The Bastard's Band
Author's Note: We finally reach the Reach! Jon meets the Tyrells properly! Next chapter will be a Margaery PoV. After that, probably another chapter of Oh, Child of Fire.
Chapter 4
Oleanna I
"What exactly did you do at Winterfell?" The Queen of Thorns, Oleanna Tyrell, sighed. Oleanna had been sitting in the garden, waiting with a platter of lemon cakes to soothe her childish son when he returned.
It had been a simple enough scheme.
Mace would reach out to Lord Stark and offer to foster his heir, Robb Stark. Naturally, Eddard would refuse (if he had any sense). Negotiations would possibly leave an opportunity for one of the younger children, such as the youngest son Bran or the eldest girl Sansa, to be available for fostering in the future.
Word would get back to King's Landing that the Tyrells were willing to integrate with the new regime even if it amounted to nothing, which Jon Arryn could pounce on to reduce the Lannister influence at court and increase their own, especially with Renly championing their cause at court.
Yet she had suspected something had gone wrong when Mace had returned so very smug. The letter that she held in her hand being vindication of her fears.
"I have secured a path to King Robert's favor!" The Lord Oaf smiled, reaching out for a lemon cake. Oleanna took her cane and thumped his hand, causing him to retract back and look at her like a struck puppy. "Mother! I am famished! The journey was so very long!"
"Famished?" She shook her head. "Your fat alone could keep you and an army fed for an entire year! And don't tell me you didn't feast at Winterfell. More importantly, whatever do you mean? Did Lord Stark accept to the terms?"
If he did, then Eddard Stark was far worse at the game than Oleanna had imagined. His bannerman had not been fond of Rickard Stark's southerly ambitions and the Rebellion had only reaffirmed such notions. Sending his heir apparent to the Reach was a mistake. Especially after the incident with the Mormonts.
"Well, not exactly." So, Mace went off the rails after some sort of 'brilliant' idea. Great. "I offered, but Lord Stark politely refused. We discussed the other children. He did not entertain fostering for the girls, but he mentioned one for young Bran may have been possible in the future."
May have been. Past tense. What did the Oaf do this time?!
"When we returned, I saw that Garlan was sparring with another Stark." Mace laughed. "One that looked so much like Lord Stark himself!"
The pieces were coming together now. Whispers from the North were hardly common, but Oleanna did keep an ear out for any information she could. Only one boy took after Lord Stark, and it wasn't Robb Stark or Bran Stark.
"It was the 'Bastard of Winterfell', Jon Snow!" Mace smiled brightly, confirming the suspicion that had formed in her mind. "A perfect opportunity! A great chance for the boy himself and a chance to draw Robert's attention to us by fostering his best friend's son!"
She could say that it was not the worst plan, exactly. Being bound to take care of a bastard would be a difficult situation, but one raised by Eddard Stark would quell any ill whispers well enough. People seemed to still hold the man as a bastion of honor, despite him siring a bastard. Perhaps it had been Robert Baratheon who had rubbed off on Eddard and not the other way around.
There was some small truth to Mace's words. The Bastard of Winterfell would indeed have the best chance of gaining and keeping Robert's attention. Though he would need to spend time in the Reach, squiring with Garlan and getting to know or at least be passable in Southern customs.
Gaining Robert's attention was only the first step. Keeping it and smothering the resentment held towards their house was the key.
"It…is not the worst idea." Oleanna admitted with great hesitation, to which Mace preened like the fat peacock he was. "But have you considered how our vassals will react? Fostering a bastard from the North instead of one their own heirs or spares?"
"They are our vassals, mother!" Mace, the poor buffoon, chided. "They can be assuaged by gifts and perhaps a tourney!"
"No, they will not." Oleanna wanted to bash head against the table, but she feared addling her wits and leaving Mace as the new 'brains' of the Tyrell family because Gods know he would not listen to Willas or Margaery as he did her. "The Rebellion has frayed the tempers of many Houses in the Reach. That idiot Randyl still holds a grudge for you claiming credit for his victories and routing Robert on the battlefield."
Frankly, she had supported his decision. Sure, most people knew that Mace was not involved beyond being Tarly's liege lord, but the act of claiming credit served to quench Randyl's ambitions. The fool of a Lord only saw value from the field of war and winning such a victory would have emboldened him.
It still did, of course, but the sharing of glory forced him from pushing against Highgarden too heavily beyond his incessant grumbling.
They were lucky that Robert held a grudge. He hated Tarly more than he did their House, so if the current regime continued Randyl was hardly a threat.
No, the main threat was in fact the Hightowers. Mace's wife's own family.
While the Hightower's power had waned in the fallout of the Dance considerably, they still held control over Oldtown which was the seat of both the Citadel and the Faith of the Seven. Leyton was loyal, but she doubted he would pass up the chance to advance his House's status should the Tyrell's fall out of favor.
"Should we offer to foster some heirs as well then?" Mace asked, twiddling his thumbs as he once again reached for a lemon cake. This time, she decided to allow him to eat. He had managed to surprise her by performing slightly above expectations, after all. "Randyl's eldest is around the age for it!"
Oleanna stared at Mace. Who was the Faceless Man who had clearly murdered her oaf of a son and taken his place? Had he found a decent solution?
"We could even invite Prince Joffrey."
And there was Mace's obliviousness. Later than usual, but inevitable.
"No." Oleanna refused to consider the little monster. Margaery deserved to be Queen, but Joffrey was Aerys come again but considerably dumber. She did not want the boy near her family. He would likely be disinherited or deposed once his Father passed, so Tommen was the much better bet.
"Did you not wish-"
"Robert will take time to get used to us." She explained. "If we are too heavy handed once we showcase the bastard, then even that idiot will catch on to what we are trying to do. Not to mention Robert is obsessed with tying himself to his friend's house. Besides, Cersei would never allow it. Randyl's boy would be a good choice, though."
"Dickon?"
"No, the fat one."
"Samwell?" Oleanna could hear the voice of indignation and confusion. A very common mixture when discussing matters of importance with her son.
"Lord Tarly has two sons." She needed affairs sorted out before she passed away. Letting Mace take control of the Reach upon her death without a guiding hand was the stuff of nightmares. Margaery was her own second coming but upon marriage she would not be able to be the same guiding hand as Oleanna could be.
If only Mace would recognize Willas as more than capable and not have inherited some of Randyl's idiotic ideas on the need for martial prowess. Perhaps they would be able to be comfortable in one another's presence.
"Does Lord Tarly not…" Hate his eldest with an ill-concealed passion? Yes. He did. It was the second worst kept secret in the Reach. "Would he not take it as an insult?"
"Almost certainly. Yet he will be glad to be rid of the boy for some time." Oleanna pitied poor Samwell. "Better yet, if the boy embarrasses his House while here, the man has even more reason to ship him to the Watch, never to return."
Mace shivered at the thought and Oleanna restrained her own urge to do so. They were Reachmen. The green hills and perfect blue skies they had been blessed with being stolen for a lifeless, frozen wasteland was a horrifying thought.
"Anyone else?" Mace asked. "Maybe one of Alerie's-"
"No." She shot him a pointed look, to which Mace nodded in understanding. "The Hightowers are not untrustworthy, but we should focus on bringing in a few significant individuals rather than casting too wide a net. We already have the bastard and the fat craven. Elinor or Desmera would fit in well, so that Margaery can have a friend while Loras can bond with the bastard over swords and whatever else idiot boys think of at that age."
"Does Samwell fit in with this group?" Mace scratched his balding head. The Lord Oaf had always been sympathetic to the poor boy. The natural brotherhood of the fat and craven, she mused.
"No, but he will either manage or force the boy to be removed from his inheritance." Her eyes glinted with delight. "And Elinor will be more than able to wrap the younger boy around her finger as much as Lady Tarly does her Lord Husband."
"Ah." Mace nodded, his eyes widening as the thought finally managed to enter his thick skull. "I see! Other than Ned's boy and Samwell, who could we invite?"
"We can think on that matter latter." Oleanna waved her hand. Damage control wouldn't be too difficult and if done properly, they might be able to make greater gains out of this than her original plan. Large scale fostering could bind not only the Reach further together, but also other Houses.
One need not look any further than the Hand raising Eddard Stark and their King at the Vale to understand the power of a good fostering.
"When will the boy be arriving Mother?" Gods, was Ned Stark expecting her to be the mastermind of this plot or did he believe that Mace oversaw his own decisions? The first would be a slight, she would never have been so heavy-handed, but the second would be concerning regarding Lord Stark's knowledge of the realm at large.
"By Lord Stark's letter, he will soon be on his way." Oleanna wanted to rub her head. "I suppose Garlan is aware of your 'idea'?"
"He offered to squire the boy on his own lonesome while we travelled back!" Mace grinned. "I didn't say anything while waiting for a response. No need to raise his hopes if Lord Stark refused."
"You can be intelligent?" Wonders would never cease.
"What was that Mother?" And there it was. If it were anyone else, the Queen of Thorns would have thought it to be sarcasm. With Mace, she knew he had genuinely not heard her. Probably dreaming about his own 'political acumen'.
"Nothing Mace." Her son longed doubtfully before returning to shoveling lemon cakes into his mouth as if he had been a prisoner of war. "You are so very much like your father."
"Truly?"
"Don't look so pleased, it wasn't a compliment."
She walked down the hallway of Highgarden. Willas, Margaery, and Garlan were nowhere to be found.
Oleanna had taken some time to process Mace's revelation. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed that rather than merely salvaging what they could, their House should instead turn the mess into an opportunity.
The initial plan she had 'given' to Mace, about drawing King Robert's attention, was simply words to get her son to Winterfell and give assurances of sincerity. While the King would likely never be their friend, having him at least not doubt their somewhat reluctant loyalty could not be allowed to continue.
However, considering how emotional Robert was then perhaps the plan wasn't completely without basis after all.
For now, she would inform her grandchildren of the situation. A shame that Loras was still galivanting around with Renly at Storm's End.
Eventually, she reached Margaery's garden. The girl had taken to raising her own flowers as a pastime. Dedication and time had allowed the current sight to meet Oleanna's withered old eyes.
The large courtyard the garden was situated in was filled to the brim with greenery. Flowers and other plants gave a breath of color, organized in a way that led to golden roses in the shape of their House symbol. The stone path leading to the white gazebo in the center acting as the 'stem'. And there sat her favorite grandchildren, playing cyvasse.
Currently, Garlan played against Willas while Margaery watched, seemingly knitting but eyes lingering on the board.
Willas, as usual, was firmly trouncing his younger brother. Garlan was no fool in strategy, but his older brother possessed greater skill in the game. Oleanna would let them play a bit longer and see if they would notice her presence.
One should never lose track of their surroundings.
"You may win this time Willas!" The knight raised his hand. "But victory will be mine in the next game!"
"This time?" Margaery spoke up, lips quirked up in hint of the truly vicious smirk she wanted to reveal. "Don't you meanevery time?"
"No!" Garlan gave his sister a mocking glare. "Next time, he'll lose. I was letting him build up a sense of confidence Margaery! To make our dear brother's crushing defeat even sweet!"
"I swear that you say that every game Garlan." Willas laughed. Oleanna supposed it was in moments like these that the children of House Tyrell could truly be their own selves.
"That is what all losers say." Margaery agreed, letting her smile bloom. "But Willas shall give you a stay of execution, after all it would be rude not to invite an old woman to take a seat. Correct Grandmother?"
"Granddaughter." She replied drily as Garlan and Willas were interrupted and turned to glance at her. "Grandsons. Are you finished with your little squabble? Or do I need to re-introduce your backsides to my cane?"
The thump of her cane as she let it drop to the floor causing them to wince.
"Don't look so dour." Oleanna snapped. "Lest you be mistaken for Starks and not Tyrells! And speaking of Starks, it appears you had not told me everything that occurred in Winterfell."
Willas and Margaery gave their brother a look, curiosity at the meaning and amusement at the attention it brought upon him.
"Well, I did not think it would come to pass." Garlan rubbed the back of his head. "Lord Stark seemed disinclined to it and even Father seemed hesitant."
"Your father was not hesitant." Oleanna groaned. "He, once again, leapt into things first and attempted to think afterwards. Not that with his mind thinking would have done him any good, but it is still quite the irritation."
"I take it that he has once again ruined your plans Grandmother?" Willas asked drily, chuckling slightly. "I doubt that it is anything new."
"Yes, but there is some opportunity in Mace's fuck up." Margaery gave her a look. "Don't give me that Margaery, you can be a proper lady in company but amongst family you must let loose some."
"I am not annoyed by your swearing Grandmother." Her favorite granddaughter denied, eyes sparkling with curiosity and a hint of annoyance. "You keep mentioning my Father's failure without explaining what this is about."
"If you sought me out over this instead of simply waiting until dinner…" Garlan looked pleased with himself. And now Oleanna could truly see the resemblance between Father and Son. A caning would be needed, sometime later. "Lord Stark accepted?"
"Quite so."
Margaery coughed politely.
"Grandmother, for those not aware of whatever folly Garlan and Father have thrown themselves into, what exactly warrants this discussion?"
Willas gave her a look as well.
"I would like to know as well, Grandmother. If it was this important than the heir apparent should know." The Heir! Period! The insecurities resulting from Mace's piss poor parenting would be hers to reap at this rate. If only her son wasn't too embarrassed to speak his mind or Willas was not blinded by preconceptions, then everything would be fine.
"We will not be fostering Robb Stark." Oleanna explained. Neither Willas nor Margaery was surprised by this. Such a thing was a long shot from the very beginning. "Nor will Bran Stark. Or the Stark girls."
"Nothing unexpected." Willas pointed out, his attention now firmly in the conversation and not the board where Garlan would soon be massacred.
"Except that you came here to point it out." Margaery continued the line of thought, eyes narrowing. While Willas was certainly the most bookishly smart of the lot of them, more than even Oleanna herself, it was Margaery who had inherited her talent for court and words. "So, someone will be fostering, from Winterfell, but not a Stark."
Willas' eyes widened.
"The rumored Bastard then?"
Margaery turned her head.
"Eddard Stark's?" Margaery asked, curiously and incredulously. Little was known for sure about the mysterious natural born son of the Warden of the North.
"It comes up more often than one would think, the King likes to talk of days long past." Willas explained. "As I am sure you are aware, when Lord Stark returned from Dorne, he also brought back his bastard as well. The rumors regarding the mother are as numerous as the flowers in Highgarden. Most people give credence to rumors of Ashara Dayne."
"Most people?"
"According to the King, the mother was a Dornish woman named Wylla." Willas shrugged. "Whatever the truth is, the winds of time have blown it away. Prince Oberyn has done some half-hearted searching of his own, for personal amusement."
"So, your little Dornish friend turns out to be helpful after all." Oleanna laughed, with only a hint of bitterness, while Willas rolled his eyes.
"Oberyn is a whimsical person." Willas replied. "Besides, it has been an idle small-talk topic for over a decade at this point. What kind of woman could make honorable Ned Stark forget his vows and sire a bastard?"
Indeed. Many a time once other topics were exhausted the conversation would turn back to the same few scandalous rumors. The legend surrounding the Bastard of Winterfell was the oldest and greatest of them.
"And you?" Garlan asked.
"I believe there is not enough knowledge on the matter to make an accurate guess." Willas explained, taking the chance to move a piece on the board forward as Garlan cursed.
"Besides it is rude to talk of such things, I cannot imagine the shame if my existence were to be made a matter of small talk." Margaery chided. There was the hint of that Tyrell empathy that had leaked into Oleanna's masterwork while she had not been looking. It had been Luthor's most charming trait and was certainly useful in small doses, but Tyrells by blood had a habit of drowning in their own emotions.
"Perhaps we can simply ask him once he arrives?" Garlan suggested. "I would hate to leave a mystery unsolved, and he may not mind."
For all that Garlan was Mace's perfect child, Oleanna dreaded the times when her son seemed to shine through him. That was the kind of question one waited years to ask and it would certainly sour their new ward to them with great swiftness.
"How chivalrous Garlan." Oleanna let herself sigh. "Would like to cut him and then shovel salt into his wounds? Let us not pry open scars on the first day at Highgarden."
"Sorry grandmother." Garlan spoke much more quietly. "You are correct, it was unchivalrous of me to even suggest such a thing."
"You haven't said it Garlan, you merely thought about saying it." The Queen of Thorns laughed. "Besides, it hardly matters who the boy's mother is. What matters is that he has a Stark look. A good enough in for Robert. Treat him kindly."
Willas and Garlan nodded. The former wasn't too interested in non-intellectual affairs and the latter was already on good terms with the boy, enough that he was partially responsible for their current possible opportunity.
Margaery merely raised a brow.
"Do you thinkIwould not?"
"Trust but verify my granddaughter!" Oleanna smiled. "I am sure you will have the boy wrapped around your fingers soon enough."
Eventually, the news they expected arrived. The herald had called out and the Tyrells found themselves awaiting the arrival of their guests.
The courtyard in front of Highgarden was of expertly carved stone with a large fountain at the center. Oleanna did regret there weren't more flowers, but after a small accident involving a certain, unnamed knight who was certainly not Loras running with a candle blindfolded had ended with a new garden being planted and a very irate old woman named Alerie. Oleanna was peeved to, though.
"It appears Lord Stark has decided to escort his son personally." She spoke softly. How curious. The rumors about him loving the boy as if he were trueborn were true. She wondered how he would explain his presence. Discussing deals for food? Talk about how 'Winter is Coming'? Or plain honesty about his love for his son.
The Queen of Thorns would bet a thousand gold dragons on it being some combination of the three.
"To discuss possible trade or a future visit to Winterfell?" Willas asked, though Oleanna suspected that he also knew the nature of Ned Stark's visit.
"It wouldn't hurt." Oleanna decided. "The Redwyne fleet could always use more ships. I've heard worrying things about that disturbed squid Euron in the Stepstones."
Mace blanched at the name and the Queen of Thorns didn't bother scolding him, she could barely restrain the urge herself. The Crow's Eye was more monster than man. The Ironborn who was too 'Ironborn' for even those sick fucks.
"Riders!" Garlan noted, as a few horses appeared in view even to Oleanna's aged eyes. "Lord Stark, I would presume."
"As would I." Oleanna muttered. "My knees are killing me. I can't imagine Willas is much better. Let us meet and greet quickly and go sit down."
"Please try to be polite Mother." Alerie sighed. The bitch. At least she loved Mace, for reasons that escaped Oleanna's understanding. Maybe she liked them fat?
"I always do." She reassured, with a hint of condescension. "It is just the one thing I always seem to fail at. Also, I am not your Mother girl. I was never a Hightower. Thank the Gods!"
Mace's wife gave her a look before turning her attention to the riders who had slowed to a trot upon reaching the large courtyard expanse they stood in.
Eddard Stark had aged gracefully. He had been a gangly youth, awkward and seeming even more out of place than the larger-than-life Robert Baratheon or Brandon Stark. Yet age had allowed him to grow into his features and now his quiet demeanor seemed more like armor than the frail shield it had been back then.
They had travelled with some protection, which was wise. Bandits south of the Neck had become more common and the last thing they needed was Robert finding out his 'Ned' had died while trying to meet with the Tyrells.
"Lord Stark." Oleanna broke the silence as the men dismounted their horses. "I would curtsy, but I imagine that once I go down, I may never come back up."
"It would be rude not to greet the Lord Paramount before addressing his mother." Eddard spoke stiffly before turning his eyes to her son. Not bad. He was somewhat prepared, though he seemed to view every interaction as a hostile battle. "Lord Tyrell. It is good to see you again. Lady Tyrell. And the children I assume."
"It is a pleasure to host you this time around, Lord Stark!" Mace boomed. "Feel free to call me Mace. This is my wife, Alerie. You have met Garlan before but this is my eldest Willas and my youngest, Margaery."
"I will, but only if you will call me Ned." Lord Stark's face guard dropped slightly. Truly, a hard exterior but a soft heart. A good thing he had the sense to not come South. King's Landing would devour the man alive. Or dead.
"Lord Stark." Margaery curtsied with the same ease many breathed. "It is an honor to meet you as well. And your son."
Ah yes, the Bastard of the year. Oleanna shifted her eyes to the boy, who had just slid off his own mount. He wore all black, as if he were about to ship off for the Night's watch. Long hair and a face with only barest beginnings of stubble. Almost a man grown.
He had the Stark look, for sure. The complexion and the gruff atmosphere. Though his features were far fairer, softer. The eyes were a dark grey and as she looked, unnerving the boy in the process, she swore she saw a hint of violet.
Oleanna was leaning towards the story of Ashara Dayne now. The boy was far too pretty to be born from some random Dornish whore or crofter's daughter.
"It is my pleasure, my Lady." The bastard spoke softly, but he had a pleasant enough voice. Polite as well. "My name is Jon Snow. Eddard Stark's natural born son."
Oleanna noticed the bird at that point, a raven that sat upon the bastard's shoulder. It seemed to possess great intelligence, at least in appearance. A Maester's Raven, most likely.
"How has your sword practice progressed?" Garlan smiled, to which the boy's dour expression lifted slightly. "Have you worked on your footwork?"
"Of course, Ser Garlan!" A smile, strange thing to see on a Stark, appeared on the boy's face. "I would not dream of passing up the words of an experienced knight. When we spar, I can show you how I have improved."
Boys. The only thing they cared about was swinging their swords at one another. When they became men, they simply added drinking and whoring to the list.
"Well met, Jon Snow." Willas greeted. "I am Willas. My brother has nothing but praise for you and he is hardly a man to exaggerate. I look forward to getting to know you."
"And I you, Lord Willas."
"Allow me to introduce you to our grandmother." Willas gestured towards her. Oleanna continued to examine the boy. Lord Stark looked unnerved. Perhaps he feared old rumors from Harrenhal resurfacing. As much as she wished to needle that specific wound, even she knew that some things were better left untouched.
"I had thought you were bringing your bastard son Lord Stark?" She smiled at the boy. "Not your comeliest daughter."
The boy's pale skin flushed slightly.
"Grandmother!" Margaery scolded, though a grin filled her face. Even the gruff Lord Stark seemed bemused.
"You are no longer the prettiest in Highgarden, granddaughter." Oleanna was only half-jesting. The boy was concerningly beautiful. If he weren't the son of Ned Stark, he'd likely be siring a few bastards of his own. "I had thought that if you ever lost the title, it would be to a woman at least."
"Grandmother!" This time Margaery looked annoyed. Her Granddaughter had a streak of vanity, as did most highborn women of any renown. The boy had turned even more red. From anger or embarrassment, or both.
"I apologize for the jesting Lord Stark, Jon." The Lord Oaf finally spoke up after a particularly pointed look from Alerie. Snow seemed to regain control over his complexion as he turned to his Father.
"No need Mace." Lord Stark had a slight grin on his face. Another wonder. Had the man's emotional blockage been removed? "Why, it was only a few years ago that one of Lord Karstark's boys declared that he would marry Jon."
Margaery giggled as Garlan and Willas laughed. Mace himself seemed glad that her words hadn't ruined the visit. As if she didn't know where the line was. Bah!
"Lord Stark!" The boy flushed once more as the bird cawed. Another easy target. She would allow Margaery the pleasure of messing with the boy until he grew more accustomed to such jests. Not everyone was her son, who to this very day had the same lack of resistance to such words.
And Lord Stark, not Father? She had thought that Lord Stark had been far closer to his bastard than most. Probably not at the man's command, but his own intuition. It seemed most likely that the boy was avoiding overfamiliarity before another Great House.
"Well, my knees are about to give out." Oleanna announced. "Shall we retire inside for the moment? Your guards can visit the barracks and some of our stable hands will take your horses for now. I am sure the journey South was long and arduous."
"May I keep Brynden with me?" She blinked before realizing he spoke of the raven. Brynden the Raven. Well, she had heard stranger names. Margaery had named her rabbit Sniffles at one point.
"As long as he doesn't shit everywhere inside." The boy must be decently confident in the bird if he allowed it to sit on his shoulder.
"I've trained him not to." Jon seemed proud of that.
"So, you mean to say that he has done so inside before?" Margaery asked the boy. "How long have you had him? He seems quite agreeable."
Oleanna would need to keep an eye on the two. A pretty girl and a pretty boy of the same age together could spell a disaster. She knew Margaery was smart and the boy likely an honorable chip of the old block, but the foolishness of youth seemed only clear with the wisdom of the age.
"Actually, he was very unruly at the beginning my Lady." The bastard replied, lost in memory. "He was gift from a friend, while we were passing through the Neck on our way here. Are you experienced in this sort of matter?"
"Yes, I am versed in the training of birds." Her granddaughter gave an appraising look at the bird. "I have not trained a raven before, but my brother is an expert falconer and has taught me much of what I know. I am sure you will get a chance to try."
Lord Stark looked at the scene with a soft smile. Fond memories of his own fostering, likely. She wondered how he would take the sight of his old friend, who had eclipsed even her son in pudge.
"Garlan, Margaery." Oleanna called out. "Why don't you show the boy the beauty of Highgarden. Our flowers are in full bloom currently."
"So soon?" Mace asked. Ned Stark seemed to be giving her questioning look as well.
"We adults will be discussing boring things." Oleanna explained. "I imagine that spending time with his mentor and a pretty maiden would be far more exciting for a boy his age."
The boy seemed to have adapted quickly, if the only faint flush on his face was any indicator. The bird gave her a look that seemed either amused or irritated.
"Lord Stark?" The boy asked, hesitantly.
"Go ahead Jon." Eddard Stark put his hand on his son's shoulder. "We will get some time to talk later. We will be staying for at least a day or two, you should get to know your hosts. I know you will be on your best behavior, especially with Ser Garlan to keep an eye on the both of you."
"I would be honored to chaperone them." Garlan laughed teasingly as even Margaery seemed embarrassed. No matter how mature she was, she was still a girl. "Shall we then?"
The boy and girl quickly left, perhaps to spare themselves further embarrassment.
"Shall we talk business inside?" Willas asked. Now she had to hope that Mace didn't accidentally insult the Starks or give them an outrageously good deal.
Truly, she dreaded the day she passed.
Author's Note: Fine-tuned this chapter a bit today. I might add a bit more at another time, mostly minor dialogue, but I feel pretty good about this one, all things considered. Oleanna doesn't suspect anything (yet) about Jon's parentage mainly because she has no reason to believe Ned Stark would lie and there is a convenient enough theory to explain the minor discrepancies. Though will this remain the case?
As always, feel free to comment what you like, questions, and constructive criticism! Comments and likes help show interest and get me to keep writing more.