Jon had spent the rest of the day and night either brooding or warging into Ghost to watch over Sansa. At first, Arya understood his concern. Despite being a little shaken and bruised, Sansa insisted she was fine. But Jon remained unconvinced. Sansa urged Jon to stop warging into Ghost and return to King's Landing to rest and continue the mission to rescue Shireen. Though at first Jon was stubborn, he reluctantly obeyed Sansa's request.
Meanwhile, Arya had hoped to enlist Jon's help in meeting with Lady Olenna, recognizing his superior political acumen. How else could she persuade Olenna to switch allegiances? Arya's strength lay in her swordsmanship, not her diplomacy. Despite his initial reluctance, Jon had agreed to the meeting with Olenna. However, after Arya's small council meeting everything changed.
With Tyrion now serving as Master of Coin and residing in King's Landing, both Jon and Arya realised the risk of Tyrion recognizing Jon. Furthermore, news of the arrangement Tywin was orchestrating for Jaime meant Jon would face great danger if identified. They urgently needed a plan. Adding to their concerns, that morning, the Queen of Thorns had dispatched a message instructing Littlefinger to bring her some unspecified gifts she had requested from Essos. This left both Jon and Arya puzzled about what these gifts were.
"Why don't we consult Sansa?" Jon proposed, his gaze shifting to the crow perched nearby, observing them.
"Unless Bran is already at Queenscrown, we're limited to listening in on conversations. We can't participate or ask questions," Arya explained. "We'll have to deduce it ourselves. And we only have two hours."
"No pressure, then," was Jon's wry reply. "Let us think about it for a moment. What might Olenna want from Littlefinger?"
"Well, they killed Joffrey," Arya shrugged. "Perhaps that's why they're meeting."
"In broad daylight, in the middle of the Red Keep?" Jon was incredulous at the suggestion.
"Wouldn't it be more conspicuous if Lady Olenna were seen at Littlefinger's brothel?" Arya countered.
"Alright, let's assume you're correct. What was used to murder Joffrey?" Jon lowered his voice.
"Sansa described how Joffrey looked, showing that Littlefinger used the Strangler. It's almost tasteless and easy to conceal when one knows how. Only a little is needed to be lethal," Arya explained. "It was disguised as an amethyst hairnet, which Sansa wore."
"Can you procure or make some?" Jon inquired.
Arya rolled her eyes. "I trained at the House of Black and White, remember? I know where and how to buy, and how to make these poisons. That's not the issue. It's the method of delivery that concerns me. Last time, Sansa wore a hairnet with what looked like amethyst crystals attached. The strangler resembles dark amethysts."
"We need to get hold of an amethyst hairnet within the next two hours," Jon sighed.
Arya shook her head as she paced the room. "Sansa isn't here, so the plans will be different. Someone else will wear the amethysts, but how? A hairnet? A necklace? Could Joffrey be the one to wear them?" Suddenly, Arya's face brightened with an idea. "Littlefinger can give it to him," she declared with a wide grin.
Jon watched with concern. "How? We need to leave before then."
"I'll depart later than you. I have to go to Gulltown and then to the Eyrie. Well, Littlefinger does," Arya clarified.
Jon furrowed his brow. "Why?"
"To secure the support of the Vale, we need Lysa's agreement. And she only listens to Littlefinger. Plus, I want to investigate Littlefinger's business dealings in Gulltown. The more leverage we have against him, the better. I suspect the rest of his business dealings will be there," Arya explained.
"And what will you use for killing Joffrey?" Jon inquired.
"A gift," Arya replied with a smile. "As long as Margaery sticks to Arbor Gold, she has nothing to worry about."
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Two hours later, Arya navigated her way to the terrace near the rose gardens in the Red Keep. The air was saturated with the scent of flowers, and bees buzzed around, intoxicated by the nectar.
She heard the voices of the Queen of Thorns and Lady Margaery before she spotted them. Arya concealed herself behind a nearby pillar, granting her a discreet vantage point. As it turned out, the Tyrell matriarch and her granddaughter weren't alone on the terrace; maids accompanied them.
Arya positioned herself strategically, close enough to observe and eavesdrop on their conversation. The Queen of Thorns and Lady Margaery had met the late brothel keeper on several occasions, and Arya needed insights into her character. A brief exchange often provided valuable clues. From what she overheard, they were deliberating over necklace options for the upcoming wedding.
"No, no. You're a queen, not an ox," Olenna remarked as she examined one of the necklaces with a hint of nostalgia. Margaery smiled.
"Your grandfather gave me a necklace just like this one for my fifty-first nameday," Olenna reminisced, and with a casual t toss of the necklace, it disappeared over the wall, surprising both Arya and Lady Margaery.
"The wedding is in a fortnight, Grandmother. You can't say no to everything," Margaery insisted.
Arya studied the Rose of Highgarden. There was no denying her beauty. Her long, light brown hair was elegantly arranged, with some pulled up while the rest cascaded down her waist in loose curls. She wore a revealing gown of duck-egg blue silk with a gold pattern, which Arya struggled to discern from her vantage point.
The girl exuded a flirtatious nature, a trait Sansa had warned Arya about. However, Arya was keen to see how she behaved when her only company was her grandmother. That was when their masks might slip, revealing their true selves.
"Nonsense," Olenna gave a brusque dismissal before turning to the half-dozen maids waiting nearby. "My little dears, go speak to the jewellers of King's Landing. Tell them who you are, tell them who sent you. The one who brings me the best necklace will get to keep the next best."
As the maids departed, laughing and giggling, Arya seized the opportunity to remove her mask and slip back into the shadows of the pillar. Without the mask, she reverted to her original size, making it easier to conceal herself due to her small stature. By the time the maids had gone and Arya had replaced her mask, Olenna and Margaery had taken their seats.
"The Margaery Tyrell who walks into the sept a fortnight from now will inspire a thousand songs. How tragic it would be if she's wearing rubbish like that?" Lady Olenna's blunt manner remained unchanged, perhaps to give the impression of honesty, but Arya saw through it.
Meanwhile, Margaery had shed her flirty demeanour. Her expression now mirrored seriousness, reminiscent of Cersei, though Sansa insisted Margaery was much kinder. Arya hoped her sister was correct, though she considered herself a fairly adept judge of character by now.
"Perhaps I should just let Joffrey choose it for me. End up with a string of dead sparrow heads around my neck," Margaery quipped, gesturing to her neck.
At least the girl knew what she was getting into. It was a good sign, indicating that the plan to kill Joffrey was still viable.
"You watch that. Even here, even with me," Olenna cautioned her granddaughter.
Realising she wouldn't glean any more information from the pair, Arya emerged from behind the pillar and approached the terrace.
"Ah, here he is," Olenna greeted.
"Lady Tyrell," Arya nodded at Olenna before turning to Margaery. "Lady Margaery, the bride-to-be. And a beautiful one at that, if I may add," Littlefinger interjected with his most courteous demeanour.
"Do sit," Olenna instructed. "Wine, Lord Baelish?"
"I'm afraid it's a little early," Littlefinger demurred with a smile.
"Nonsense," Olenna retorted, pouring a goblet of gold liquid. "Hippocras from Highgarden. The best in all the Seven Kingdoms. It would be rude to refuse," she insisted.
Littlefinger smiled sweetly. "Of course, Lady Olenna, it's never too early for hippocras." Arya took a sip of the sweet wine, finding it rather pleasant. Perhaps marrying Margaery to Robb would have some extra perks. She set the goblet down.
"It's not safe to speak here," Littlefinger declared.
Olenna and Margaery exchanged uneasy glances, especially considering Margaery's recent remarks about Joffrey.
"I did warn you," Olenna chided Margaery.
"Do not fear, I was the one listening in. However, you must exercise more caution, especially regarding the procurement of gifts. We can't have everyone in the Red Keep knowing about the gifts you wish to bestow upon the King; it would spoil the surprise," Littlefinger advised, smiling before taking a tiny sip of the hippocras.
"Where do you suggest?" Olenna inquired.
"My apartments in my establishment. It's no trap, I assure you," Littlefinger reassured them. "There's a back entrance, so your visit would be discreet."
"Do you want me to come?" Margaery inquired.
"Your presence here would be missed, though it would be preferable if you could find a way to join us," Littlefinger replied.
"The less you know, the better," Olenna countered. "Anyway, we'd need a Kingsguard."
Margaery rolled her eyes. "Grandmother, my brother is a member of the Kingsguard. We can accompany you and return separately. I was planning to visit the orphanage today," she added with a sweet smile.
"Alright, alright," Olenna conceded. "How soon?" she pressed.
"Half an hour," Littlefinger replied, setting down his goblet and rising from his seat. "My ladies," he nodded respectfully.
"Until later, Lord Baelish," Olenna said with a smile as Arya turned and left the two women. It was time they learned who they were dealing with.
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"You did what?!" Jon exclaimed as Arya returned to the brothel.
"I wanted Lady Olenna to know she's dealing with a faceless assassin. If she doesn't comply, Lady Margaery and Ser Loras will perish," Arya replied.
Jon rubbed his face wearily. "Arya, this wasn't the plan," he sighed.
"We need the Tyrell armies. They're already plotting against the Lannisters. They need to ally with the North. I want us to return to Queenscrown with the combined forces of the Vale and the Reach. With the North and the Riverlands, we can easily take the Iron Throne. Stannis, Renly, and Joffrey will be dead, and the Lannisters will be in disarray because of Tyrion's accusation of Joffrey's murder," Arya explained.
"And when they offer Lady Margaery the hand of King Tommen, do you think she'll prefer Robb over him?" Jon countered.
"She will if there's a faceless assassin threatening her," Arya replied with a smile. "Don't worry, I have a plan. I just need to know who we are dealing with first."
Arya proceeded to the changing screen and, behind its veil, transformed her face into that of a young woman with blue eyes and long, blonde hair. She stood tall enough for Littlefinger's garments to drape over her slender, feminine frame. The woman had been beautiful in life, and her death had been a mercy. And that was the name Arya would assume once more.
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Arya and Jon were seated in Littlefinger's solar when the Tyrells arrived. Loras was stationed to guard the staircase, as neither Arya nor Jon wished for him to be involved in the upcoming conversation. They would leave it to Olenna to decide what Loras should and should not know.
As the two women entered the room, Jon and Arya rose to their feet. "Welcome, Lady Olenna, Lady Margaery," Arya greeted them.
"And who is this?" Olenna asked bluntly, gesturing towards Jon. Meanwhile, Margaery appraised him with a flirtatious look.
"Lady Olenna, may I introduce you to Lord Whitestark," Arya smiled. "He is—"
"I know who he is. He's Brandon Stark's bastard," Olenna interrupted, eyeing Jon up and down. "Albeit far prettier."
"Lady Olenna, it's a pleasure to meet you," Jon offered her a small smile.
Margaery approached Jon. "Lord Whitestark, it's a pleasure to meet you," she smiled.
Jon took her hand and kissed her knuckles. "The pleasure is all mine, my Lady," he said, flashing one of those smiles that made Sansa melt. Judging by the expression on Margaery's face, it seemed to have the same effect on her. What in the seven hells did women see in him? Arya wondered.
"Ladies, please, take a seat," Arya gestured to the chairs they had arranged.
Once they were all seated, Arya poured them each a goblet of wine. She had selected Arbor Gold on purpose, to gauge Margaery's reaction to the wine, and to highlight an experiment, as it was a crucial part of her plan.
"Why is Lord Whitestark here? What does he have to do with our plans? I thought Lord Stark was too preoccupied with their wildling problems to attend the wedding," Olenna huffed.
"Lord Stark's plans are the least of your concerns right now," Arya asserted. "We're here to discuss the murder of King Joffrey, aren't we?"
"Are you sure this one can be trusted?" Olenna asked, nodding towards Jon.
"I have personal reasons for wanting the Lannister bastard dead!" Jon replied, his voice gruff.
"And what are those?" Lady Margaery inquired.
"For several reasons, but because he hurt someone I care about. The boy is evil, and if you want to live, you need him dead," Jon declared.
"Oh, believe me, we've already established that my dear boy," Olenna's lips formed a thin line.
Arya stood up. "Before we go any further, I have to make an important announcement."
"Go ahead, Lord Baelish," Olenna raised an eyebrow.
"I'm afraid Lord Baelish is dead," Arya stated.
Both Margaery and Olenna exchanged confused glances before turning their attention back to Arya. "Who are you then, his twin brother?" Olenna asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"If you'll excuse me for one moment, I'll explain in simpler terms," Arya said with a smile as she walked over to the changing screen. It was tall enough to cover her body but not her head. Stooping, she removed Littlefinger's face and replaced it with the one she had shown Jon only half an hour ago. Straightening up, she emerged from behind the screen with Littlefinger's face in her hand.
"As I said, Lord Baelish is dead and has been for some time," Arya declared. "I am no one, but for now, you can call me Mercy."
Margaery looked as if she was going to be sick, and even Olenna had a stunned expression on her face.
The Queen of Thorns grasped the arms of the wooden chairs, her knuckles turning white, but only for a moment before she composed herself. It was replaced with a wry smile. "A faceless assassin. I'm surprised you're showing your true self," she remarked.
"Oh, this is not my genuine face," Arya replied with a sweet smile.
While Margaery continued to look horrified, Olenna appeared intrigued. She turned to Jon. "Where did you get the funds to hire a faceless assassin, Lord Whitestark? I can't imagine even Lord Stark has the funds to afford to kill the King. I would be surprised if there is anyone this side of the Narrow Sea who can afford it."
"There are some in Essos and Braavos who have an interest in removing the Lannisters from power," Arya added cryptically. She knew this could be interpreted as the Iron Bank wanting Joffrey dead. She suspected this might sway Olenna's decision, and from the narrowing of the old woman's eyes, Arya knew she was right.
"And you?" Olenna asked Jon.
"Mercy and I have a mutual, personal goal with those across the Narrow Sea," Jon quirked his lips.
In the blink of an eye and with a threatening motion, Arya struck a knife into the desk they were seated around. She toyed with the dagger with such speed and efficiency that both women grew pale at her skills.
"How do you plan to carry out the deed?" Margaery asked.
"A poisoned chalice," Arya explained. "As long as Lady Margaery only drinks Arbor Gold, like this fine wine we have here, then she will come to no harm. The poison only works with red wine. So it matters not which goblet Lady Margaery drinks from; she will be safe."
"Is it the wine that is poisoned?" Olenna inquired.
Arya took a black velvet pouch from her breast pocket, opened it and spread the bag's contents on the table. Inside were what appeared to look like four amethyst crystals.
"This is a special version of the strangler. If taken in white wine, it is harmless," Arya explained as she dropped one of the gems into the wine. Instead of dissolving, like the strangler normally would, it simply floated to the surface. Arya took a sip, without swallowing the crystal, then fished it out of the wine and placed it back on the table.
"Fascinating," Olenna observed. "And somewhat genius, if I may say," she added, giving Arya a look of approval.
"Won't it be obvious it is there?" Margaery asked.
"It will be part of the design of the goblet. Except it won't be noticeable. The goblet stem will be made from red-coloured glass, a design to show off the House Lannister colours. It will be easily hidden. Once dissolved, nobody will ever know it was there in the first place. And nobody will ever know its twin contains the same poison," Arya explained.
"You could gift the other to Cersei. She prefers a good Dornish red." Margaery suggested with a sly smile.
Arya wanted to laugh at that comment. If only she could give the goblet to Cersei. The thought of her face turning purple as she choked to death made Arya smile. "If only," she replied.
"Well, my dear, I think it's time we left," Lady Olenna announced, rising from her seat. The others followed suit.
"Of course, grandmother. I have an orphanage to visit," Margaery smiled, though Arya was just about able to suppress an eye-roll.
"It has been a pleasure," Lady Olenna nodded. "Do the Tyrells have anything to fear?" she inquired.
"As long as they are fighting for the right side, they will do well," Arya assured her. "Those in the east are playing the game of thrones from afar. Yet, they intend to seat a trueborn heir on the Iron Throne. One born and raised in Westeros. That is all you need to know. Support that claim, and you will not regret it."
Arya noticed Lady Margaery staring at Jon again as he kissed her hand. "My Lady," he said, causing her to blush. He repeated the gesture with Lady Olenna, who also flushed pink.
Once they had left, Arya turned to Jon. "Thank the Seven Ser Loras wasn't here; he'd have wanted a kiss on the back of his hand too."