Chapter 15

As I filled my plate with slices of honey-glazed ham and turkey, cheese wedges, biscuits, quail and duck eggs, and a hand-full of grapes on a side bowl, I turned back to the Queen of Thorns. "I'm glad you brought up Lord Stark. Tell me, my lady, have you ever been to the North?"

If Olenna found the out of the blue question jarring, she didn't show. "No, I've never seen much point to it," she said, munching on a jam-stuffed roll. "Snow, cold, honorable fools, Wall. What else is there to see?"

I chuckled into my cup. She certainly had a way with words. "I have, you know. We went to Winterfell after Lord Arryn's death, to ask Eddard Stark to be the new Hand." I shook my head. "We dragged him here to die, it seems. But I did learn a valuable lesson from him. Do you want to know what that was?"

Olenna dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a handkerchief. "No, not really," she said. "But I'm sure you will tell me anyway."

I let out a small laugh. I walked right into that one. "Yes, well, the lesson is fairly simple. The woman a man marries can make or break him."

She snorted. "Why, you could have easily learned that from your father."

Now, I had killed Cersei Lannister not two weeks ago, choking her with my own two hands even as I wore her son's face, but that was a low blow. "That was highly uncalled for, Lady Olenna." Unbidden, a scowl darkened my face. "Perhaps you forget who you speak to in your old age."

"Old age comes with a few privileges, you see." Olenna's posture was easy and relaxed as she spoke, her eyes bright. My vexation seemed to breathe new life into her. "I will be joining them soon enough, so I get to disparage the dead as much as I want."

I tried and failed to swallow down my irritation. There was something about kinging that utterly disagreed with disagreements, and I was growing too used to getting my way. The perils of being a hormonal teenager.

"My point," I ground out, "is that it was the Lady Catelyn, a woman Ned Stark so readily married after his brother died, that started the War of the Five Kings by kidnapping my Uncle Tyrion. It was her that freed Ser Jaime from Robb Stark's camp, as if that would magically get her her daughters back; it was her who told Lord Stark to trust in Littlefinger, of all people. Now, her family lies buried beneath the dirt or scattered across the land. An ancient and proud name such as the Starks, a lineage of over eight thousand years, might just be brought down by the bad decisions of one woman who married into the family."

"That seems a very narrow view of the war, if you ask me," she said dryly. "In any event, do you truly think my Margaery is a fool like Lady Stark?"

I let out a deep breath. I couldn't let her get under my skin. "No, no," I said genially. "Margaery is a beautiful and capable woman. Any man would be happy to marry her. But as a king, I must be extra cautious. I must evaluate all the options and choose what is best for all the realm. Therefore, I was hoping to renegotiate the terms of the union. If you're amenable to it, I can get the contract written up by tonight."

"Oh, and what else do you want, pray tell me?" Olenna asked.

"A million gold dragons," I said. She laughed, of course, and I saw it in her eyes the moment she thought she'd overestimated me, that I was a silly little boy playing king after all. I expected nothing else. "It's not an unreasonable dowry, my lady, not to marry into the Crown."

"The Crown already owes House Tyrell a million dragons, and you want another million on top?" she asked. She seemed amused more than anything.

"Owed, my lady." I wagged a finger at her. Two could play the disappointed parent game. "You rebelled against the Iron Throne, against the rightful king. All debts were null and void when that first rose banner was raised in the name of the false king Renly."

She waved her hand airly. "Yes, yes, owed." Point to me. "That is as may be, but let us speak plainly here. You need this alliance more than us. Your armies are spent. Stannis may have been beaten back, but say one thing about him, he's a stubborn bastard. Your control of three of the seven kingdoms is flimsy at best. No. Margaery is your best match, I assure you."

"Perhaps," I told her. "Then again, I could always marry Ysilla Royce and bring the Vale back into the fold." I shrugged. "Or a Dornishwoman. I've become fast friends with Prince Oberyn, you see, and I'm sure he would gladly offer suggestions."

"And who would feed the realm, then?" she asked derisively. "Your grandfather burned the Riverlands from the God's eye to the Trident. The Crownlands by itself can barely sustain King's Landing, much less the other kingdoms. And do not forget the Tyrells have the largest army still in the field."

And there it was. I tutted with my tongue. "The Reach has a bigger army, not House Tyrell. You've tied a pretty noose about the Reach, to be sure, a great web of marriage alliances to finally put the entire south behind your house. But one snip here, another snap there, one blow against your house of cards, and it can all come tumbling down." I gave her my sweetest smile. "Say I marry the daughter of Lord Tarly, instead, or one Matthis Rowan's daughters, and name the one whose daughter I didn't marry as my Hand. Lord Rowan is a sensible man, and Randyll Tarly the greatest military mind in the Realm who hasn't a crown on his brow. That would be three of your strongest bannermen—counting the Florents who still hold to Stannis. Then, say my uncle, the heir to Casterly Rock and future Lord Paramount of the West, marries into another great house. Well…" I spread my hands and leaned back against my chair. "Of course, a few houses would never move against the Tyrells. Mace's wife is a Hightower, and you are a Redwyne yourself. But while Horas and Hobber walk freely about the Red Keep, they are still our hostages, like as not. Their ransom was never paid. Lord Paxter will not sail against the Crown with his sons in our hands. It might not be enough to nullify your houses' power, but it will severely weaken it for generations."

Olenna's face grew stormy. It seemed she didn't appreciate candidness as much as she thought. "Are the thousands and thousands tons of food that even now flow into your city not enough? The seventy thousand Tyrell swords we can raise? And the hand of the most eligible maiden in all the Seven Kingdoms?"

I nodded, though the maiden part almost made me laugh. I waited for the perfect moment—when Olenna reached for her cup with angrily shaking hands—to speak. "Did you know I've been fucking your granddaughter, Lady Olenna?" The Queen of Thorns snorted on her drink, then coughed into her hands. To her credit, she recovered quickly for someone her age. I popped another grape in my mouth. "I know why you sent her to me and all that, but I'm no Luther Tyrell. Truth is, you overplayed your hand. Now you have a despoiled lady in your hands, one who's a widow to two kings no less. If I tell the entire realm I won't marry her because she's cursed or some such nonsense, many a great lord will agree with me.

"Come now, the Reach is fat and bloated like your lord son, we both know it. A million dragons is a small price to finally solidify your position as Wardens and Lords Paramount with a royal wedding."

If not for her noble upbringing, Olenna would've been baring her teeth as she looked at me for a long moment. "It is not as if we have a choice in this, is it?" she said, clicking her tongue. Gods, she was just like Tywin when he doesn't get what he wants.

"Don't pout, my lady, it suits you not." I clapped my hands and put on a beaming smile. "But do not worry. It's not all doom and gloom. There's no need for us to have a hostile relationship. We'll be family soon. Accept my proposal and let me tell you how I plan to put three of your great-grandchildren on a Lord Paramount's seat, and one on the throne."

At this, her eyebrows threatened to climb off her head. When the breakfast was over, and our agreement was settled, Olenna left with a pleased smile on her face.

I let her have it. I was a merciful god, after all.