Olenna Tyrell
"I've already told you—about everything. You know, we started with stars and planets. He had a rather remarkable idea—that stars are enormous, blazing spheres suspended in the void. Fascinating, isn't it?" A slightly boyish smile lit up his face.
"I'm far too old to make sense of such things," Olenna cast a brief glance aside. A servant who had approached poured light Volantene wine into two crystal goblets. "Tell me about matters that are easier to grasp. Did he ask anything about us, about our plans? Hint at anything?"
"Perhaps you'll find it useful to know that he expressed a desire to visit Highgarden once the war is over. He mentioned, in passing, that he wants to personally see all the more or less major cities of Westeros."
"And what else?"
"He invited me to visit as well."
Olenna continued asking questions. Her grandson had told her about his correspondence with the king before, and she already knew quite a bit. But they wrote to each other often, and fresh information was never unwelcome.
"Have you thought about what kind of man he is, Willas?"
"Of course I have… He's unusual, not like the others. I would very much like to meet him in person."
"That's wise," she nodded. "Friendship with kings, though fleeting and at times even dangerous, is nonetheless very beneficial at its core. I'm so sorry you can't ride a horse and fight like the others. That would have opened so many doors for you!"
"Grandmother, I'll open the right doors regardless."
"I don't doubt it. Now listen—what you need is a wife. And heirs."
"Of course I do. We've discussed this more than once, and you know my opinion."
"Something has changed. I believe Myrcella Baratheon is free once again."
"And the Martells?" Willas showed interest. A couple of years ago, Olenna had already tried to arrange his marriage either with Myrcella or Sansa, but nothing had come of it.
"Most likely, they're staying out of it."
"So that's why you're planning to go to the Red Keep," he rolled a grape across the table.
"That's part of it. Your sister will give birth soon, and I want to see her child."
"Myrcella is an excellent match," Willas nodded and fell into thought, his gaze drifting across the vast lands of the Reach stretching into the distance. From their elevation, one could clearly see the countless vineyards covering the southern slopes of the hills, sheepfolds, apiaries, haystacks, granaries, and barns. This land was truly blessed by the Seven, and life here was easy and pleasant.
"If all goes well, you will gain not only a beautiful and intelligent wife, but also draw even closer ties with the royal house."
"Will they agree? And, for that matter, who exactly needs to be convinced?"
"Since they drove Cersei out, I'm certain Kevan and Joffrey are the ones making decisions there."
"Don't you think he's risen too quickly and gained authority at an alarming pace? If this continues, even you might soon find it difficult to outmaneuver him."
"He captured Riverrun and forced that simpleton Tully to swear fealty. And, Willas, he very cleverly came to terms with your father and partially wrote off the crown's debt. At our expense, by the way."
"But my father took Storm's End!"
"Oh, my dear, those are glittering toys. What concerns me is how deftly Joffrey played all this. I would very much like to know who advised him. Surely it must have been Tywin, while he was still alive—there was no one else capable of it."
They fell silent, slowly sipping their wine. A cool breeze carried the scent of freshness from the Mander. Light clouds drifted across the vast blue sky. Somewhere in the kennels, a dog began to bark.
"We must hurry," Olenna said suddenly. "Many will soon realize that Myrcella is about to become free. Randyll Tarly, for instance—he will certainly try to secure a worthy match for his son. And such a marriage would raise their standing to a new height."
"If Tarly finishes the war—and finishes it victoriously—he'll have the moral right to demand a reward."
"Exactly, my boy," Olenna nodded.
"There's one question…" Willas hesitated. "It's about my injury."
"Oh, nonsense. That's hardly important for a great lord. Besides, it doesn't hinder you in bed, does it?"
Olenna was alluding to his romantic escapades. It wasn't as though he chased every skirt—nothing of the sort—but the heir of Highgarden had no shortage of women. Some of them had lingered longer than others—he valued not just the sex, but also a certain degree of trust and mutual attachment.
"If the king or Kevan were to bring it up, then they would be far less intelligent than we thought," Olenna snorted, as if amused by the very idea. "But they won't say that—believe me. And if we are refused, the reasons will be quite different."
"Then it seems it's time for you to step back into the game, Grandmother," Willas said calmly, smiling—openly and broadly.
(End of Chapter)
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