thinking of their sisters engaged in sexual relationships. Though Tyrion was quite sure Jon didn't worry in the faintest for Sansa's safety in such an arrangement, and thus Tyrion accepted it was likely quite safe, and probably quite good. Which, good for his former little wife, she deserved some good fucking.
Tyrion lifted his waterskin, he really missed endless wine. "Well, to a happy god, yes?"
Nobody joined his one-man toast, but Jon's lips did twitch, so Tyrion jotted that down as a victory.
Garlan spoke up. "A small luncheon will be readied for your arrival. No doubt you will wish to speak with the Queen once you have arrived before the food is served."
"Yes yes, food, wine, and our Queen's good health." Tyrion looked at the Martell boy who was looking at Jon like the man was his personal hero. "And who is this fine young lad?"
The boy drew himself up, actual outrage on his face.
Jon shot a look at the kid. "Mors Martell, my squire." He made a gesture to the boy. "Mors, this is Tyrion Lannister, Hand to the Queen."
"Well met." The boy bit out, giving the single sharpest gesture of respect possible.
Tyrion looked at Jon. "How in the seven hells did you end up with a Martell squire?"
/
Olenna Tyrell watched with hawk-like attention and deep satisfaction as they played host to a more prestigious gathering than had likely ever been held in all of Westeros before. Revenge was benefiting her House greatly, a fascinating phenomenon. She might not have a granddaughter on the throne, but she'd make her enemies pay in rivers of blood for taking her son and granddaughter away from her. Rivers of blood they had already paid, and she'd ensure it continued till there was no more blood left to be run.
"Ah, the infamous Queen of Thorns, I'd say it's good to see you again, but I doubt you'll enjoy cutting at all of my many and varied flaws." Tyrion Lannister remarked as he climbed into the seat across from her.
She scoffed, popping a fig into her mouth. "You've done quite well for yourself. Remarkable, really. Of course, you've made yourself few friends."
"Ah, I've never had many friends. Perils of being a dwarf." Tyrion joked easily.
Olenna wondered if he'd come out of his cups long enough to realize how dire his position was. Well, how dire it would become if the Queen went North. She had no interest in telling him if he hadn't realized it yet. "Always being a dwarf with you. Magic, gods, and dragons walk the earth now. Your misfortunate stature is hardly worth speaking of."
"Fascinating time to be alive." The man lifted the cup of wine to his lips, closing his eyes at it. "Well, assuredly we have all earned our places in the history books."
She scoffed. "Along with the corpses." Olenna's eyes flicked to where the Goddess had just sat beside Garlan and Leonette where they had been playing a game of cyvasse.
Oh, that was interesting, they'd all noticed that the Goddess had been gravitating towards the pair. She also seemed to favor the freed girl who served their Queen. If the Goddess wasn't in the company of Jon Stark, or Missandei, she was often to be found near Garlan and Leonette. It was…promising. Olenna had nearly written her family off as utter failures at gaining more than passing notice from their divine guest, but perhaps she'd judged too soon.
Tyrion pulled her attention back to himself. "History makes corpses of us all."
"Yes yes, and back to dirt we shall go." She was exhausted by the man already. The joy of verbally sparring was not what it once was. "Tell me, did Essos make you depressing as well as give you a beard?"
He made a sound of amusement. "Ah, as tart-tongued as ever. I must confess, I have nearly missed you, my Lady."
Olenna rose to her feet, her hands holding her cane. "I shall leave you to your wine, my Lord." Fuck politeness. She made her way toward where her eldest grandson, Jon Stark, and the Redwyne twins were standing together. She nearly changed directions, the twins were hardly thrilling conversationalists. However, she'd committed to the movement.
"Grandmother." Willas greeted, an amused twinkle in his eye. He knew how she felt about the Redwyne twins. Horas and Hobber were unfortunately important politically to the Reach. And family, she was born a Redwyne after all.
She held her grandson's eyes. "I expect cheese plates served soon."
"Of course." Willas waved to a servant nearby.
Olenna turned her eyes. "Stark, Redwyne, Redwyne."
"Lady Tyrell." Horas Redwyne, and heir, dipped his squarish freckled face, his unflattering orangish hair ruffling in the light breeze. His eyes though flicked to the Goddess unconsciously every few seconds.
Huh, well, at least he was smart enough to be nervous about the goddess. "Yes yes, how is that nephew of mine doing? I assume if he's sent you two he's begun to call his banners as he ought?"
"Father will have his armies prepared to march in a moon's time." Horas reported his unremarkably homely face hard with determination. Poor fool. "We'll avenge your granddaughter."
Olenna had purposely forgotten about the twins' crush on her granddaughter. Well, at least it would keep them devoted to the cause. "I'm sure you'll do your best."
Jon Stark shifted from looking like a stiff board of confusion to relief. "Daisy." He smiled, his shoulders untensing.
"Avoiding Marlon?" Daisy grinned, she lazily strode with the ease and grace that said she knew exactly how powerful she was. Confidence like that was for idiots or Kings, and Goddess Quake was not an idiot.
Jon's too pale northern cheeks flushed slightly. "That obvious?"
"Well he's currently trying to extract himself from a conversation with, I think those are Beesburys, to come hunt you down." Daisy casually touched Jon lightly in greeting. If she was fucking him she hadn't since arriving in Highgarden. Perhaps she had moved from Jon to Sansa? Whatever the case, she allowed him great freedoms that were unlikely to be seen without some form of intimacy.
Willas, bless him, spoke. "Well spotted, I had not thought you would know the colors of our bannerman, your Holiness?"
"They've got bees embroidered all over themselves, and you have an impressive amount of books in the rooms you've lent me." Her eyes were smiling, and ah, she certainly knew the rooms she had been given were normally Willas's, but as the finest in Highgarden had been surrendered to her.
Willas gave a pleasing sound. "Ah, if you wish for further reading we can send for texts on any subject you prefer from the citadel, Holiness."
Olenna would have rolled her eyes. "Your Holiness, allow me to present my nephew's children, Ser Horas and Ser Hobber Redwyne of the Arbor."
Both boys immediately bowed as low as could be politely done. "Holiness."
"Nice to meet you both." She cocked her head to the side slightly. And oh, she could tell them apart despite them being identical save for the difference in clothing to ensure who the heir was, was apparent. Fascinating.
Horras offered his hand, and immediately brushed a light kiss to the back of the Goddess's knuckles, his brother doing the same a second later. "It is an honor to be in your presence. House Redwyne is at your service should you want for anything, Holiness."
"Thank you, though really, you don't have to." Goddess Quake at least seemed not to be displeased by the Redwyne boys.
Willas spoke before one of their Redwyne kin could try and push. "It is an honor and a pleasure to have you back once more. Did his Highness, Prince Rickon, like the hawks?"
"He's delighted. He and Lyanna Mormont found out Lord Royce has a soft spot for the birds and convinced him to take them out hawking. Poor man doesn't know he just agreed to many, many trips." She looked positively affectionate as she spoke of the Northern prince.
Jon chuckled. "At least he and Lyanna aren't trying to kill each other any longer."
"I think it's just how he makes friends." Daisy patted Jon's shoulder. "He drives any girl his own age into a murderous rage, and then after they've attempted to murder him they're best friends."
Olenna laughed at that. "Bah, boys that age are never much good with girls are they?"
"You're not wrong." Daisy grinned.
Willas glanced at Jon. "I don't know, do you believe we should take offense at that, your Highness?"
"I don't know, but I think girls at that age give us boys every right to be terrified." Jon really was a handsome man when he smiled.
Hobber spoke, frowning. "Terrified?"
"Aye, I saw my sisters fighting when they were that age and stayed well clear." Jon was positively glowing with familial affection. "I did give Arya a sword though."
Daisy's grin grew. "She's really good at stabbing things with that sword."
"Good." Jon gave a nod, pride plain as day. Honestly, reading his moods was far too easy.
Olenna did raise a brow though. "Women fighting seems strange to me."
"Doesn't matter much who stabs your enemy, long as they're dead." Jon replied with the practical bullheadedness that seemed to so rule his person.
Horas interrupted with an audible groan. "What's Randal Yelshire doing here? I thought he meant to be a septon?"
"We're at war, soon to march our armies as our Queen dictates." Willas' eyes narrowed ever so faintly, he clearly would be sending some poor cousin off to make sure the idiot didn't get drunk as he had at the harvest feast three years ago. Though if he'd 'found his calling to the gods' perhaps he no longer publicly drank too much? "It is not so odd he would attend."
Olenna's mouth pulled slightly as she realized the idiot was going to come to introduce himself. Her brow nearly furrowed at the realization that not only was he marching straight towards them, but the man's face was tight with outrage.
"Randal, I had not realized you had arrived so early." Willas greeted, a handsome if fake smile on his face as he clearly had caught what Olenna had and meant to get the fool away from their more important guests. Certainly the Goddess. Small mercies the Queen was speaking with her newly returned Mormont man.
Randal utterly ignored Willas, instead his focus utterly on the Goddess as he came to a halt a solid ten paces away from them. "WITCH!"
"Seriously?" Goddess Quake raised a single brow, the back of one hand automatically stopping Jon Stark from stepping forward.
The man's chin was raised as he seemed to think he could stare a goddess down. His voice was loud, causing everyone to fall silent to witness the insanity no doubt about to leave his mouth. "How dare you spread your lies to the faithful! You and whatever cheap charlatan tricks and foreign magicks you pedal do not belong here. I know not how you've beguiled these good people, but I won't be tricked by you and your foul blasphemy and lies!"
"Blasphemy?" Goddess Quake was looking at him like he was some strange child throwing a tantrum.
Which…Olenna would have grabbed Randal if she was close enough to be able to do so to shut him up before he got not just himself, but all of them killed. But in doing so she'd have drawn attention to herself.
"YES! The Seven that are One rule here, not whatever depravity you whisper." He snarled. "You shame your father and father's House, no matter how small and foul it must be to have produced an abomination such as yourself! That you would sell your blood for power to those twisted trees and ancient evils says all that needs be said to know you for what you are."
Jon Stark's mouth was pressed into a thin line as he seemed rooted to his spot only by the Goddess's unspoken command to do so. But Olenna had no doubt that if the Goddess wasn't surely about to kill Randal the Stark boy would do it for her. But to insult not just the Goddess's own person but her father and kin was…the man would not be walking away alive. Olenna would have him killed if he somehow survived what she could no longer prevent. None of them could. To intervene now was to invite death on themselves.
"What am I then?" There was a coldness to the Goddess's tone though as she crossed her arms watching him, mouth nearly smiling, her eyes decidedly not.
Olenna felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Oh, oh no, their guest was going to give him all the rope he could want to hang himself. And she was going to watch him do it before acting.
"A perverse cunt that will drag us all to the seven hells if you are not stopped! Cavorting with demons and dark things. You've sold your soul for power and it will consume you and us with you. Daring to speak for the gods, condoning sin. I pray that the Seven shall surely smite you for your depravity. To walk and speak above your betters. You would make whores of us all." Randal breathed in, his chest nearly heaving from the force of his religious fervor. "I attaint you for the curse you are! You would have men lay with men, women with women, women command men as if it is their place to do so, holy marriage broken for cheap lusts, our souls damned, murder, an orgy of blood and violence, noble houses no better than pigs in the mud. You should have prostrated yourself before the Seven for absolution you do not deserve. Already you corrupt all those around you."
Randal waved one hand. "They all whisper your crimes already. But then it would be the savage, ruined whore, Sansa Stark who pretends to be Queen over her own brothers who would sell herself to your lusts." He sneered before choking, grabbing at his throat.
"You shouldn't have said that." And oh. The Goddess's expression had lost all humor, her eyes narrowed as she held a single hand raised towards him. "I'd have only broken you a bit if you hadn't said that."
Olenna and every person there stared in abject horror. Because light had begun to change, flickering and changing, bending and weaving about her. Most terrifying were the wisps of pure darkness that seemed to eat the very light before fading to nothing and another strange darkness appearing elsewhere. And beyond that, gold seemed to flicker under her skin as she walked inexorably toward the man. Inhuman, her flesh barely containing whatever it was that lay beneath.
The ground and air alike shivered as the Goddess reached Randal, whose face had turned pale as he desperately tried to breathe despite whatever invisible bonds closed his throat. Her voice was firm with danger and horrifyingly conversational, as it carried without question. "I have never met your Seven, but if they think as you do, you should be very glad of that. I've killed gods before, and I wouldn't hesitate to murder yours."
Her hand landed on his shoulder, his eyes widening as he finally gasped air. "Let me be very clear. I don't care what you humans call me, I don't want your worship, and I don't care if you think I'm an abomination."
Randal looked at the Goddess wide-eyed, seemingly finally realizing what he'd invoked.
"You think I'm a charlatan, a witch." Goddess Quake's hand moved from his shaking shoulder, to cup his neck. "I'm getting sick of being called that. So let's see how your body handles containing just a piece of my power? If I'm a liar you should be fine." Her smile showed too many teeth.
And then Randal screamed.
Olenna's eyes widened, her heartbeat raced in her chest, and her breath was caught in her lungs. She hadn't seen the Goddess reduce the Lannisters to mulch, but she'd seen the after-effects. This…was not what Garlan had described, but even she could see some sign of what was happening to the man.
Blood began to leak from the corners of his eyes, his ears, and nose; his scream surely damaging his throat. But his skin, oh gods, every piece of visible skin was bruising before their eyes.
And then as fast as it'd begun, it ended. The Goddess released him. Like a puppet with its strings cut he collapsed to the ground, whimpering moans of agony still leaving his lips. She lowered herself beside him, one hand patting the top of his head like a misbehaving pet. "One last thing. If you ever even say Sansa Stark's name again I'll make you wish you'd never been born."
She straightened, rising back to her feet. Her gaze turned to Willas. "Sorry, but guest rite or no guest rite, if I see him again I'll kill him." And then she simply walked past the silent, horrified guests, vanishing through the archway and into the castle.
The garden was utterly silent save for the delirious whimpers of agony coming from Randal Yelshire where he lay on the ground.
Jon Stark started forward only to pause. "I've got her."
"Got her, your Highness?" Willas managed, his voice weaker than he usually permitted himself to speak before others. But well, sheer terror does that, Olenna thought somewhat hysterically.
Jon winced. "Her powers are affected by her emotions. She'll avoid everyone till she has control again. And I can help." He looked to his Northern guard. "Seth, check her rooms."
"Your Highness." The guard acknowledged and quickly moved to do as ordered.
And then Jon was quickly following after where the Goddess had last vanished.
Olenna swallowed. Man was either an idiot or possibly the bravest soul she'd ever seen to chase after an angry god to try and calm it. Probably a bit of both. Still, what was done was done and she certainly wasn't going to tempt fate herself. Turning she looked at the sobbing wreck of a man who'd caused all of this. "Remove that idiot from my sight."
